“What was what? I don’t think I said a single word.”
“You didn’t have to, your face said enough.”
Tristan arches an eyebrow at me. I feel like he’s trying to make a point here, but I still don’t know what he’s talking about.
“What?” I ask, my voice not as indignant as I was hoping for. “I went in. I took vitals. I took notes. What could I possibly have done wrong?”
There’s a beat of silence between us where he’s probably trying to figure out if I’m bullshitting him, but when I continue to stare right back at him, waiting for the big reveal, he lets out a long, heavy sigh. Tristan brings both hands up to rub his face, like a sudden wave of exhaustion just hit him, before eventually looking at me again.
“What?”
I need him to spit it out.
“Your attitude in there was so fucking toxic, you didn’t need to say anything. Everyone knew you were pissed. The parents did, I did, that little fucking boy did. You’re dropping shit and moving around like you wanted to hit something. And you really expect me to believe you had no idea you were acting like you were a cat’s whisker from turning that call into a fist fight over god-knows-what?”
I jerk back, initially just trying to process what he’s accusing me of. I wasn’t like that, was I?
Normally when I’m pissed, I know it. I feel it everywhere. Down to my toes, like a cleansing burn. The whole time I was in there, I only felt numb.
“You’re exaggerating. Maybe I was a little annoyed. That guy’s an asshole. He’s obviously neglecting his child. You’re the one who hustled us out of there giving him all that ‘yes, sir’ bullshit. We should be in there forcing him to take Jaden back to the doctor, and reporting him to child services for neglect ifhe doesn’t. You’ve seen how he is, he obviously doesn’t think anything is wrong.”
Tristan stays very still, continuing to stare at me for long enough to be completely unnerving. When he does speak, his voice is soft, which is somehow worse than if he was yelling at me.
“I agree he seems like an asshole, but we both know how expensive this shit is. The system is fucked. They can’t afford specialists. The fact that they’re trying not to go into massive debt isn’t neglect. They call the ambulance when he seizes. They go to their pediatrician. It’s not perfect, but they seem like they’re trying. And it’s probably really confusing for them that the seizures are so hard to catch, you know how difficult it is to see absence seizures like that. What’s confusing for me is seeing you talking about calling DSS on someone. In a million years, I never thought I’d hear you say it. Not for something that isn’t cut and dry.”
That trips me up for a second. Why was calling child services on this family the first thing on my mind?
I ignore the thought, because I don’t have an answer.
The important thing here is that I’m right. He doesn’t deserve to have a kid like this if all he’s going to do is stare at him like he’s an alien and fail to take care of him. Jaden’s sweet and smart and kind and he deserves better.
“Cade?” Tristan’s voice breaks into my thoughts.
“Look, whatever. We’re mandated reporters, right? Don’t we have an obligation to do something?”
“Yeah,” he says slowly, like I’m a child. “If there’s evidence of abuse. He’s being taken care of, though. Maybe not in the way that you would, or the way they would if they were richer, but last I checked being poor isn’t a fucking crime. Technically.”
I roll my eyes at him and don’t bother to hide it, because he’s not getting it.
“So, what? We’re just supposed to walk away like a couple of assholes? You see what he’s like. He’s not right. He doesn’t act like someone who loves him. There has to be stuff we don’t see. How do we know he’s not abusing him in another way?”
Tristan cocks his head to the side, brow creased and all of his concern and incredulity written clearly on his face.
“What exactly do you want me to do, Cade? Have him arrested on vibes? Walk in there and say I’m sorry, but it feels off in here, you seem like an asshole, I’m taking your kid. And then what? Drop Jaden off at emergency care? Or do you want me to call DSS and yell at them when they ask me if I have a shred of evidence other than your gut feeling? I’m not gonna lie to you kid, I’m getting very fucking concerned here, and he’s not the one I’m concerned about right now.”
I exhale sharply, my irritation fighting to take over. We need to dosomething. We can’t let things happen to him just because he’s a stranger.
I get up, my head bowed under the ceiling of the ambulance as I try to move past Tristan and get through the doors. He grabs me though, pushing me back to the cot with a firm hand on my chest and holding me in place while he keeps talking.
“Look, I understand that you’re upset. I really do. And I promise, I don’t disagree with you that something’s off here. I’ll do every screening I can any time we get called here. But there’s a reason our powers are fucking limited. If you and Silas had a kid and called an ambulance in ten years, and the paramedic looked at two men living together and said ‘oof, vibes are off here homos, I’m taking your kid’, would that be okay? It’s an imperfect system but I’m very much pro us not being allowed to be fucking baby snatchers based on our personal whims and feelings. You hear me? I just want to know why you’re so worked up about this in the first place.”
I can’t do this right now. I…. I can’t. I don’t feel right. Everything inside me is clicking and pitching slightly off-center, and it’s making my skin crawl for no reason.
Distantly, I wonder if this is what Silas feels like when he gets overwhelmed by situations.
But that wouldn’t make any sense, because I’ve had a lot of problems, but social anxiety isn’t one of them. I’m fine.
“Fine. Can we go?”
