Counting by 7s(25)

I barely know the woman.

I didn’t have my Healthy-Start breakfast, and not because they have never heard of it, but because I’m still having trouble swallowing.



I have a caseworker.

Pattie Nguyen tells me this after she hangs up the phone.

I ask for paper and a pen. Two of the manicurists arrive. I barely notice them.

I decide to write down my thoughts. But not my real ones. I cannot put on paper the idea that I want to scream, as loud as I can, until my throat ruptures.

So I make a list.

I try to concentrate on that.

An hour later, a woman comes into the salon.

But she doesn’t want a manicure.

She has posture that suggests lower lumbar pain. She probably sits in a chair for too long. And has inadequate abdominal strength.

I’d tell her, but I couldn’t care less.

Everyone, I now realize, lives in a world of pain. But I’m certain that mine is greater than hers.

The woman with the bad back talks up front to Pattie.

I have no idea for how long.

I’m done measuring things.

I only hear parts of the conversation.

Although it is about me, it doesn’t matter.

Nothing that they say will change the fundamental fact of my life, which is so overwhelming that I cannot give voice to it.

I do hear the woman tell Pattie that she’s handled many of “these type of cases.”

That doesn’t seem accurate.

Because how many twelve-year-old kids in Bakersfield actually lose both parents in one afternoon?

I also hear the woman explain that the Jamison Children’s Center was established by Kern County “to provide children who need emergency shelter and protection a safe, warm, and nurturing environment.”

That can’t be good.

The woman does all the talking, and Pattie doesn’t respond.

She doesn’t even say “uh-huh,” or “I understand.”

She is like me.

Silent.

I admire that in a person. The ability to keep your mouth shut is usually a sign of intelligence.

Introspection requires you to think and analyze.

It’s hard to do that when you are blabbing away.



Finally Pattie motions to the back, and the next thing I know, the official-looking woman leans over me and says: “My name is Lenore Cole and I’m here to help you.”

I hand her a piece of paper.

She looks surprised, but straightens (with a small grimace, which reinforces my diagnosis of lower back pain) and reads:

1. My parents have no relatives who are appropriate to accept legal responsibility for me.

2. I do not believe that any of my parents’ small circle of friends are in a position to take me into their lives. We did not belong to any church or other organization that might have support groups.

3. I do not wish to ever return for any reason to the house where I lived on Citrus Road. I would like you to call Haruto Ito, the owner of Ito’s Garden Services, and tell him that our backyard garden is now his responsibility. He will understand.

4. I would like to have my computer and my printer, which are in my room. There is a large cabinet with my medical file cards. I will need these. And I would also like all of the blue notebooks, as well as my clothing, the metal box under my bed with my life’s savings, the orange towel in the bathroom, my humidifier, and my copy of Atlas of Human Anatomy by Frank H. Netter and Sharon Colacino. Also my TI-89 Titanium-Plus graphing calculator, which is on my desk. Please be careful with it.

5. I would like all of the pictures of my parents put in storage for me for the future.

6. I would like to formally request a forensic autopsy be performed on both my mom and dad. I will need a copy of this report, although I will not be reading it at this time.

7. I would like my DVD of the movie Adaptation. It is in the cabinet under the television in the living room.

8. I will need the pictures and information pinned up to my bulletin board taken down and placed in a large envelope. Please take special care when handling the lemur photo signed by wildlife legends Beverly and Dereck Joubert.

9. I would like a sedative prescribed to help me deal with anxiety. I may need medication at a later date for depression, but I would need to see extensive research on its long-term effects on teenagers. And I would also like a complex multi-vitamin designed specifically for juvenile use.

10. I am going to stay for now at Happy Polish Nail Salon. It is my hope that the Nguyen family will allow this, and be compensated for taking care of me.

11. I have 7 library books. They will need to be returned. I have never incurred a late fee. I don’t want to start now.

Respectfully,

Willow Chance

The woman looks stunned by the clarity of the communication.

Or maybe the intense expression on her face is normal.

Either way, it is a relief that she doesn’t smile.

For a period of time, immeasurable now that nothing can be quantified, my caseworker tries in a variety of ways to convince me to leave with her.

I say nothing.

And I don’t move a muscle other than to take shallow, almost imperceptible breaths.

I know this can be unsettling to people.

I can’t count anymore by 7s, but I can conjugate irregular Latin verbs, and I do this while she speaks to me.

Finally, when it is obvious that none of her talking is working, the woman implies that force is an alternative.