Chapter 6
Robert was arrested the following morning.
Detective Brooks called while Maya and I sat at Tasha’s kitchen table. She told me he had been brought in and that there would be a hearing. She did not promise what would happen next. She explained who would contact us and urged me to keep reporting any attempt to reach Maya.
After I hung up, Maya waited for me to speak.
“Robert is in custody,” I said. “He can’t come here today.”
She gripped her mug. “Will they let him out?”
“There’s a hearing. We’ll find out what the rules are, and I’ll tell you.”
“I want to know before he does.”
“You will.”
Tasha moved closer to her. “You can ask us every time the plan changes.”
Maya nodded. I saw her shoulders lower a little.
That afternoon, I met with an advocate who helped us understand the protective order process and what to expect as the case moved forward. I filled out forms with a shaking hand. When I reached the question asking when I had first noticed Maya seemed afraid of Robert, I sat staring at the blank space.
I could remember moments from months earlier.
A night Maya stayed at the table until he went upstairs.
A school morning when she asked me to drive her instead of letting him.
The bruise she said came from soccer.
I wrote down what I knew. Then I went to my car and cried.
Tasha called to check on me. I told her I was still outside the office.
“Come home,” she said. “Maya and I are making dinner. She asked me to save you some bread.”
I wiped my face and drove back.
Maya was kneading dough when I entered the kitchen. There was flour on her cheek. She looked up.
“Did you finish?”
“Yes.”
“Was it hard?”
“Yes.”
She slid a small piece of dough across the counter to me. “You can help.”
We made uneven rolls together. I told her the hearing would be the next day and that an advocate would call us afterward. I did not tell her everything would be fine. She watched my face and seemed relieved that I wasn’t pretending to know.
The hearing brought some relief. Robert was ordered to have no contact with Maya while the case continued. I could not yet stop looking at the street, but now I had a number to call and a clear rule to report if he ignored it.
Maya asked for the order to be kept in the folder beside her bed.
“So I can see it?” I asked.
“So I know where it is.”
We put it there.
Meanwhile, the school district began reviewing Mr. Keene’s response to Maya. A district administrator called me. She said she was sorry Maya had not received the help she needed. I asked what they were doing to keep another student from being sent away when they said home did not feel safe.
“I want an answer I can give Maya,” I said.
The administrator agreed to meet with us after Maya was well enough. I wrote down her name and the date. I was learning to ask people to put their plans into words.
That evening, Maya found me reading the meeting notes.
“You don’t have to fight with the school because of me.”
“I’m asking them how they’ll help students who come to them.”
“I didn’t say enough.”
“You said you were afraid to go home. They needed to make time to listen.”
She sat opposite me. “I thought if I told one adult and they sent me back, that meant it wasn’t serious.”
“I’m sorry you were left feeling that way.”
I wanted to say I would make the counselor understand how much his response had cost her. Maya needed to hear that she had been right to ask for help.
A week later, Dr. Lawson saw her for a follow-up visit. Her infection had cleared. She still tired easily, and he told her recovery could take time. He asked about sleep and gave us a referral for a therapist experienced in helping teenagers after frightening experiences.
Maya was quiet on the drive home.
“Do you want to try the therapist?” I asked.
“I think so. I don’t want to tell everything on the first day.”
“You can ask how it works before you decide what to share.”
“Will you come in?”
“If you want me there.”
She looked out the window. “Maybe at first.”
At Tasha’s house, we found Caleb from Maya’s soccer team standing at the gate with his mother. They had brought a card signed by several girls. The team knew only that Maya had been ill.
Maya read the card twice. Then she asked if she could text them herself.
May you like
I handed her my phone. She wrote a short thank-you and said she missed them.
It was the first time I had heard her talk about going back to something she loved.
