And then she let go and started crying in earnest. She closed her eyes, her body immobile except for her shaking shoulders. I moved closer and carefully wrapped my arms around her. She held herself rigid and away from me. She didn’t allow herself to take comfort. But I held her anyway, saying nothing as she wailed. I rubbed her back and ran my hand down her hair as I tried to soothe her. But nothing helped.

Dania was broken.

When she was finally able to stop crying, furiously wiped away her tears. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy and her nose was red.

“What happened, Dania?” I asked her.

She chewed on her thumbnail and looked like she was trying not to cry again.

“I didn’t know anything was wrong. I didn’t know he had a heart defect! How was I supposed to know that?” she asked, sounding dangerously close to hysterical.

“Your doctor never said there was anything wrong?” I asked incredulously, not sure I believed her. I had seen been with Dania to several of her prenatal appointments. And I knew that she tended to disregard and dismiss anything she didn’t want to hear.

“I don’t know…maybe he did. I can’t remember,” she admitted. She lifted her tear stained face, her eyes pleading with me for something I couldn’t give her.

“I just want to see him. I need to know he’s okay. I know I f**ked up! But I need my little boy.” Dania’s words ended on a strangled whisper. I gripped her hand, letting her squeeze as tightly as she needed to.

I didn’t say anything…pretty sure nothing could be said to make this better for her.

I was sitting with Dania later in the afternoon. I hadn’t left her side except to go get her some lunch from Ma’s Diner. I picked up her favorite cheese covered French fries, hoping she would eat something. She had given me a tired smile and thanked me but had pushed the box away.

Her numbness scared me. Even in high school when our foster mom had knocked her around, or after Stu had dumped her, she had never lost herself. She had retained that spark that was undeniably Dania.

But that had all changed. Her fire had gone out.

Dania had given up.

Her obstetrician, Dr. Ball, came in several times to check on her. Dr. Ball had asked me to step out of the room so he could have a look at the incision site from her C-section.

I did as I was asked and went out into the hallway. While I was waiting I saw a couple of people in professional suits talking with the nurse on duty.

Instinct told me they were here for Dania. And I was right. A few minutes later, the nurse led them down the hallway towards me. I watched as they slipped into Dania’s room and closed the door. Dr. Ball and the nurse left a few minutes later, telling me I was free to go inside.

Dania’s shoulders were shaking when I returned. Her hair covered her face, but I knew she was crying. One of the suits sat in the chair closest to Dania’s bed. The other stood a little off to the side. They both looked up at me as I entered.

The woman in the chair gave me a strained smile. “Are you a family member?” she asked me.

“She’s my sister,” Dania said defiantly. She had some paperwork in her lap, the pages blotted with her tears.

“Oh, well hello. My name is Sharon Miller. I’m a caseworker for the Department of Health and Human Resources Child Protective Services Unit. I’m here to talk about Miss Blevins’ baby.”

“He has a name! It’s Brandon!” she yelled, her tears melting away into anger. I was relieved to see some of her spark return. Angry Dania was a hell of a lot better than unemotional Dania.

Brandon.

That was the first time I had heard his name.

“Of course.” Sharon Miller nodded her head and looked down at the file in her lap. “Your hearing has been scheduled for this Friday. It would behoove you to be there,” she said. Who the hell says words like behoove? I wanted to smack her.

“At this time the judge will listen to the evidence and determine whether Brandon will be remanded into the care of the state for an extended period of time. I’m putting together a service plan that I will be passing on to your foster care worker. It details the criteria for visitation and possible reunification down the line. But Miss Blevins, this is serious. Your son has significant medical issues that will impact his health for the rest of his life. This is directly related to your negligence. The judge will be taking your doctor’s reports into account as well as the report from the neonatal unit who are currently providing his care. You need to start thinking about where you want to go from here, and what you can do to see your son again, if that’s what you want,” Sharon said, her pleasant smile evaporating. Her mouth set into a firm line as she looked at Dania with barely disguised contempt.

“Wait, so Brandon is in state custody?” I asked, trying to understand exactly what Dania was facing.

I was looking at Dania who had started to cry again, her hands covering her face. Obviously I wasn’t going to get any answers for her, so I turned to Sharon who nodded.

“We were notified by the pediatrician on duty after Brandon’s birth. Miss Blevins was reported to be intoxicated when she arrived at the hospital and was rushed in for an emergency C-section. The unborn child was at significant risk. Brandon was born with a hole in his heart that has required surgery. His lungs are underdeveloped, given that he is three months premature. He is currently breathing through a ventilator. His condition is very grave. And while it is believed he will survive, he will have a long, difficult road ahead of him. And it is alleged that his condition is due to Miss Blevins’ continued drug and alcohol use while pregnant. Brandon, aside from his defects, was also diagnosed with fetal alcohol syndrome. The state has been granted emergency custody, which is standard in cases like this. He will be found a foster home after he is strong enough to leave the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit over at Barkely General.”