The Perfect Child(22)

“Janie or Becky?”

“Both.”

“Did you use to see them frequently?”

“I raised Janie.”

I’d picked up my pen. This had been new information. “Can you tell me more about that?” I had asked, sounding just like a reporter.

“Becky never wanted that baby. Only reason she even had her was because she waited too long to go in and get it taken care of.”

“What about the father?”

Sue had burst out laughing. “Father? Becky can’t keep her damn legs shut. Who knows who that baby’s daddy is? Definitely not Becky. She don’t have a clue.” She’d snorted. “I brought them two home from the hospital to stay with me. I thought I’d give Becky another chance. Maybe give her time to get off that nasty junk, but I should’ve known better.” She’d rolled her eyes. “She was back smoking within three weeks. Didn’t even last a month with her baby. Took off one night and never came home. Left me with the damn baby to take care of.”

“How long was she gone?” I’d asked.

She’d laughed again. This laugh had been so deep that it had shaken her belly underneath her jumpsuit. “She didn’t come back until Janie was almost two.”

“And Janie was with you that entire time? Nobody else?”

She’d nodded.

“Why did Becky come back for her?”

“She’d gotten herself clean. Been in some kind of program for six months. I gave her Janie, but there’s no way I was letting that girl back in my house.”

I had scribbled down the timeline. “What was Janie like when she was a baby?”

“She never slept. Ya know how they always be saying babies sleep all the time? Not Janie.” She’d shaken her head. “She came into the world woke, and she stayed woke.”

“You mean she was colicky?”

She’d looked puzzled. “What’s that?”

“It’s when babies cry a lot. Babies with colic usually don’t sleep much.”

“Oh, hell no. That ain’t what she was like. She never cried. She just stayed woke. Like I said. She just laid there staring at the ceiling. She didn’t want nuthin’ to do with me. Didn’t even care I was her grandma. How you s’pposed to care about a baby who don’t care nuthin’ for you?”

“I don’t know. That must’ve been really hard for you.”

She’d shrugged. “Oh well, I just figured you can’t pick babies. Sometimes ya just get a bad one.”

“So what’d you do?”

“I just let her do whatever she want till she got bigger, but then she turned even worser.”

“What do you mean?”

“Couldn’t get her to do anything you wanted her to. She freak out if you told her no. That girl would kick me. Try and bite me. If she couldn’t bite me, she’d bite her own self. Craziest thing I ever seen.” She’d nodded her head, agreeing with herself and gaining momentum as she spoke. “Then she start taking off her diaper and peeing all over everything. Not just in the room. Everywhere in the damn house. She drop a dookie whenever she feel like it. Get all mad and make herself throw up. I was like, nuh-uh. Ain’t no child gonna act all crazy like that, messing up my house. That’s when I had to start whooping her good. That’s what I did with all my kids.” She’d locked her eyes on mine pointedly. “I had a right to whoop my children when they got out of hand just like Becky got a right to do the same to Janie when she was getting out of hand.”

Everyone who beat their kids had an excuse, and it was usually because they thought it was their right to do it. People even used Bible verses to justify beating their children. I couldn’t count the number of parents who’d quoted the “Spare the rod, spoil the child” verse to me. I hadn’t bothered trying to change her mind. She’d be locked away from children for a long time.

“Were you concerned that there was something wrong with Janie?”

She’d leaned forward again and lowered her voice, whispering like we were best friends. “You ever looked in her eyes? Those eyes turn black as night. Sometimes, I just had to smack her upside the head just to get her eyes look blue again. You know what I mean?” She’d laughed, but I was pretty sure she was serious. “I woulda just got rid of her. Believe me, I thought about it. But then Becky came back. She’d gotten herself clean and wanted Janie again. I was like, ‘Hell yeah—take her.’”

“When was the last time you saw them?”

Her forehead had creased as she’d tried to remember. “Two years? Maybe three?”

“And what was Becky like then?”

“Crazy as ever. Strung out again and talking about taking Janie to church so she could have the pastor pray over her again.”

“I know you said that you didn’t know who Janie’s father was, but were there any men in Becky’s life?”

We had to track down the biological father or any other male figure who might have custodial rights. Even if they weren’t around, we had to give them an opportunity to take Janie. I’d never seen it happen. Deadbeat dads didn’t resurrect themselves to show up for their kids when they needed it. It was just another box I had to check off my form.