Madge was a typical Mom
brown curly hair
liked to wear shorts and sweatshirts
friendly
cheerful
waved when she saw you
and always had a child or two
hanging onto her hands.
One time you might see two little girls
and the next time you saw her
she might have a baby in her arms.
She was a foster Mom.
One day as I walked to the store
to get a rotisserie chicken for supper
since I was tired from work
and didn't feel like cooking
I passed by her house
and heard the most awful screaming
the kind that makes you think someone is dying
and raises the hair on the back of your neck
so I ran up to the screened door
and looked in.
It was a most terrible sight!
A little boy
black-haired but with hate-filled brown eyes
was running around with a butcher knife
threatening to kill her
and Madge was trying to calm him down
while staying at a safe distance.
She motioned me in
and tried to grab him when he turned on me
and got a gash on her wrist
for her trouble.
I, thinking I could help
made the mistake of getting too close
while I was speaking in what I thought was a soothing voice
and he came after me
rage and murder in his heart
but Madge got the knife out of his hands
and all he did was run into me and knock me down.
At which point the little boy
Evan
stayed on the floor
and started pounding his forehead
so hard that a purple knot sprang up.
"Run upstairs and get a blanket off our bed"
Madge said
and I ran up and found a quilt
on a bed
and ran back down
to find Evan back on his feet
slinging knives from the kitchen drawer
shouting
"I'm gonna kill you!"
and barely missing Madge
with some of those shiny sharp knives.
Madge, panting and near to tears
asked me to spread the quilt on the floor
and together we wrestled little Evan
onto it
and wrapped him tight.
Only his face and arms were uncovered
and we wrapped his arms too
right after he reached up and punched Madge
and bloodied her nose.
I felt like I had walked into a nightmare.
We both sat back on our heels
breathing hard
Madge wiping her bloody nose
with a hand
as we waited for Evan to stop pitching and rolling
and threatening us both with death.
"He got into the silverware drawer"
she said, still panting
"while I was downstairs with the laundry."
I looked around.
The house was trashed.
Pictures were off walls
smashed to the floor
an end table and lamp had been overturned
a long strip of wallpaper hung from the kitchen wall
the garbage can was overturned
spreading coffee grounds and cheerios and onion peels
and poor Madge looked ready to faint.
Evan finally drifted off to sleep
and we drifted into the kitchen.
"I can't keep him any longer," Madge said
lowering herself into a chair.
"As soon as I get my breath back
I'm going to call Social Services to come get him."
Then she burst out crying.
"He's only four!
I can't believe I am giving up on a four-year-old!"
She laid her head on her arms
and I rubbed her back
and got the tissue box off the top of the fridge.
I didn't know what to say to comfort her.
Later, after we had picked up the house
setting pictures aside that needed new frames or glass
getting all the knives into the dishwasher
mopping the kitchen floor
taping up the torn wallpaper
Madge told me Evan's story.
His mother had given birth to him
when she was only fourteen.
She wanted to keep him
and her parents did their best to support both of them
but he was a baby who cried all the time
and would not be comforted.
So after a while the stressed-out
and worn-out
family put him up for adoption.
Because of his angelic face
gorgeous shiny black hair
huge brown eyes
a childless couple was thrilled to get him.
But before all the legalities could be finished
and he could be officially adopted
the adoptive couple changed their minds
and gave him back to Social Services
to dispose of him.
Madge thought that there was something wrong with him
that you couldn't pick up on
until you actually had him in your home.
She said that he could be so sweet
and charming
and then all of a sudden
he would be screaming
threatening
kicking
running around tearing the house apart
for no earthly reason.
And of course he had been to doctors
psychiatrists
and he didn't come from a neglectful
or addicted
background
but nobody seemed to know
what was wrong with him.
Autistic?
Schizophrenic?
Pervasive Developmental Disorder?
Madge said he had pills for all of the above
which she had to force down his throat at different times
during each day.
Madge's house was his fifth foster-home.
Nobody, it seemed, could deal with Evan.
While we were chatting, her husband came home
and held her while she sobbed out her day
and told her he was going to call Social Services himself
to save her the pain of it
I left
taking my chicken with me
and saying a prayer for her
and for Evan
as I walked on home.
I knew I could never
ever
deal with a foster child like that one.
Later, Madge told me that Evan was taken away
and she didn't know what happened to him
but she would always feel sick
about that failure.
But now she had a two-month-old girl
and a six-year-old boy
in her care
and they were both thriving.
I was glad to hear that
and to see her happy face.
It does makes you wonder though
what Evan's life will be like.
And if there is such a thing
as a child who is hopeless.
Music Playing: Symphony in G Minor
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