Chapter Five
“I came as fast as I could,” Farrah said as she hustled towards me from the double sliding doors that lead into the ER. She had obviously heard all of the commotion in the background because she arrived at the closest hospital from my house only moments after I had. “How’s Sean?” she quickly asked with a voice full of concern.
“I think he’s going to be fine.” My insides trembled from the close call.
“What happened?” she questioned as she got within arm’s length of me.
“He got a hold of a cup of bleach,” I nervously explained.
Farrah gasped as she grabbed my hands. “Oh no.”
With reddened eyes, I confessed, “I was just about to mop the floor. I-I-I just put the bleach in the cup to mop the floor. When I heard my cell ring, I left it there to answer my phone. And-and,” I stammered, unable to keep my eyes locked on hers. Every time the curtain moved where they had my son, I stared to see what was going on.
“And where was Sean?”
“He was in bed.” Tears streamed down my face. “I had already given him a bath and tucked him in. I honestly thought he was asleep,” I tried to convince her. “I ended up on the phone arguing with Kevin, and then you called right after.” I abandoned my guard on the curtain and said with complete conviction, “I would never do anything to intentionally hurt Sean.”
Farrah hugged me and patted my back. “Oh I know Melinda, I know,” she consoled. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“On the way in the ambulance, he said that he hadn’t swallowed anything,” I confided as I stepped away from our embrace. “He just spilled it when he was reaching for the cup.”
“Oh, thank God he didn’t drink it. My God …” Farrah folded her hands into a fist and with closed eyes said, “Thank You, Lord.” She opened her eyes and followed mine to the curtain where my son was located.
“So, he’s okay?”
“He seemed to be when they took him in the back.” I craned my neck to see beyond the linen curtains they had blocked me out of, and then turned back to her. “But thank you for coming.”
Before I could settle into the comfort of my own words of hope, I watched as a fair skinned woman with a folder and an ink pen in her hand strut towards the front desk. I watched as she held up an ID badge to the ER desk clerk. Several seconds later, she peered in my direction. She nodded at the clerk and immediately walked in my direction. I prepared myself for her introduction, but she walked past me and straight behind the curtain where my son was located.
“Who is that? Why is she back there?” I asked the nurse who served as a bodyguard with a bouncer stance stationed just outside of where my son was. “I want to see my son,” I demanded.
“Mrs. Black, I need you to take a step back and lower your voice,” she calmly said.
We participated in a staring match until I finally surrendered to her orders.
The petite nurse dressed in ocean blue scrubs cautiously glanced at the security guard a few feet away. She looked back to me and took a few steps away from the curtains.
“Please, tell me what’s going on,” I pleaded with her.
“Your son came in with abrasions on his chest.” She released a heavy sigh and carefully said, “Child protective services were called.”