Before I Let You Go(16)
“You’ve literally never even met her. How dare you make a judgment like that?” I hiss. I’m infuriated. Just then, the door opens gently and Eliza and Sam emerge.
“You might want to take this conversation away from Annie’s doorway. She really needs to sleep now,” Eliza murmurs.
“Good idea,” I mutter, and I use the interruption as an opportunity for a deep breath to try to deal with my own blood pressure. We take a few steps farther into the corridor, and Eliza and Sam linger until I offer introductions all around.
“Dr. Rogers, Dr. Vidler here was just telling me that Anne isn’t well enough for a chat today. Can you confirm that?” Mary says quietly.
“Yes, I’d much rather you left it,” Eliza says, frowning. “What’s the rush?”
“I need to prepare a report for Anne’s hearing tomorrow—for the judge, you understand,” Mary says, then she glances back to me. “I guess you and I could cover the basics, Dr. Vidler. If you don’t mind.”
“Of course.” I sigh. I do mind—I just want to go back into Annie, but I know the alternative is Annie having to have this conversation, and I know we can’t afford that right now.
“And I’ll need to speak to you, too, Dr. Rogers,” Mary adds. “Could you spare me a few minutes sometime today?”
“When you’re finished with Alexis, find my office and have my secretary call me,” Eliza says abruptly. “I’ve got rounds to do now. I’ll come as soon as I can.”
She gives us a curt nod and shakes her head a little as she walks briskly away.
“Can I join you?” Sam asks, and I hesitate. I don’t even know why. It just doesn’t seem right that Sam should have to sit through this—but then again, he heard most of it last night, and I’m frazzled, so the idea of backup is appealing.
“Thanks,” I murmur, and I take his hand.
“Let’s walk up to the meeting room, shall we?” Mary murmurs. “We can finish this conversation there.”
“Actually,” Sam says, “would you mind if we go to my consulting room? It was a late night—I suspect both Lexie and I could do with some coffee, and we’ll be much more comfortable there.”
“You’re a doctor, too?” Mary says, and her eyes widen again, as if she just can’t make sense of two successful professionals having any connection to a failure like my sister. I want to wrap my hands around her skinny neck and throttle her. Instead, I clench Sam’s hand tighter, conscious of the sharpness of my gaze but unable to prevent it. “Well, certainly, Dr. Hawke. Lead the way.”
Sam’s receptionist brings a pot of coffee and some cookies, and we sit around the little conference table in his office. Mary sets her notepad and a clipboard with some printed forms onto the table, and once she’s added sugar to her coffee and thanked Sam for his hospitality, she turns her gaze back to me.
“I just want to be very clear, Dr. Vidler,” she says quietly. “My role here is to help the court keep that precious little baby in your sister’s belly safe. I’m not here to judge, I’m here to help. The state of Alabama has terrible issues with drug-addicted babies—”
“Babies cannot be ‘drug-addicted,’” I say tersely. “It doesn’t make any sense. There are two components of an addiction, a physiological component and a psychological component. The correct term is physiologically dependent. That’s not the same as ‘drug-addicted.’”
“Well, sounds to me like you’re splitting hairs, but it doesn’t matter much. You can use whatever term you want, Dr. Vidler. Your sister has been abusing heroin while she’s pregnant, so I’m sure you’re aware her little one is in for a world of pain once it’s born. Her decisions to this point suggest to me that she’s not fit to continue making choices that affect the welfare of her child, which is why we are petitioning to remove her parental rights.”
“Is that what the hearing is about tomorrow?” Sam asks quietly, and Mary nods.
“Yes, that’s correct. Judge Brown will consider my report and make a ruling. If he rules in favor of our petition, well—if her specialist does agree with your assessment, Dr. Vidler, and Anne can’t go off to rehab or detox just yet, then I’ll recommend that she remain in custody either here or via incarceration until the birth. Just to keep the baby safe, you understand.”
“We need a lawyer,” I say, exhaling, and Sam nods. I glance at him. “Should I go find a lawyer before we discuss her history?”
“Oh, no, Dr. Vidler, that’s not necessary.” Mary gives a gentle laugh. “No, this is just background about Anne’s medical history. I’m a social worker. I’m not making any decisions myself—just gathering the facts to assist the court.” She offers me a consoling smile. “So, why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me how long your sister has been an addict for?”
I give her as little detail as I can, but still, I’m racked with guilt as I speak to the social worker, as if I’m betraying Annie just by telling the truth. I skim over years of frustration and pain, providing only a reluctant list of points. Mary’s expression is grim when we start, and by the time I reach the events of the previous night, she’s stopped writing and she’s staring at the table. I’m not even sure she’s listening to me, until I stop midsentence and Mary looks up. There’s sadness in her gaze, and I have an odd spurt of adrenaline pump through my body as I realize that she has already made up her mind.