Why talk at all except to report that the sheriff’s deputy showed up the next day with a teenage kid, made-up heavy as a drag queen, stinking like the inside of a funeral parlor. I stood at the door of my house but they wouldn’t look at me. I talked to them but they wouldn’t talk to me, because they said they would only talk to the legal parent. They said they would only talk to Perley’s mother but they didn’t mean me. And I heard unhygienic, evidence of neglect, criminal activity—a fucking vendetta, claimed Helen—lack of supervision, possible lack of adequate nutrition. So no one needed to tell me what had happened yesterday while I was gone. I could see what had happened. Helen had opened up her mouth and talked and talked and talked. Lily had closed her mouth and leaked water down her face. Perley had bragged. And me, why even say I should have been there, when here I was now, a ghost? A hat rack. There but not there. A wolf without a pack. Disappeared.

They wouldn’t talk to me as they got Perley ready to go, so I talked to Lily, who looked like there was a phone call in her ear, a radio signal she couldn’t quite make out. I don’t think she knew that her mouth was open or that her eyes were wet.

“Ask them,” I said, as they told Perley he could choose his favorite toys to take with him, as he said, “I don’t have toys, I have tools.”

“Ask them what?” asked Lily.

“Ask them where they’re taking him. Ask them who we talk to. How we follow up. Ask them who we can call. How we can get him back. You’re the one with the legal rights here,” I said. “So ask them.”

Lily said to Perley, “Don’t worry, my Piglet. This is just a mix-up. Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid, everyone, okay?” Perley said, fumbling to unzip his knapsack. “I can spend the night by myself. I don’t need you people all the time, okay? Okay?”

“Ask them,” I said.

“All the things Karen said,” Lily said. “How do we do those things?”

Helen said to the sheriff’s deputy, “You fucking piece of shit.”

“Careful,” the sheriff’s deputy said. “I heard how you’ve been behaving. You need to keep your temper.”

“You’re a shitbag,” Helen said.

“I’m doing what’s best for the child,” he said. “People roaming all around this place, no one’s looking after the kid, no respect for the law, fudging your community service hours, trying to game the system. You people need to figure out how to live.”