“No. Let me see.”
Reluctantly Roberta takes her hand from the image. Cam drags it toward him, rotates it, and enlarges it. He can tell the picture was not taken with the girl’s permission. It’s framed at an odd angle. Perhaps taken secretly. A memory flashes. This same girl. On a bus.
“That picture is not supposed to be here,” Roberta says. “Can we move on now?”
“Not yet.”
Cam can’t quite tell where the picture was taken. It’s outdoors. Dusty. The girl plays a piano under something dark and metallic that shades her. The girl is beautiful.
“Clipped wings. Broken heaven.” Cam closes his eyes, remembering Roberta’s order that he find the proper words before he speaks. “She’s like . . . an angel damaged when she fell to earth. She plays music to heal herself, but nothing can heal her brokenness.”
“Very nice,” says Roberta unconvincingly. “On to the next one.”
Roberta reaches over and tries to drag the picture away again, but Cam slides it to his corner of the table, out of her reach. “No. Stays here.”
The fact that Roberta is bothered by this just makes Cam more curious. “Who is she?”
“Nobody important.” But clearly from Roberta’s reaction she is.
“I will meet her.”
Roberta chuckles bitterly. “Very unlikely.”
“We’ll see.”
They get on with their mental exercises, but Cam’s mind stays on the girl. Someday he will find out who she is and meet her. He will learn everything he needs to know, or more accurately, unify and organize all the things that are already there in his fragmented brain. Once he does, he’ll be able to speak to this girl with confidence—and then, in his own words, and in whatever language he needs to, he’ll be able to ask her why she looks so sad, and what unfortunate twist of fate has left her in a wheelchair.
Part Two
Whollies
34 CHILDREN ABANDONED UNDER NEBRASKA’S SAFE-HAVEN LAW
by Nate Jenkins, The Associated Press
Friday, November 14, 2008
LINCOLN, Neb. (AP) Nebraska officials geared up Friday for a special legislative session designed to deal with a unique “safe haven” law whose unintended consequences have allowed parents to abandon nearly three dozen children as old as 17.
As the session to correct the law approached, a 5-year-old boy was dropped off at an Omaha hospital on Thursday night. Earlier in the day, a woman dropped off two teenagers at another Omaha hospital, but one of them, a 17-year-old girl, fled. Authorities have not found her yet.
As of Friday afternoon, 34 children had been abandoned under the Nebraska law, five of them from other states.
Nebraska was the last state to enact a safe-haven law, intended to take in unwanted newborns. But unlike laws in other states, Nebraska’s doesn’t include an age limit.
Some observers have interpreted the current law as applying to children as old as 18.
The full article can be found at: http://articles.nydailynews.com/2008-11-14/news/17910664_1_safe-haven-law-omaha-hospital-unique-safe-haven-law
4 - Parents
They’re together as they open the door. A father and mother, dressed for bed. Worry lines fill their foreheads as they see the nature of their visitors. This is an anticipated yet unexpected moment.
A Juvey-cop stands at the door with three plainclothes officers to back him up. The lead Juvey-cop is young. They all seem young. They recruit them earlier and earlier these days.
“We’re here to process Unwind subject 53-990-24. Noah Falkowski.” The parents glance at each other in alarm.
“You’re a day early,” the mother says.
“The schedule has been pushed up,” the lead cop tells her. “We have the contractual right to change the pickup date. Can we please have access to the subject?”
The father takes a step forward to look at the name on the officer’s uniform.
“Look here, Officer Mullard,” he says in a loud whisper, “we’re not prepared to surrender our son just yet. As my wife has told you, we were expecting you tomorrow. You’ll have to come back then.”
But E. Robert Mullard waits for no one. He barges into the house, with his team following behind him.
“Good God!” the father says. “Have some decency.”
Mullard lets out a guffaw. “Decency? What do you know about decency?” Then he looks down the bedroom hallway. “Noah Falkowski!” he calls loudly. “If you’re back there, come out now.”
A fifteen-year-old boy peeks out of a bedroom doorway, takes one look at the guests, and slams his door. Mullard signals to the brawniest of his cohorts. “He’s all yours.”
“I’m on it.”
“Stop him, Walter!” the woman begs her husband. Walter, put on the spot, turns to Mullard with a vengeance. “I want to talk to your superior.”
And then Mullard pulls out a gun. “You’re in no position to make demands.”
It’s clearly just a tranq pistol, but considering that nasty business about the Juvey-cop killed with his own gun, Walter and his wife aren’t about to take any chances.
“Sit down,” Mullard says, nodding toward the dining room. The couple hesitates. “I said sit down!” And then two of Mullard’s team force them to sit in two dining room chairs. The father, a reasonable man, assumes he’s dealing with another reasonable young professional like himself.