Pity.
I did wait until I got inside to start sniffling. “What happened? Where’s my mom?” Because in my gut I already knew that’s what this was about.
They exchanged a glance and the man got to do the honors.
I remember collapsing to my knees as they told me about the accident, a car hitting her as she crossed the street to leave work and walk to the bus stop. And then I…checked out. They asked me if I had any close family, and I shook my head.
Then they asked how old I was, if I had any family friends or any relatives I could call, and of course, I had one of those.
Only one.
I fumbled the cell phone—that Casey paid for, but I only used it for her—out of my pocket and somehow got it opened and dialed. When she answered, I broke down sobbing.
“Declan? Hello? What’s going on?”
The male deputy, and to this day I couldn’t tell you either of their names, took the phone from me and stepped into the kitchen while the woman knelt there with me and held my hands. She was a little older, and I got the impression maybe she was a mom.
Then…shewas there. Casey came flying into the apartment not long after. They’d got me off the floor and onto the couch, and she made a beeline for me, asking them questions in that practiced lawyer tone she has, even as she wrapped her arms around me and I started crying again.
They exchanged a look.
“Ma’am,” the male deputy said, “the boy is a minor. We’re going to need to—”
“Leave himrightwhere he is, withme,” she said. “I have a power of attorney for his mother that gives me custody of him. I’ll file for emancipated minor status for him. Meanwhile, consider him inmycare.”
I remember that tone well. It was one I’d heard hints of before that day, and one I’ve heard the full force of directed at myself and others plenty of times since.
Ma’am.
I closed my eyes and sobbed, feeling more than a little guilty that relief over her presence was hitting me pretty hard, and…
Something else that, at the time, I couldn’t identify and didn’t even try.
But she held me as I cried, even as she obtained the information from the officers that she’d need.
Once we were alone, she let me curl up on the couch, my head in her lap. “What am I going to do?” I’d never felt more alone.
“It’s okay,” she told me as she stroked my hair. “You’renotalone. You’ve got me. You’ve always got me, boy.” She gently rubbed my scalp, a soothing gesture that helped disengage my brain. “You can always lean on me.”
The rest of that horrible day is, thankfully, just a murky blur. Casey shepherded me through everything. She took me to ID Mom’s body, but she left me in the waiting room until she could look first. Only then did she lead me into the small room.
I’d shot up several inches since Casey walked into our lives, and I now stood taller than her, even when she wore heels. Still, with Casey’s arm around me, I looked through a small window.
Mom lay on a gurney, a sheet pulled up to her neck. “I want to see her,” I said, sniffling. “Up close.”
Casey looked to the tech who was there with us, and the woman shook her head.
Casey turned to me and cupped my face in her hands. “That’s not a good idea, sweetie,” she gently said. “She wouldn’t want you to remember her like that.”
“What am I going to do?” I asked as I started crying again.
She pulled me in for a hug and rubbed my scalp. “It’s okay, boy. I’ve got you, and I’m not going anywhere. I’ll help you through it.”
* * * *
“Need help?”
I look up to see Casey smirking at me from behind her desk.
