“Suggest anything?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Were those the only times? You
think maybe he ever touched you when you were younger?”
I hadn’t thought about that. “I
don’t know. I’m not sure.”
Angela inhaled and nodded and
studied her notes. Then she sat back and considered me. “So what would you
like to see happen?”
“Uh . . .”
“I mean,” Angela added, “if you
could have anything in the world happen right now—if you could say to me, ‘Angela,
make this thing better’—what would you want me to do?”
It was a serious question asked of
a sixteen-year-old girl, and I appreciated it. I reciprocated by giving the
question long, serious thought before answering.
“Here’s what I want.”
I leaned forward in anticipation of
what I might say, but Angela slouched back and put her feet up on the chair
beside her and lit another cigarette off her half-finished one. It was her way
of telling me I had plenty of time.
I didn’t answer with childish
fantasies about crushing my father’s groin or seeing him hauled off in chains.
The truth was, I didn’t care so much about hurting him anymore. What mattered
to me was Mikey crying in the doorway to the kitchen. What mattered was the
image of his sweet little body being split apart by the vile filthy instrument
of my father. What mattered was getting Mikey free, and making the freedom
stick so he could live the right life from now on.
“I want my brother out of the house
and enough money for all of us to live on and I want my father never to see
either one of us unless we decide we want to.”
Angela nodded thoughtfully. “Seems
fair.”
“But I don’t want him to go to
jail.”
“That’s not really in your control.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because of what you’ve told me—now
I know.”
“Then forget what I told you.”
“See, I can’t do that, either.”
Angela stubbed out her cigarette, removed another from the packet, then changed
her mind and slid it back into place. “Let me explain something about the
law. What you told me today is confidential. You understand attorney-client
privilege?”
“Yes.”
“It’s like priest-penitent.”
If Posie had been there she would
have scowled at the mere mention of the word.
“Whatever you’ve told me today, I
can’t say unless you give me permission. But —and this is a big but—if I
have reason to believe a crime is about to be committed, I have an independent
duty to inform the police so they can stop it. Do you understand that?”
The cold sweat was back. “I think
so.”
“Now, it’s a little fuzzy here
because when I look at what you’ve told me, I ask myself are these enough facts
that I’d be comfortable going to court and filing a lawsuit? I have your word
about what you think is going on with your brother, but I don’t really have any
facts. From what you’ve told me today, I don’t think I would file a lawsuit.
But do I have reason to believe a crime will be committed? Reason to believe?
Yeah, maybe I do.”
“But I wouldn’t have told you!”
Angela smiled. “Yes, you would
have. Because you want to help your brother. And so do I. You might guess
from looking at that,” she said, indicating Posie’s file, “that I don’t like
men who fuck little children. In fact, you might say I have a personal mission
against men like that, so when I hear about a boy like Mikey maybe getting
diddled by his daddy, that’s something I want to know about. That’s someone I’d
like to help if I can. You understand?”
“Please, you can’t call the
police. I’m not ready for that.”
“But you see, Lizzie, don’t you
think your brother is? If it’s really like you say?”
I considered that, and knew she was
right, but it was all moving too fast and I did sincerely wish I hadn’t come
there. I hadn’t figured it out in advance, and now I was caught.
“What if I tell you
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Were those the only times? You
think maybe he ever touched you when you were younger?”
I hadn’t thought about that. “I
don’t know. I’m not sure.”
Angela inhaled and nodded and
studied her notes. Then she sat back and considered me. “So what would you
like to see happen?”
“Uh . . .”
“I mean,” Angela added, “if you
could have anything in the world happen right now—if you could say to me, ‘Angela,
make this thing better’—what would you want me to do?”
It was a serious question asked of
a sixteen-year-old girl, and I appreciated it. I reciprocated by giving the
question long, serious thought before answering.
“Here’s what I want.”
I leaned forward in anticipation of
what I might say, but Angela slouched back and put her feet up on the chair
beside her and lit another cigarette off her half-finished one. It was her way
of telling me I had plenty of time.
I didn’t answer with childish
fantasies about crushing my father’s groin or seeing him hauled off in chains.
The truth was, I didn’t care so much about hurting him anymore. What mattered
to me was Mikey crying in the doorway to the kitchen. What mattered was the
image of his sweet little body being split apart by the vile filthy instrument
of my father. What mattered was getting Mikey free, and making the freedom
stick so he could live the right life from now on.
“I want my brother out of the house
and enough money for all of us to live on and I want my father never to see
either one of us unless we decide we want to.”
Angela nodded thoughtfully. “Seems
fair.”
“But I don’t want him to go to
jail.”
“That’s not really in your control.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because of what you’ve told me—now
I know.”
“Then forget what I told you.”
“See, I can’t do that, either.”
Angela stubbed out her cigarette, removed another from the packet, then changed
her mind and slid it back into place. “Let me explain something about the
law. What you told me today is confidential. You understand attorney-client
privilege?”
“Yes.”
“It’s like priest-penitent.”
If Posie had been there she would
have scowled at the mere mention of the word.
“Whatever you’ve told me today, I
can’t say unless you give me permission. But —and this is a big but—if I
have reason to believe a crime is about to be committed, I have an independent
duty to inform the police so they can stop it. Do you understand that?”
The cold sweat was back. “I think
so.”
“Now, it’s a little fuzzy here
because when I look at what you’ve told me, I ask myself are these enough facts
that I’d be comfortable going to court and filing a lawsuit? I have your word
about what you think is going on with your brother, but I don’t really have any
facts. From what you’ve told me today, I don’t think I would file a lawsuit.
But do I have reason to believe a crime will be committed? Reason to believe?
Yeah, maybe I do.”
“But I wouldn’t have told you!”
Angela smiled. “Yes, you would
have. Because you want to help your brother. And so do I. You might guess
from looking at that,” she said, indicating Posie’s file, “that I don’t like
men who fuck little children. In fact, you might say I have a personal mission
against men like that, so when I hear about a boy like Mikey maybe getting
diddled by his daddy, that’s something I want to know about. That’s someone I’d
like to help if I can. You understand?”
“Please, you can’t call the
police. I’m not ready for that.”
“But you see, Lizzie, don’t you
think your brother is? If it’s really like you say?”
I considered that, and knew she was
right, but it was all moving too fast and I did sincerely wish I hadn’t come
there. I hadn’t figured it out in advance, and now I was caught.
“What if I tell you
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