Putting the Pieces Together

Feeling numb is a strange feeling. It's like your mind is racing, but your body is in slow motion.

Needless to say, I forced myself to speak. I don't quite remember exactly how the words came out, but I'm guessing it went something like this:

"What happened?" I asked. "Tell me the whole story."

Sally began to speak. She didn't give me details, but at least she gave me an idea of what was going on. Apparently, Social Services had come to speak to Sally the other day. I thought for a moment, then remembered that there was indeed a woman at the kitchen table last week speaking to Sally when I arrived for my session. I didn't think much of it at the time, but perhaps I should have!

I sat with Sally for a few minutes, dumbfounded. I didn't know what to say, but I didn't want to leave either. There were just too many questions left unanswered. I didn't want to force her to confide in me, but I felt like I wanted answers. I know I wasn't their social worker, but I WAS Ben's therapist and I thought I had a right to know where he was, and why he wasn't right here, ready for our session.

"Can you tell me more?" I asked. "I still don't understand why they took him."

"I don't know," was Sally's response. "They didn't give me a reason, and when I asked them for one, they refused to tell me." She resumed her sniffling. Meanwhile, Sophia arrived into the kitchen and parked herself at the table. It was too quiet. I suddenly realized Emily was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Emily? Is she still napping?" I asked, confused. I looked at my watch and realized it was lunchtime.

Sally blew her nose and then lit up another cigarette. "No, they took Emily, too." She almost said that matter-of-factly.

"What?! Why?" I couldn't stand being in the dark about this. It was all too strange. I wanted answers!

Sally left to get another box of tissues, and I waved away all the smoke - it was starting to get to me. Sophia sat at the table like a perfect angel, taking it all in. I wondered how much she understood. I didn't think it was so appropriate (nevertheless, ethical) to be speaking of all this in front of her - after all, she was only six years old.

On her way out, Sally answered my question. "Told ya, I have no idea," she said.

How could that be? If I was their mother, I would've demanded answers! Something wasn't right.

I thought of Ben and wondered where he was. Was he with a strange family who didn't know anything about him? Was he in some shelter somewhere? Wherever he was, was he being taken care of? Was he scared? Was he crying? Was he okay?

I thought of his bright blue eyes and how they twinkled when he smiled. I thought of his little smirk and how he giggled when he was being silly. I thought of his desire to always learn new things.

At that very moment, I promised myself I wouldn't ever give up. I told myself that under no circumstance would I stop trying to uncover the truth. I simply cared too much.