Chocolate Innocence

    Anxious tremors rack her body as she rocks excitedly back and forth on her thin heels. “I go home, I go home.” The croaky voice emits from her throat like a little kitten. Those innocent eyes peer up at me from under the table as I gently coax her out.

“Mommy gotta get better, your going to stay with me for little while, okay?” Smiling reassuringly, I wait quietly for her reaction.

“I gotta see Mommy, mommy be scared, I be scared,” the little kitten like child whispered, wiggling her fingers as she rocked.

“Chocolate, I like chocolate,” she licked her lips as if imagining it. I caught on quickly, “You like chocolate? I have chocolate.” Those intent blue eyes never leave the wall, “I love chocolate, you have chocolate? Okay, I like chocolate, mommy likes chocolate. Chocolate good.” Quickly, she crawls out on chubby hands and knees.

“I like chocolate,” she says, standing shyly by the fridge. I’m already in the cupboard, searching for the Hershey bars I store just for times like this. The clock in the other room chimes twelve times and I turn to her.

“No, no, its just a clock,” I reassured, holding her close to me.

“Big clock, chocolate, I like chocolate.” Gathering her chubby frame into my arms, I bring her to the brightly decorated high chair.

“Umm, Mrs. Caron?” The lady looked at me with tired eyes.

“Oh right,” I laugh quietly, handing the curly haired kitten a candy bar. “I like chocolate,” she grabs for the shiny wrapper. “Don’t make a mess,” I warn gently, crossing the kitchen floor.

 “Here’s her diaper bag, we couldn’t get much else during the arrest. The county will be by there tomorrow to pick up more clothes and diapers.” The social worker instructed.

I nod politely, keeping an eye on the mess the little girl was in the middle of master piecing.

“Thank you, sorry this was so last minute, we didn’t know who else to call,” the social worker offers an apology as she leaves. I walk her and the driver to the door. “No, don’t worry about her. What’s her name by the way?”

“Sarah, but that’s all we know. The child looks about three or four but there is no way to be sure at this point.” I nod again, my hand on the door. We exchange goodbyes and the exhausted workers head off to their cars for the night. I could see the invisible load of the sad night weighing down on their shoulders. Drug cases were seldom easy, the condition the children are found in usually is shocking. This one was no different.

“Oh no, Sarah,” I sigh, I had already known it was going to happen.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry,” Sarah’s stubby fingers wiggled as fast as her mouth pronounced the well rehearsed word. The rocking begins again as I quietly clean up her mess.

“Sorry, sorry, I like chocolate, chocolate good, messy good.” The washcloth sops up the melted chocolate from all surfaces within her reach.

“Come on, Kitten,” I smile, the name fit, her kitten eyes again were looking at me. Lifting her out, I am startled when I am unable to put her down.

“Let go, Sarah.” The fake crying begins as she tucks her small face further into the folds of my nightgown. I grab my coffee cup from the counter and switch off the main lights. Together we pad into the living room, her light crying gaining my sympathy.

“Alright, we can watch some tv,” the couch holds the two of us as she clings tight when I sit. “Let’s see what’s on,”

 Dora’s face appears on the television screen and the little eyes are captured. Purposely, I turn the volume down. I want her to sleep, it has been a long and traumatizing night for such an impressionable mind. Rubbing her back soothingly, I try to make her feel safe enough to sleep. The dirty lace rubs against my palm as I rub in circles. Her too small diaper barely covered her, and in my opinion, potty training was in order. No shoes warmed her feet, thought the thermometer read well below twenty degrees.  The blanket she had been wrapped in lay idly next to me. I attempt to wrap her in it when I think sleep is starting to overcome her. Chocolate covered fingers reach out and pull the pooh cloth closer to her chin.

“What are you doing, kitten?”

“I not go sleep,” she croaked, the small lip pouting slightly.

“Are you a good girl?” I attempt at conversation, thought I know not much will come back.

“I bad girl, bad girl, mommy hit,” she pauses and makes emphatic hitting motions at her head. I tuck her hands back in the blanket.

“Sarah’s not a bad girl, Sarah is a beautiful girl.”

“Bootafil,” she says the word as if testing its vowels on her tongue. “Bootiful,” her tone expresses confliction emotions as she assesses what I mean. “Yes, I bery bootafil,” she declares, popping out her chest and spreading her arms wide. I giggle and she makes a face, “I not go sleep,” she lays back down on my chest, tucking her hands and feet under her.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star,” I begin softly. “Only Sarah knows who you are,” I feel her relax. “Up above the world so high, so beautiful in the sky,” her eyes gently close.

“twinkle, twinkle, little kitten, no more chocolate for your mittens,” I end it silly because I am out of things to rhythm and fit the beat. I switch the TV off, allowing the darkness to enclose us. The hall light illuminates her face, and I draw back the hair from her mouth. Her chest rises and falls with each wheezy breath.

“Asthma,” I mutter softly. I sigh as the clock nearby ticks, each second adding to my sleepiness. Sliding down on the comfy couch, my head lays against the pillow. One handed, I clumsily throw a blanket over myself. Settling my sore back against the cushions, I allow the day to fade in my mind. I can feel her closeness, the backgrounds between us diminishing as sleep grows steadily over me. I know her mom must care, for she couldn’t not regret losing something as precious as this. But all that there is on this scary night is me and a broken little girl, and I love her. Our breathing falls into synch and her small body rises and falls with my chest, rocking her gently. Chocolate stains my nightgown underneath her little fingers and messy cheeks. To me, she’s a beautiful example of innocence.