The scent of lavender filled the room. Or at least the scent of the air freshener that is set to the upper corner of the room; which occasionally misted the air. The women in front of me held her child in her lap. The couch under me sunk in almost to the floor. On the coffee table was an array of ash trays; all of which happened to be cleaned out before I visit. The carpet crept in between my toes; the idea of my feet soaking in it made my teeth chew into each other. The child in front of me had a deep red mark on his upper eye with a row of three scratches, the one in the middle deeper that the others; which matched the diamond set on Ms.Belks ring finger. As I have been told before by other mothers and fathers: the child fell.
Scribbling in my notepad made Ms.Belks shuffle in her seat. Uncomfortable at the idea of me figuring out what is really going on, or maybe more scared about her checks not coming in anymore. Looking at my paperwork the child is listed to have a handful of physical and mental disorders. Just by looking I can tell almost all is false. Another lazy mother who knows how to work the system. With all these disabilities, she probably receives almost $800 more a month than she normally would.
Her seemingly innocent smile shined yellow with the kisses left by cigarettes. Her eyes as alive as roadkill, and her personality as friendly and interesting as DMV employees. Noticeable little dots and burns lined her arms, as well as her sides. The husband never seemed to be around when I stop in. Maybe he's never here; maybe he never was.
As my foot stepped out the front door of the apartment, her corroded voice followed.
“Looks like we wont be havn’ these meetin's anymore.” I turned and glanced back at her, the child on her waist.
“Why is that?” I responded politely
“Well...I be done fed up with this child. The father said he be doin’ sometin’ but he ain’t doin anything! He ain’t give me as much money as I want to spend on myself so I said it. I am done. I am givin this kid up for adoption.”
It took me a moment to comprehend what I had just heard. This mother was giving her own flesh and blood for her selfish reasons. He still hung on her side blissfully; unaware of what is about to happen to him.
“You realize that you would not be getting those nice checks every couple weeks if you give him up.” I muttered
“Yeah I thought 'bout that,” she started, “but ya know, I still be gettin’ those checks if he here or not. Maybe not as much but I still get em. I can go do whatever I want now. No staying home on weekends, and no reason to keep my piss clean!” she exclaimed, with a smirk pulling at her lips.
“Like you did any of those things before.” I whispered to myself.
“S’cuse me?”
"I said: like you did any of those things before. I am not an idiot, Ms.Belks, and I suggest you stop acting like one."
"Like what?" She replied, her free hand on her hips and her cheeks becoming flushed.
"An absolute blockheaded twit, Ms.Belks."