“You can answer honestly,” I told her.
She whispered, “Not if Mom is there.”
The nurse did not react dramatically.
She simply entered the answer into the intake record and placed an identification band around Ella’s wrist.
Competence can look almost ordinary.
A calm voice.
A typed sentence.
A chair moved closer so a frightened child does not have to speak across a room.
Caroline arrived while we were still waiting to be taken back.
She had changed from anger to wounded dignity during the drive.
“I’m her mother,” she told the nurse. “This is a family misunderstanding.”
The nurse answered that Ella would be evaluated.
Caroline sat three chairs away and began sending messages.
Ten minutes later, her mother walked into the waiting area.
She said Caroline had called her in hysterics.
