Tina

I knew her by reputation before I met her.

It was an ugly situation.  Mom (Darla) had transferred from another county and Teresa, our director, believed that mom was trying to elude child protective services.  She was allowed to come to Chrysalis, but only with the understanding that we would contact our local agency, Childrens' Services, to continue the case with her daughter.  I think there were allegations of sexual abuse.

Tina was a slip of a girl, only about 4 years old.  But I heard rumblings from fellow staff that she was a handful with a mouth on her.

One day I was alone in the office when I turned around to see Tina standing on top of one of our filing cabinets.  I don't even know how she got up there.  It was a pretty tall cabinet, about 4 feet tall.  I went over, held up my arms, and asked her sweetly to let me help her down, I didn't want her to get hurt.  She looked down at me.

"F**k you," she said.

Somehow I was the lucky staff member who took Tina for her intake interview at Childrens' Services.

The problems started in the reception area.  Tina was a Tasmanian devil, darting around the waiting room and trying to scale the wall that separated the receptionist from the clients.  That woman must have seen it all, because I don't even remember her reacting.  Then Tina bolted out the door.  Fortunately we were in a largish administration building so I caught up to her in the catacomb of cubicles that was the child support agency across the hall.  I carried her back to Childrens' Services and held her on my lap.

She began kicking my shins.  Hard.  I wrapped one of my legs over hers so she couldn't.  I had my arms wrapped around her so she couldn't escape.  She started biting.  I kept one arm wrapped around hers and used the other to hold her under her chin.  That is how the social worker found us.

He was an earnest, kindly young man who led us into an interview room.  When he asked Tina what had happened, the transformation was remarkable.  All the spirit drained out of her.  The former ball of energy sat quietly, did not raise her eyes from the floor, and said she couldn't talk about it.  And she didn't.

The nice young man fetched one of his co-workers, an older, grandmotherly woman hoping that this would make Tina more comfortable and open to sharing.  It didn't.  The interview was a bust.

I don't know what ever happened to Tina.  Her mother was a streetwise piece of work who always seemed somewhat bemused by Tina's behavior.  Darla ended up in local public housing and managed to disappear into the underworld.  I don't think Childrens' Services ever caught up with her.

So now I find myself getting back into shelter work some 20+ years later.  It's unlikely that I'll encounter the same clients, it's more likely that the abuser this time around will be sweet little Tommy,
Martha's son.

And maybe my client will be Tina.