Unsocial (4 page)

“Alright
man, see ya later.”

A
few hours later I walk into court with the kids. Mr. McCullough must have had
some fucked up premonition because he doesn’t have a clue what a hardass this
judge is.  Unfortunately, I do.  He was always the judge when I managed to fuck
up royally in high school.  The best I can hope for is that he doesn’t remember
who I am.

Of-fucking-course,
I can’t get so lucky.  When my name is called, he looks at me with the same
disgust he showed me years ago.  He launches right into trying to discredit me
in every way he can. 
Again, my age.  Do these fuckers not realize how many
people are parents in their 20s? 
He brings up what he supposes my life is
like with women, partying, people I hang out with.  He has no proof that what
he says is pretty much spot on, but fuck if I agree.  I’m not giving him any
ammunition.  When he questions me about my relationship status, I play it off
that I’ve been building my business, and launch into how successful the
business is. The longer this shithead drones on, the closer I get to pissed way
the fuck off.

In
the end,
I’m granted temporary custody instead of the full guardianship we were hoping
to get. My family is assigned a social worker who’s going to be on our asses
for the next goddamn year.  Shit sucks. All I need is some stick-up-the-ass
suit monitoring us constantly.  However it is the judge’s threat as we’re
heading for the door that pisses me off.  “Make one mistake and these children
will go straight into a foster home equipped to raise children properly.”

Fucking
prick.

Brooke

I’m
standing in front of the Department of Children and Family Services.  I’m not
nervous, I’m really vibrating with excitement.  I did my internship here while
I finished my masters in sociology.  Now, I’m an employee.  This is the day
I’ve been waiting for after working myself to death in college.  To say I’m
excited is an understatement.  I’m stoked for this.  I’m pumped.  I’m ready. 

I
know this job isn’t going to be all glamorous.  I was witness to some really
tough cases that came through the office while I was interning.  Some pissed me
off while others broke my heart.  They just made the anticipation of starting
my career here that much more urgent.  I was ready to take on the world and fix
the injustices of people who came through these offices.  Okay, not the world,
but my little world; Kansas City, Kansas. 

I
enter the building and head to Janice’s office.  She looks up from her desk
which is covered in files and papers and grins, “Ah, Brooke.  Welcome to hell,
honey.”

Not
sure what to say here, so a little shakily I answer, “Thank you.”  I wasn’t
going to let that little greeting of hers scare me.  Like I said, take on the
world, I mean; Kansas.  My aspirations can sometimes get the better of me.

Janice
smiles and stands up ready to lead me to my cubicle.  Excitement is coursing
through every vein in my body ready to get started on my cases.  Obviously,
Janice feels the same.  “Okay, so I would love to take it easy on you and ease
you into this, but that’s not the world we live in.  Your first family is going
to be a doozy, so be prepared.  You won’t be just testing the waters with this
one.  It’s jump all in; sink or swim.  I’m hoping with your enthusiasm you’ll
kick this case’s ass.”

She
hands me a file with the name “Monroe” on the tab and motions for me to follow
her.  “I appreciate the vote of confidence, Janice. I’m ready to get started. 
This has been a long time coming with sacrifices and many hours of studying to
get to.”

“Good
to hear.  This is your cubicle.  You know where everything is and who you feel
comfortable asking for help and don’t hesitate to ask for it.  You might have
your fire lit now, but it takes a lot to keep it lit.  It won’t be possible
with every case, Brooke, but I’m going to tell you now to try to maintain a
little bit of detachment or this job will eat you up.  Now, that’s my only
advice to you.  I’ll let you get settled in and acquainted with that file. 
It’s a custody case for now, but the ultimate goal is full guardianship. 
You’ve seen a couple of these when you shadowed Marla out in the field, but
this one is going to be different.  It’s not between parents or grandparents. 
There’s no divorce or unfit parent to contend with.  There are five kids, and
the oldest one who’s 26 is trying to obtain guardianship.  The rest are
minors.  The biggest thing is that their parents died in a car accident two
weeks ago.”  She has actual pity in her voice.

This
is shocking because Janice has been at this job for a long time.  She took me
under her wing when I was interning.  She made sure I got to shadow the best of
the social workers on a lot of different cases so I would have the experience
when it came time for me to get my own cases.  I have a feeling this case is
serious and is going to challenge me in ways I’m not prepared for, but I will
do a good job.  “That’s terrible, Janice.  How old are the minor kids?”

“Like
I said, the oldest is 26.  He has two brothers and two sisters that are 16, 14,
10, and 6.”

“That’s
not so bad is it?  The oldest does have a job doesn’t he?”

“Yeah. 
From what I read, he’s a very successful businessman in Oklahoma.  The judge
has ordered weekly scheduled visits until he sees fit to change to bi-weekly
for an entire year.”

This
has me curious, “That seems kind of excessive to me.  Who’s the judge?”

“Judge
Adamson.”

“Oh,
no.  No wonder it’s excessive.”

“Well,
something about the guy really pissed the judge off.  His being 26 seems to be
the biggest red flag.  But there has to be more for the judge to order this
kind of work.  He’s only two years older than you are, Brooke.  Do you think
guys this age would be good guardians for four minors?”

That
thought was a little scary, but again, there are lots of people in their 20s with
young kids.  Not that I know too many, okay, I don’t know any.  However, that’s
beside the point.  For some reason, this all seems a little off to me.  I think
there’s more to the judge’s decision than just being 26 years old.  I mean, he
is their brother.  It’s always the logical choice to place minors with their
closest relatives. 
Of course, I’m thinking of every textbook case I’ve
read.

“Okay. 
That’s a good point.  Anything else?”  I’m kind of anxious to start reading
this file.

Finally,
she smiles, “I will obviously sprinkle in more clients this week, but this one
is your top priority.  I know you won’t let me down on this.”

I
really like Janice.  She’s blunt and in her own way, she’s pretty encouraging.
Minus
the ‘welcome to hell’ greeting of course.
  I can tell she’s one of the good
ones who truly cares about the children and the families that come in here. 
After she leaves me to it, I open the file to familiarize myself with the
Monroes.  I read every page intently and find myself amazed at the type of
information we can get on people in a custody case.

I
begin my reading with Dylan Christopher Monroe.  Ah, the oldest brother.  He’s
26 with an address in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.  I have a feeling after my year
of home visits he’s going to pack his family up and move them to Oklahoma.  He
is co-owner of
Tricked
, a custom car and motorcycle shop. 
That’s
cool.
  As I read further, I notice that he’s a millionaire.  I look at all
the zeroes on the page.  It’s not something I can comprehend.  My bank account
runs dangerously low right after my half of rent is paid each month.  He’s also
unmarried. He owns a house in Oklahoma. 

Moving
on I begin reading about the four younger Monroe children.  They’re all from
Overland Park.  They don’t live too far from the Kansas City location of our
offices.  I notice the address is in a nice but older neighborhood.  It’s also
obvious his parents weren’t millionaires.  Guess
Dylan
didn’t share the
wealth with his family in Kansas. 
Curious…
 

Before
I get the chance to continue Marla, another veteran of social services, walks into
my new space.  She’s in her early thirties, and I know she’s been married for
three years.  I spent a lot of time with Marla in the field for my internship. 
She seems to enjoy her job but has said on several occasions that it takes a
toll on her family life when she has to stay late for paperwork, to meet new
clients, or late field visits.

Luckily
these aren’t an issue for me.  I’m taking a long break from men to concentrate
on getting started in my career.  And I’m just going to throw in here why; men
suck.  Every damn thing is about them.  Up until about a year ago I had been in
a long three-year relationship, but the whiny piss ant couldn’t take my school
and study schedule, and when I got my internship on top of it all, it pretty
much sealed the deal.

Now
he’s doing whoever the hell he wants, that can be there to kiss his ass.  Don’t
get me wrong, I’m not bitter.  I’m just kind of pissed that I wasted three
years of my precious time on him.  It wasn’t until he dumped me,
which I
admit stung, only because I had never been dumped before
, to realize that I
really never loved him.  About a week after the “scene” I was grateful he was a
wimp because I could finally do what I needed to do without his endless guilt
trips weighing me down, but I digress.

“Hi,
Marla.  Did you forget my welcome plant?”  I’m smiling because Marla has that
kind of crazy sense of humor around the office that can keep things light.

“Brookey,
Brookey, Brookey.  First day in the dog pile.  No more looking in from the
puppy pen.”  She’s grinning and I laugh.

“Yep,
I was just getting started with my first case,” I nod.

She
looks down at the file in my hand.  “Yeah, I heard you got the Monroe case. 
That’s such a shame for those children.  But, I know you and how excited you
are to be a social worker.  Somehow I know this is the right case for you.  You
haven’t been jaded like the rest of us.” 
Finally some encouragement around
here
.

We
both turn our heads when a tall, pretty woman who looks to be around Marla’s
age walks in to join us.  
Damn, these things can get small with three adults
in them. “
Ah, the newbie, Brooke.  Hi, I’m Paige.”

She
seems friendly enough so I smile back, “Yeah, I’m Brooke.  It’s nice to meet
you.  Are you new here as well?”

“Nope,
I’ve been here about six years.  I just took some time off to combine maternity
leave and my honeymoon.”

“That’s
cool.  Congratulations,” I tell her.

“Anyway,
I just wanted to drop in to meet you and welcome you to hell.” 

I
have no clue why everyone keeps saying that.  I know being a social worker
isn’t going to be easy.  I just can’t understand why they refer it to “hell.” 
She says her goodbyes and heads to her own cubicle.  “Am I missing something,
Marla?”

“What
do you mean?”

“Well,
she’s the second person who has “welcomed me to hell” this morning.  I haven’t
even done anything yet.”

She
laughs so I figure it’s an inside joke or a hazing for the new worker, then
confirms my suspicions by adding, “It’s just a joke around here.  You’ll see
you don’t have anything to worry about.  And if you need anything just let me
know.”

“Thanks,
Marla.”  She waves goodbye, and heads the same direction Paige disappeared. 

After
the welcome committee leaves, I have several food stamp cases that require some
paperwork.  Really nothing with these cases is too difficult.  I actually had
helped with these when I was interning.  When the last one leaves I decide to
find some lunch I can eat at my desk with the intention of finishing reading
the Monroe file.  I look at the clock and notice I have about 45 minutes before
my 1:00 appointment. 

Unfortunately,
the break room is really busy so I head back to my desk. I unwrap my sandwich
and reach for the Monroe file.  I only get a couple of lines in before I am hit
with the sexiest smelling men’s cologne to ever hit my olfactory system. 
Damn,
that smell needs to be packaged and sold with vibrators.
  I look up, up, up
at the most gorgeous male specimen to cross my path.  Maybe he’s here to whisk
me away from hell.  At this point, I don’t care that it’s my first day.  I want
this sexy ass man to be my knight…..

“Ms.
Porter?”

My
eyes, brain, and every erogenous body part, plus some, are taking in his tall,
muscular frame.  I swear his muscles have muscles if that’s possible anyway. 
He has broad shoulders with a trim waist.  I know he’s got a six pack, or more,
under that shirt.  Damn, I want to be that shirt. His thighs are thick and
strong, kind of like tree trunks.  It’s quite apparent that he’s no stranger to
a gym or any physical activity for that matter.  His faded jeans and gray
button-up shirt cling to him in ways that leave little to the imagination and
really should be outlawed.

Wait,
did he just say Ms. Porter? 
That’s me. 
Somewhere in my brain, I register this, but when I look at his face, all
thought flees.  I swear I’ve lost control of professionalism, social graces,
brain activity other than what controls lust.

Vaguely
I remember catching sight of ink peeking out from under his shirt sleeves and
on the right side of his neck coming out of his collar, but when I reach his
perfect, fucking face I’m lost.  He’s got a hard jaw with a day’s worth of
manly scruff.  I really like that look.  His nose looks like it’s been broken
at least once.  Mmm, everything is adding up to bad boy.  His hair is thick and
dark brown.  It’s cut short on the sides and longer on top.  I can tell there’s
plenty grab a hold of while we’re…..
shut it down, Brooke.
  It’s his
eyes, though, that grab my interest.  They are so deep and dark that I swear I
can see into his soul, and he’s looking at me like he…..  Oh, shit.  He’s
looking at me like he’s waiting for me to say something.

I’ve
been caught staring at this man like a total moron.
Please don’t let me be
drooling.
  It’s bad enough that he’s caught me trying to decide where I
want to start looking first, I really don’t want him to see over-produced
saliva dripping from my chin.

“Ms.
Porter?”  Uh, oh.  He sounds impatient.  I look over his shoulder and catch
sight of Marla and Paige who are getting the full effect of his backside.  And I
have no doubt by the looks on their faces that it’s equally as good as the side
I’m getting acquainted with.  And again, “Are you Ms. Porter?”

I’m
still sitting in my desk chair deciding how to answer his question, but his
lips have me distracted.  They are simply mesmerizing.  Maybe I’m really
horny.  I tear my eyes away and look back to Marla and Paige who are still
standing there with tongues hanging out.  Yes, two happily married women.  I
note that Marla mouths, “Holy shit” at me right before, “If everyone is
finished staring at me, I’m here to see a Ms. Porter.  Is that you or not?  I’m
looking for my family’s case worker.”