Chapter 10 - THE FINAL TWISTThe visitor's room in the basement of the courthouse was cold and smelled of floor wax and stale coffee. A thick pane of bulletproof glass separated the two sides of the table.
My mother sat on the other side, wearing an orange jumpsuit that was three sizes too big for her. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and her wrists were chained to a heavy steel ring bolted to the metal desk.
She looked small. She looked weak. She didn't look like the woman who had stood over me at the kitchen sink with her arms crossed.
She picked up the plastic telephone receiver with shaking, hand-cuffed hands.
I picked up mine.
"Emma," she whispered into the receiver, her voice crackling through the small speaker. "Thank God you came. You have to tell the judge... you have to tell them I didn't know how bad the fumes were! I thought you were just having an panic attack! You know how you get when you're stressed!"
I listened to her, my expression completely neutral.
"You really still believe that, don't you?" I said softly. "You really think this was all just a mistake."
"It was Ray!" she cried, her eyes wide, begging me to agree. "Ray ruined our lives! He threatened me! He said he would tell Daniel about the money I took from our joint account three years ago! I had to help him, Emma! I did it for the family!"
"You didn't do it for the family, Mom," I said, leaning closer to the glass. "You did it for yourself. You watched me suffocate on the kitchen floor, and you were more afraid of going to prison than you were of losing your daughter."
Her face went pale. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
"I didn't come down here to forgive you," I continued, my voice steady, icy, and sharp. "And I didn't come down here to listen to your excuses. I came down here to give you something."
I pulled an envelope from my coat pocket and pressed it flat against the glass.
Inside the envelope was a folded legal document stamped with a red seal from the Iowa Department of Human Services.
"What is that?" she whispered, her eyes darting between the paper and my face.
"It's an emergency termination of parental rights for Caleb," I said. "And a full, legal adoption application signed by Daniel... and co-signed by me as his legal co-guardian once I turn nineteen next month."
Sarah slammed her chained hands against the desk, the metal clanking loudly against the wood. "You can't take my son! He is my child!"
"He's safe now," I said. "He's never going to smell that chemical again. He's never going to hear you tell him to stop pretending when he's hurt."
She began to weep hysterically, pressing her forehead against the glass. "Emma, please... I'm your mother! You can't erase me!"
I slowly put the telephone receiver back onto its hook, cutting off her sobs into complete silence.
I stood up, adjusting my coat.
Through the glass, my mother was screaming my name, her face contorted in agony, but behind the thick pane, she was completely silent—just a helpless image trapped in a frame, exactly like I had been when I was lying on her kitchen floor, gasping for air.
I turned my back on her and walked out into the bright, sunlit hallway where Daniel and Caleb were waiting for me.
Caleb ran up to me, grabbing my hand. "Are we going home now, Emma?"
May you like
I looked at Daniel, who gave me a firm, supportive nod, and then down at my little brother.
"Yeah, Caleb," I said, taking a deep, effortless breath of fresh air. "We're going home."
