The Twilight Tsunami: 2nd Edition

By Shelby Londyn-Heath

 

How can a social worker cope, who goes to work one day, and after eleven years on the job, finds himself overwhelmed by a mother who fights to keep her newborn? A highly experienced social worker, Grey, arrives at the maternity ward to take away an infant withdrawing from cocaine due to its mother's addiction. Grey does not expect the mother to fight for her baby, nor the nurses and doctors to disapprove of what he is doing. What happens next unravels his life as he fights to keep his sanity and his job. At the same time, another employee sets out to destroy his position at work by doing the worst thing to him that could ever happen to a social worker.  When he finally meets his enemy co-worker face-to-face, he discovers a broken place in himself he must triumph over. Through his self-discovery, he finds hidden gems of life that surround everyone if they only dare take a risk.

• Language: English
• Publisher: SLH Productions Publishing Press
• Release date: Mar 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386736387

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

GREY’S JAW WAS TAUT and his temples pounded as he stood next to the hospital bed. Mrs. Jasper, your baby has tested positive for cocaine. Grey knew from experience that talking in a low voice held back the negative emotions of a child’s removal before anger and defiance from parents swept around him like a dangerous tempest.

Mrs. Jasper, a nineteen-year-old woman recently out of high school, glared at Grey. Her eyes grew larger in her upturned face framed by tangled, matted purple hair. She wore a nose ring that swept to one side of her flared nostril and vibrated with each panicked inhalation.

I repeat, Mrs. Jasper, your baby has tested positive. I am from the Department of Social Services. I am here to take your baby to a safe environment.

Mrs. Jasper bolted upright in her bed. She grabbed onto Grey with a gritty desperation to stop him from taking her baby. My baby ain’t on cocaine. How dare you say my baby is on drugs? I didn’t give drugs to my baby. You cannot take my baby girl. We are waiting for her daddy to come see her because we are going to name her today. I need my baby to stay with me. Like I told you, we’re waiting for her daddy to come see her.

The daddy, a twenty-one-year-old unemployed construction worker, who married his wife when she tested positive for pregnancy, was prowling the streets looking for cocaine after a three-day drinking binge.

Grey unclasped the mother’s hands and moved towards the door. Mrs. Jasper pulled out her intravenous tube and sprang out of bed. Blood spurted out of her arm as she bellowed.

Grey called in a police officer who waited in the corridor. The police officer’s presence did not deter the fiery mother from running around her hospital room in frantic leaps. The sickening odor of fresh blood permeated the room.

Her hospital gown flew open, displaying the naked form of a young woman new to adulthood. Her tattoos, splayed across her torso, looked like colorful orbs of splattered paints, graffiti statements embroidered in flesh.

Grey felt his stomach grip in painful spasms. He thought of his daughter, Olivia, also nineteen, an age of innocence, a time for dreaming, to be a youthful arrow pointed at the stars.

As Grey watched Mrs. Jasper lurch side-to-side in frenzied movements, he wondered how she came to this moment, losing her baby, strung out on drugs, with a bleak future rising before her.

Nurses ran in as the police officer restrained her. Her stitches. Watch for her stitches, one of them shouted.

I don’t care about my stitches. I wish I could die. This man wants to take my baby away. I just had hours of pain to make my baby. You didn’t have that pain—you didn’t go through what I went through—you didn’t make her. You have no right to take my daughter from me. How dare you? The young woman screamed between loud, ricocheting sobs. Her hands shook and her face turned a sickening pale.

A nurse yelled, Mrs. Jasper, get in bed right now. Nurse Anne, come here please and help me lift her into bed and get her to stop moving around. She has stitches that will tear if they haven’t already. There, there, Mrs. Jasper, we’ll have something for you right away. The nurse patted the sheets down with trembling hands.

Mrs. Jasper kicked in a frenzied rage as the officer restrained her. Two nurses and an aide helped pull her onto the hospital bed. Mrs. Jasper screamed when the officer gripped her arms and hands. Another nurse came in and gave her a shot. Mrs. Jasper looked out at a haze of pastel blue surrounding her as she shook uncontrollably, emitting a strange growling sound before her sedative took effect.

The head nurse turned to Grey. Tell me, if you know you’re going to remove babies, why don’t you come to the hospital and catch them yourself when the mothers give birth? I don’t understand this. Why do you come here when this mother and baby are bonding─when the mother needs peace and quiet─so she can recover from her birthing ordeal? Now this mother is upset, and she is at medical risk.

The nurse’s stern voice cut through Grey as he struggled to remain calm. It is our procedure to remove newborns when we get a call from a hospital doctor that they tested positive for dangerous drugs.

Can’t you offer the mother rehabilitation before you yank her baby away from her? Don’t you think losing her baby will cause her to do more drugs?

Grey cleared his throat before he spoke. Most mothers comply with services and get their babies back. It is unusual for a mother to act the way this mother did. Grey shifted from one foot to another as he looked towards the nursery.

Give her a chance to heal now that she has a baby. Are you telling me you’d rather take this baby to strangers than let the baby stay with its mother? The nurse’s face looked strained from all-night baby deliveries and haphazard nursing schedules.

I’m sorry. It would be better to get this baby to safety as quickly as possible. Your hospital is not equipped for the baby’s drug withdrawal.

Grey turned away and the tight-faced nurse followed him to the nursery. Grey met paramedics there, and accompanied by a somber waxen-faced police officer, they wheeled the incubator past angry nurses and doctors. Grey’s entourage continued downstairs to the waiting ambulance. After they loaded the incubator, the ambulance pulled away with blaring sirens as paramedics rushed the newborn to a neonatal intensive care unit. When the ambulance hit a bump, the baby went into seizures.

After the baby left, Grey’s heart raced and he fought to catch his breath. He ran back into the hospital. He burst into the bathroom, holding onto himself after he locked the bathroom stall He rubbed his salt-and-pepper hair and his shaky arms to comfort himself. Sweat poured off him in cold waves and his head spun. He emptied his insides out, and then it was over as quickly as it had begun. His stomach cramps eased as he limped to the sink and splashed cold water on his face. In the mirror, he saw his face staring back at him, a horror-mask drained of color.

Grey took the next three days off from work. He stayed home smoking pot and watching television. When Grey was high, he fantasized going to the tropics and sailing. He imagined the salt spray on his face and wind blowing through his hair. His fantasy calmed him down. Nothing else settled his nerves, not even his pot.

CHAPTER TWO

MR. AND MRS. JASPER left the hospital parking lot feeling despondent and scared. They longed to hold their newborn baby and show her off to their families. Instead, Mr. Jasper had a hangover, and Mrs. Jasper’s eyes were puffy from crying. She had been full of a baby for nine months. Now she was empty.

The two parents stayed with friends. They snorted cocaine and stayed up drinking and partying for nights on end. One particular night, when they were  strung-out, they made a pact to move to Florida. They needed to find a warm beach to live on because they were running out of money.

As they traveled towards Florida, they camped along the coast, but one night, when they were tired of their clothes full of sand and their hair clumped in tangles, they stopped at a motel. Mrs. Jasper poured a hot steaming bath, and for two hours she soaked. She was like a limp doll when she crawled into bed next to her young, expectant husband. She did not resist his advances. She yearned to feel filled again, to end her bottomless pool of emptiness, her baby gone, gone, gone.

Mr. and Mrs. Jasper snorted their last lines of coke. Their hearts pounded from their good cocaine highs, and they felt strong again. They were on their way to a new life together. In the morning, as they packed their gear, Mr. Jasper pushed back his long dark locks from his face.

Didn’t your doctor say to wait six weeks?

Yeah, he did, but I think it will be okay. I took a bath last night and a hot shower this morning. She smiled at her husband.

How are you feeling, honey? he asked.

In love. In love, silly.

Mr. and Mrs. Jasper still felt high as they headed for the nearest coffee shop for breakfast. The sun sparkled on their car windows, and they felt brand new in an enchanted land. The weather grew warmer as the colorful morning hues brightened in readiness for a sunny, hot Florida afternoon.

But by nightfall, they were irritable and tired. They pulled over on a side road and slept in starts─he in the backseat, she in the front.

Mrs. Jasper shivered throughout the night. When she woke to the morning light and the snorting gear-shifting sounds of large trucks going by, she was too weak to sit up.

Honey? Mrs. Jasper’s voice was barely a whisper.

What is it? Mr. Jasper answered from the backseat as he rubbed his tired eyes.

I don’t feel well.

Mr. Jasper leaned over the seat and looked at her. Her creamy complexion looked like it was on fire. When he felt her head, he knew she was in trouble. Mr. Jasper got in the front seat and gently pulled his wife into a sitting position.

We’ve got to find a campsite. Mrs. Jasper did not reply. She was shivering too much to talk.

As he started the car, Mr. Jasper was eager to celebrate their new home together. The sight of the palm trees and sunny blue skies invigorated him, and he longed to share this new adventure with his wife. He was ready to transform their loss into fun and new friends. He was ready to find more drugs.

Mr. Jasper saw a sign for a campsite and he pulled in and walked to the office. He paid for three nights. After their stay, they would have to find a private beach to camp at. Mr. Jasper realized he needed to find work quickly, or they would soon be out of food.

Mrs. Jasper slept while he set up camp. He made a bed for her out of both their sleeping bags, and he carried her into the makeshift bed as she continued sleeping. She let out a sigh when he tucked her in. He looked down at her hot, sticky face and her purple hair, darkened by the dampness of sweat. Mr. Jasper wondered if his daughter looked like her.

An unquenchable pain and sorrow rose in him. When he got to the camp cafe, his stomach was tight and he was no longer hungry. He drank coffee instead. He decided to hitchhike and look for work. He needed to make things right for his wife.

His first ride was with a young surfer named Josh. Josh was a twenty-one-year-old local who was ready for action and new friends. He had sun-bleached hair and freckles from surfing every day.

Where are you going?

I’m looking for work.

Work? What’s that? Josh threw back his long blonde hair and laughed.

Yeah man, I’m broke. I've got to find work.

Do you know anything about surfboards?

Not really.

I’ve got a friend who shapes boards. He needs help. He’d probably start you out low ‘til you’re trained. But it’s a cash job.

Sign me up, Mr. Jasper said with a smile. He was realizing anything was possible in this new world of sunshine and friends.

You’re in, man.

Hey, you want to go in on some beer? I have a couple of dollars left.

Right on. I’ll kick in, too. Let’s grab some beers and go meet my friend. He’ll probably have a job for you.

Mr. Jaspers was on his way to a three-day drinking and stoning binge that would leave him stranded in a beach house. When he woke up on the third morning, everyone was gone and he didn’t know where he was. But the surf was up.

CHAPTER THREE

GREY RETURNED TO WORK three days after removing the Jaspers’ newborn baby. His supervisor, Christine, waited for him. Her strict work ethic matched his aggressive social worker style, and they had worked well together over the years.

Christine counted on Grey to handle her unit’s most difficult cases. However, lately she sensed something was wrong. Christine tied her loose wavy hair into a ponytail, and she touched her skin, broken out from the stress of recent cases. Her nerves were incinerators. She had a blistery rash on her abdomen and arms, and lately, her stomach burned after she ate.

Difficulties were mounting in her unit. Overworked staff members were making sloppy removals, and desperate foster parents barraged the department with phone calls. The district supervisor was busy scrutinizing cases, leading to ongoing discipline and lowered worker morale.

Christine sensed a noose hanging over her. The district supervisor sent her a steady deluge of threatening memos that lay in piles on her desk. She also sniffed danger from another direction. There was a tight-lipped, platinum-haired, wanna-be-bombshell woman in her department—a social worker named Marjorie, a worker whom Christine did not trust. Christine sensed ruthless competitiveness in Marjorie. This kind of worker was dangerous in a profession requiring teamwork in do-or-die situations.

Christine paced as she waited for Grey. Christine was now in an untenable position. Grey was a model worker who until this day had never required correction.

Christine tugged on her dark blazer and adjusted her stockings. She walked out of her office and looked at the sign-out blackboard in the reception area. Grey’s name was not on the board, yet he was not in his office. She could not shake the creeping discomfort rising from the acidy walls of her stomach.

Grey sat in the bathroom at work. As his heart pounded and he grew light-headed, Grey pulled a paper bag out of his pocket and took deep breaths from it. He broke into a sweat as  nausea rose in painful spasms.

After Grey’s heart stopped racing, he walked outside and sat in his car. A terrifying sense of doom tore through him. He ran back into the bathroom and hugged the cold porcelain toilet bowl as he vomited his breakfast.

When Grey calmed down, he looked at his watch and realized he had missed his meeting with Christine. He slowly washed his face before he walked back into his work unit. When he entered Christine’s office, she glared at him before she said, You are late, Grey.

So what, Christine? I just tore a newborn baby away from her mother, and you dare to tell me I can’t take a break? Why don’t you go to hell? Grey bolted out of Christine’s office, slamming the door behind him.

Christine stared at a windowless wall before she got up and opened her door. She watched Grey walk down the hall towards his office. His back was stiff like a pointed-hunting rifle, and he veered side-to-side on unsteady feet. He stopped and bent over as he clutched his chest. She watched him struggle to steady himself.

Christine hurried outside to her car. She lit a cigarette and smoked it down to the nicotine-drenched filter. She lit another one. She decided to take Grey off this newborn case and give it to another worker. She knew she needed to act quickly.

Christine looked at herself in the car mirror. Her dark hair revealed streaks of gray. Her face looked wrung out like bread dough left on a hot windowsill, dried and spotted in the sun. She longed to walk away from the overwhelming stress, away from her job, her mortgage, her car payments, and her constant worry. But she was the single mother of a college-bound daughter, and she was not going anywhere except to work.

Christine remembered her college years, an exciting time when she burned with a passionate desire to help others. She had met Brent, a medical student, in her freshman science class. He was handsome, smart, well-spoken, and hardworking—everything she knew were good qualities in a husband. After they got married, Christine and Brent studied hard together, turning down invitations to music concerts and parties, choosing instead, to sacrifice fun for their future dreams.

Christine was proud of Brent when he made it into the medical residency program. But when he took drugs to stay awake through the long, difficult, and unpredictable hours of residency, Brent changed. Instead of remaining his usual easy-going self, he became short-tempered and violent.

Christine left him, but not before he broke her nose and jawbone. When she realized her life was in danger, she moved to another state with their one-year-old daughter. She never saw Brent again.

Christine thought about Brent, and she decided she would stop Grey’s downfall as she could not do for her husband. She planned to suspend Grey from work, force him to undergo a psychiatric evaluation, and refer him to an in-house anger management program. He would have to complete her mandates before she would allow him to return to work. Only one thing was in the way of her plan; she needed the district supervisor to sign off on it.

Christine told her secretary to cancel meetings for the rest of the day, and she drove to her supervisor’s office. He was in charge of six other units in her district, and he was a no-nonsense person. When she arrived, he was in a foul mood. He wanted to terminate Grey immediately.

Christine cleared her throat. Grey’s worked in our unit for eleven years. Until now, he’s been an outstanding worker. Shouldn’t we try to help him?

I have complaints about this guy on my desk, Christine. I am dealing with grievances filed by other workers. This Grey person is nothing but trouble for me. I don’t have time for his baloney. As it is, I had to cancel important business to meet with you today.

Christine squirmed from itchiness under her tight polyester blouse. She struggled to stay calm, but her feet twitched nervously under her chair, and perspiration poured down her arms. She looked at her supervisor, noting his reddening face and tightening jowls as he glowered at her.

Tell you what, Christine said in a breezy tone, "let’s suspend Grey for two weeks without pay. If he agrees to a psychiatric evaluation and anger management, we