never encountered anything like this before. Our guidance counselor is also assigned to another elementary school, and she was already involved in another incident and couldn’t come, so Mrs. Worth, the principal, asked me to speak with you.”
Judy swallowed hard again. Mrs. Worth. Another person at Park Elementary who was new to Judy, but at least she had met Brian’s first grade teacher at the Open House in August. “What exactly is the problem?”
The nurse opened the manila folder, picked up a crayon drawing, and slid it across the desk so Judy could see it. “Yesterday afternoon, the children were asked to draw pictures of their parents. This is Brian’s picture, which his teacher only looked at last night at home. Given the climate in today’s society, I’m sure you’ll be able to see why Brian’s teacher had to bring this to our attention today. Before anyone contacted the Division of Youth and Family Services, the principal thought it best we speak with you.”
Judy’s pulse raced. Before she even took a peek at the picture he had drawn, she thought she had a good idea of what she might see, but she was not prepared at all. Despite some very juvenile stick figures and awkwardly drawn objects, the image of what his life had been like before coming to Welleswood to live with his grandmother was devastatingly graphic and pathetic.
Trembling, she examined the picture closely. The largest stick figure had been drawn in heavy black crayon. An assortment of oddly shaped spots on one ear looked far more benign than the dark rainbow of colors streaking down each arm. Judy could not have drawn a more accurate picture of Duke, with his tattoos and earrings, if she tried.
She was shaken, but not overly concerned because she knew the picture was, unfortunately, very accurate in detail. She studied the small stick figure sitting at the man’s feet playing with what appeared to be a collection of weapons of some sort. She could not tell if they were supposed to be knives or guns, but there was no doubt the little figure had one aimed upward, pointing directly at the larger stick figure.
Her heart lurched against her chest, however, when she gazed at yet another stick figure lying in a prone position on the floor behind the tiny figure. Yellow crayon scribbled across the head obviously represented blond hair, just like Candy’s had been the last time Judy had seen her. But it was the assortment of crudely drawn bottles, multicolored dots looking very much like pills, and pointed objects that looked like syringes that left Judy clutching her chest as she tried to endure looking at the painful scene which had poured out of Brian’s memories onto this paper.
Blinking back tears, she pointed a shaky finger at each of the stick figures and identified them. “This is Duke, Brian’s father. The prone figure is his mother, my daughter, Candy.” Her voice cracked. “This little one would be Brian.”
Without responding, the school nurse left for a moment and returned with a glass of water for Judy. She took a sip, almost too distraught to swallow the water without choking.
The picture Brian had drawn depicting the life Candy had led in California with her husband and child was far worse than Judy could have imagined. Heartfelt disappointment in her daughter, coupled with concern for Brian, quickly merged into anger. “How could you? How could you?” she whispered, as if Candy might be able to justify allowing her child to be raised in such a dangerous and godless environment. She did not expect Candy to answer. Judy knew that it was not Candy at all, it was the drugs, those hideous drugs, that had robbed Candy of all sense of decency and put Brian in danger.
Any and all resentment Judy had harbored these past few months about being thrust into the role of mother instead of grandmother evaporated at that very moment, and all the inconveniences in her life now that Brian was with her seemed inconsequential, if not petty. Brian was safe now. He was here, with her, where he belonged and needed to be.
She took several sips of water before quietly explaining the meaning behind the picture, as she understood it, as well as the circumstances behind her temporary custody of her grandson. To her relief, the nurse remained sympathetic and nonjudgmental, patting Judy’s arm. “I’m so sorry. Brian’s very fortunate to be with you.”
Judy sniffled and reached into her purse for a tissue. “What do we do now? About the picture?”
The nurse put the picture back into the manila folder while Judy put her glasses back on. “Even though Brian is no longer in that environment, with your permission, we’d like Brian to see the school district’s psychologist, of course, but the counselor wanted me to arrange for a time she could speak with you about arranging for private counseling for your grandson.” She took a card from the folder and passed it to Judy. “Her name is Janet Booth. If you call her tomorrow morning after nine, she’ll set up a time convenient for both of you to meet.”
Judy sighed with relief. Finally a name she knew. “Mrs. Booth was Candy’s sixth grade teacher. I didn’t realize she’d become a counselor. Of course, I’ll call her tomorrow morning.” She paused to moisten her lips. “What about the Division of Youth and Family Services?” she whispered, frightened that Brian might be taken from her and placed into foster care.
The nurse shook her head. “I’ll speak to the principal, but I don’t believe that will be necessary now. Not under the circumstances.”
Judy looked toward the door and back again. “What about Brian? Should I take him home? I had to close the salon to come here, but—”
“You can speak with him if you like. I know he’s still a bit confused about why his picture wasn’t hanging up with all the other children’s. I’m afraid he got a bit forceful with one of the other students, which is why his teacher, Miss Addison, sent him here. Just to cool down a bit.”
Judy shook her head and tried to reconcile the nurse’s description of Brian with what she had observed. Over the course of the summer, she and Brian had actually gotten to know one another for the first time. Now that he had filled out, his stocky frame was in perpetual motion, and he had the greatest dimple in each of his pudgy cheeks. At first, he had been wary of her, even untrusting. He seemed more comfortable with her and with his new surroundings now, although she noticed he did not gravitate toward men, especially large men. “He’s normally very agreeable. He can get withdrawn once in a while,” she admitted, “but he’s never highly agitated or pushy, even with the children in the neighborhood.”
“All the more reason for you to speak with the counselor. I’m sure she’ll have some ideas for you that could help. In the meantime, you can take Brian home if you want, although maybe it would be better if he rejoined his class. The teacher has already taken down all the other pictures,” she added.
“I’ll ask Brian, but he’ll probably want to stay,” Judy suggested. While the nurse called the front office to have Brian returned to the nurse’s office, Judy worried the strap on her purse. How she might be able to afford counseling for Brian when she scarcely made enough for the two of them now was a problem she would need to lift straight to the top of her prayer list, but she was certain about one thing. Brian would get all the help he needed, even if that meant taking a second or third job to pay for it.
By skipping lunch with Madge, after a brief, but evasive explanation and a promise to meet her at Barbara’s shop, Judy was back on schedule by one o’clock. She had a good forty-five minutes before she was due at Mrs. Schimpf’s apartment in the Towers to give her a haircut, and she turned down the cobblestone walkway onto Antiques Row toward Grandmother’s Kitchen with more than a slight hesitation to her steps.
It seemed like only yesterday when the lumberyard had been on this plot of land. Frank had come here to order the wood to build the fence that still protected the backyard of their home and the swing set he had made for Candy as a surprise for her fifth
