This was eleven days after we buried Cindy, and it should not come as a surprise to anyone that things were not going well. For starters, Cindy had nursed. Grace Elizabeth had never taken a bottle, and she wasn’t too keen about me shoving the plastic nipple in her mouth. Nor did I know what I was doing in regards to holding her at the right angle and making sure she was burped. But after ten or twelve tries, she took the formula milk, drank it right up; she must’ve been so hungry she got over the desire to fight. And I got better at giving it to her. The sleeping, as I mentioned, remained an issue. She was up most nights and slept on and off through the day, and when she was awake, she wanted to be held. So I hardly got anything done.
All of this is to say that when CPS got there, things didn’t look too good. Dirty dishes everywhere: countertops, table, couch. I hadn’t cleaned the bathroom since Cindy passed, nor had I taken out the trash. People had brought casseroles and stuff, and a few of them were in the fridge, plus on the counter sat a chicken carcass that I intended to pitch but hadn’t gotten around to. It just so happened that at the moment they knocked on the door, Grace Elizabeth was in the middle of a diaper change, which I always did on the floor. I stood up to open the door, and when I turned back, there was the baby with her dirty diaper over her face, must’ve pulled it up right when I went to get the door.
“Mr. Morrison,” said the man, after snooping around for a bit, “Child Protective Services has determined that it is in the best interest of the child to remove her from this home.”
“Remove?”
“Yes. That means we’ll take her into our custody.”
“The hell you will.” I scooped Grace Elizabeth off the floor and held her close. I could barely believe my ears.
The woman slipped out the door and waved to the squad car from the front porch.
“Mr. Morrison, this doesn’t need to get ugly.”
“You come in here, find some dirty dishes and some trash that needs to go out, and you determine that I’m unfit and think you can just haul off with my child. Well, I got news for you. You can’t just take her.”
“Actually, Kenny, they can.” A new voice, at the door. Don Williams, a buddy of mine. He’d run track with both Cindy and me in high school. He was a deputy now.
“Donny—”
“Listen, Kenny. They have a court order for removal.”
“A court order?” I shifted Grace Elizabeth in my arms. “And they brought you along, for backup.” I was piecing things together. “Which means this isn’t about the dishes and the trash. This has been in the works for a while, this—plan. To take my child away. To ‘remove’ her.” I replayed the previous days. Mrs. Judge bringing groceries to the house, offering to take the baby so I could rest. I glared at Donny, pointed a shaking finger. “You could’ve had the decency to warn me, Don.” But I knew how he was, ethical and very serious about his work, and he never would’ve bent a rule, not even for an old friend.
He tucked his hands into the pockets of his brown trousers. “This is a setback, Kenny. That’s all. It’s not the end. You have rights.”
“You’re damn right I do. I’m her father. If you think I’m gonna let you walk out of here without a fight—”
“I know you’ve had your share of hardships. First Lincoln, then Cindy. Not to mention the—” He fumbled for words. “—the challenges you’ve encountered, adjusting to life back Stateside.”
I knew what he was referencing, one incident from shortly after I got home, and it stung. I stole a glance at the CPS worker, who was sliding her feet back, inching away from me, in movements so slight they were barely noticeable.
“It’s a shame, the whole thing,” Don said. “But listen. The courts, they want families to be together. You get yourself a lawyer, they’ll get this thing sorted out.”
“And who will preside over that? Let me guess. The honorable Judge Loveland.” I shook my head. “You and I both know how that’ll go.”
“Kenny, he won’t preside.” Don gestured for me to follow him into the kitchen. “I’m saying this as your friend. Don’t lose your cool here.” He leaned in close. “You can’t afford to make a scene right now. Not with your—history. It’ll all go on record. Make things much worse for you.” He swallowed. “Especially with me here. God knows I’d never want to testify against you, Kenny, especially on the matter of you and your baby girl, but I would, if I had to, and you know it.”