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MIA

The social workers blink at me placidly from the hallway.

“Mr. Lee.” I force myself to smile. “Mrs. Deloera. What brings you here so early? I thought we didn’t have another visit scheduled until next month?”

“We don’t,” Howard Lee says, his nose already up in the air like a sniffer dog. “May we come in?”

Can I say no? I want to snark, but swallow back the impulse. Knowing Mr. Lee, he might actually write that down in his godforsaken little notepad.

“Please.” I smile through my teeth. “Make yourselves at home.”

“Thank you, dear,” Itzel Deloera says. Her eyes crinkle behind her half-moon glasses. “We’ll only be a minute.”

Her colleague, on the other hand, just plows right in. “Where’s the child?”

“Eli?” Itzel calls, soft and grandmotherly, her head peeking into the living room.

“Aunt Itzel!” Eli jumps down from the couch, forgetting the cereal in his hands entirely.

The bowl rolls, then spills all over the floor.

“Oh…” Eli goes, panic flitting over his little face. “Oh, no, no?—”

“Don’t worry, baby.” I stroke his head, calming him down before he can have an episode. “I’ll clean this up. Why don’t you go color a little with Mrs. Deloera?”

“But I made all this mess, Mommy…” he sniffles. “The cereal…”

“Cereal’s very cheap,” I reassure him. “We can buy a fresh box whenever we want. And luckily, hardwood floors are easy to clean. See?” I wipe at some of the mess with a paper tissue nearby. “Good as new, yeah?”

Slowly, his lower lip stops trembling. “Okay,” he mumbles.

“Now, why don’t you show Mrs. Deloera your new markers?”

Eli trudges towards Itzel. She smiles kindly down on him. “There’s my favorite young artist! Come on, let’s find your sketchbook…”

She takes Eli’s hand and they disappear into his room. I’ve gone through this song and dance countless times, and yet, I still can’t get used to it—seeing my kid being led away by a stranger. Fortunately, Mrs. Deloera’s as inoffensive as they come.

If only that could be said for her colleague.

“Can I offer you anything, Mr. Lee?” I force out. “Coffee? Water?”

A laxative? Help removing the stick that’s surgically inserted up your ass?

Lee scowls at my living room. He doesn’t seem to be appreciating the mess of plushies and toy cars strewn all over the floor. “No, thank you.”

Then, as if drawn by a sudden realization, his eyes zero in on me. Like, really zero in.

“When did you come back last night?”

“What?” I blink. “Why is it any of your?—”

“Kindly answer the question, Ms. Winters. Where were you last night?”

His icy voice sends a shiver down my spine. I take one look at myself and realize what he must have seen: a woman in a night dress, barefoot, hair all mussed up and makeup haphazardly washed off—and two deep, black bags under her eyes.

Like someone who’s been out all night partying.

Shit.

Panic swirls in my stomach, but so does fury. “When my shift was over,” I grit. It’s the truth—technically. “What exactly are you implying, Mr. Lee?”

“Do I need to spell it out?” he asks. “I believe the conditions for custody were very clear, Ms. Winters: You were to keep your job, foster a safe home environment?—”

“—which I have ?—”

“—and never leave your child home alone again.” His eyes narrow. “We don’t want history to repeat itself, do we?”

Cold sweat breaks down my back. Guilt swims up my throat. I force myself to swallow, to hide from Mr. Lee how badly he’s rattled me.

We don’t want history to repeat itself.

“I’ll ask you once more, Ms. Winters: where were you last night? ”

“With me.”

We both turn to the tiny voice in the hallway.

“Mommy was here,” Eli insists. “She tucked me into bed and kissed me goodnight.”

Mr. Lee stares at Eli. I feel like I must be doing the same, too shocked to speak.

“Eli,” Lee says, his tone marginally gentler, “you know it’s not good to lie, right?”

“I’m not lying!” Eli cries out, suddenly ferocious. He isn’t very intimidating, but I can tell he’s trying to be. His fists are balled up at his sides, his tiny brow furrowed as far as it can be. It makes that horrible guilt stab me even deeper.

He’s doing it for me.

He’s trying to protect me.

God, I don’t deserve him.

“Okay,” Lee concedes reluctantly. “But she mentioned a shift. Who was with you then?”

“Aunt Kallie.”

“And when did Aunt Kallie leave?”

“Just now.” He points at the toppled bowl of cereal. “She made me breakfast. I didn’t touch the stove.”

Mr. Lee doesn’t look convinced. “Eli…”

“It’s getting late, isn’t it?” Itzel’s gentle voice breaks through. “We’d best be on our way, Howie.”

Lee—no, Howie —stiffens, visibly irritated. “Mrs. Deloera,” he says with the barest minimum of patience, “we aren’t finished here.”

“I think we are.” Her grandmotherly smile spreads softly on her wrinkled face. “Everything seems to be in order. We found Eli in the care of his mommy, didn’t we?”

The vein on Mr. Lee’s forehead starts bulging dangerously. “But?—”

“ Didn’t we, Howie?”

Finally, his stubbornness gives. “I suppose we did,” he mumbles, like he’s being forced to swallow a particularly sour lemon.

“Good. Then off we go.” Itzel waves. “Goodbye, Eli. Goodbye, Mia, dear. Be good for me, won’t you?”

“Yes, Mrs. Deloera,” Eli says politely.

“We’ll be good,” I promise.

Mr. Lee glares at me. “See you next time, Ms. Winters. Eli.”

Then they’re out.

I slump against the door, face in my hands. My body slides to the floor. If I’d been five minutes later…

If, for some reason, I hadn’t made it back in time…

They would have taken him. My son.

I feel a tug on my sleeve. When I peek through my fingers, a worried little face blinks back at me. “Are you okay, Mommy?”

“Of course,” I lie. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Eli curls up next to me. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “It’s my fault they keep coming.”

“Oh, baby.” I pull him into a hug. “No, no, no. You didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, I’m the one who should be apologizing. You lied to cover for me just now, didn’t you?”

His lips press into a thin, guilty line. “Am I in trouble?”

“Of course not.” I hold him closer. “Thank you. I’m sorry you had to do that.”

He shakes his head. “I want to protect you, Mommy. Like you protect me.”

My eyes grow wet. I force myself to blink back the tears. “Hey,” I whisper. “Wanna know the good news I had for you?”

Eli peers up at me. “What news?”

“I have the day off.” I grin. “Wanna go shoe shopping?”

Eli’s face brightens instantly. “Can we?!”

“Only if you get dressed real fast.”

I watch him hurtle towards his bedroom like a tiny tornado.

Happy— like kids are supposed to be.

For the first time in hours, I feel like I’ve done something right.