Purple Lottery

Purple drops, splattered over the sky-blue cloud filled wall, were dripping down to drench the kid in a pool of hate. This child was cared for deeply and now that was at a standstill. Several different pathways and they all led to orphan. A simple pizza delivery had escalated exponentially. I adjusted my focus towards the delivery guy. The name tag on his shirt read “Tyler” in a bold yet faded engraving.

Until I had arrived, Tyler was treated like a criminal. Little bits of stubble pointed out of his chin and a slight wheezing delivered through his perched lips. “My name is Leslie; I am with social services.” I introduced myself with no delay. “What can you tell me about the kid?” Tyler stayed still for a few seconds before tilting his head up and responding, “I don’t know much about the kid. I think she once mentioned that his name was Brandon.” He then took a quick puff of an inhaler and continued.

I stuffed my left hand into my coat’s inside pocket and yanked out a small black notebook. Attached was a telescopic blue inked pen. I flipped quickly through the pages until I reached a blank sheet. Sliding out the pen to its full form made a bit of a squeak, as if it needed oil. I had used this pen on multiple occasions for several years and I am always surprised it has yet to run out of ink. I jotted down a couple of details, the first being the name Brandon with a question mark at the end as he did not seem too certain of this fact.

A couple of cops snuck up behind me. “We need you to come downtown to fill out a statement.” the cop on the left aimed towards Tyler. As he walked away with them, he loudly whispered to me, “Thank you for treating me like a human.” I took one last glimpse at the purple splatter on the wall and discovered its origin from a paintbrush barely level on top of a freshly painted purple shelf above. It was enough for me to develop a hate for all things purple. I stuffed the small black notebook and telescopic pen back into my coat pocket.

I arrived back at the office; my phone started buzzing. I did not feel like talking, so I tapped ignore. I then realized that it was after seven at night. I flopped onto my ancient desk chair and read a copy of the statement from Tyler. “We have been dating for five years. I had no idea she was married. We spent quality time together on multiple occasions at her place. When the delivery order came in, I figured we could have a quick visit before I headed back to work. Her husband, of whom I knew nothing about, was furious. He pulled out a handgun and…” I could not read anymore. This case was already depressing enough. I was not intrigued, for I have heard many stories like the one in Tyler’s statement.

I spat out a huge yawn after I realized that rubbing my closed eyelids against my eyes was not going to help with the tiredness. The sooner I started a quick search for Brandon’s nearest living relative; the sooner I could clock off and pass out on my bed. In the blank name field, I typed in “Brandon'' and then I froze. I yanked out my small black notebook and skimmed through my notes. I had forgotten to write down the kid’s last name. I entered the living address instead, in the address field, and one result popped up: Brandon Okriver; 36 months old. Parents now had an unknown status, which was not uncommon considering how recent it had just happened.

I blinked my eyes in an alternating order so that I could keep one eye on the screen. Only one living relative was found. Based on statistics of past cases, that one living relative either had no idea about the kid or was an addict of some sort. The clicking sound was too much for my brain. I would have to examine the results tomorrow. I forwarded the results to myself as to avoid another timely search and then proceeded to drag myself on the short walk home.

As I entered, I remembered I had bedding that was mostly purple. I quickly ripped off my bedding before passing out on my naked memory foam mattress. The next morning, I woke up to the loud beeping of my alarm. I checked my phone, and I had a few texts from my assistant.

“Where are you?”

“I tried to call and remind you last night.”

“You were supposed to be here an hour ago…”

I had completely spaced about my meeting with Betty. She was the grandmother of a six-year-old girl that had been chained up for days in the basement by her mentally ill mother. Betty did not even know she had a grandchild, as her daughter had been estranged for almost a decade. I took a quick sponge bath, threw on fresh clothes and raced out the door.

By the time I got there, Betty was fuming with obvious annoyance. I took a couple of seconds before saying, “Sorry I am late, let's talk details.” Betty and I proceeded to discuss; temporary placement, trial dates, living examinations and so forth. After Betty had left; I did not waste any time before double clicking a few times to view the results of Brandon’s only known living relative.

It read: Sabrina Williams, age 72, residing in a small broken-down shack on the outskirts of town. I now knew that Brandon would end up in the system permanently, being bounced around multiple foster homes. As soon as any Judge heard “shack” they would always rule against the living relative. I still drove out to meet with Brandon’s maternal grandmother and realized that she was not alone.

There was a woman, dressed in scrubs, cooking some soup in the opened kitchen. “Don’t mind my caregiver, you can talk freely.” She relieved my worry. I forced my focus back to Sabrina and the wheelchair that was supporting her. I informed her of the situation, and she started to cry. “I wish I could take him in, but as you can see…” she started, and I finished with “Yeah, a shack is not sufficient enough for a ward of the state, let alone your current condition.” We chatted for a few more moments and then I took my leave.

Since Brandon was new to our system, he was held in the ward wing of the office building. There were plenty of beds and toys for kids of all ages. The wing was added in the late 80’s when the state discovered that many kids were not simply safe with any relative. There were no shortcuts when it came to the construction. The state made certain to add soundproof walls, hoping to avoid any disruptive noises that might make the job even more difficult.

Before I headed back for my desk, I decided to stop by and see how Brandon was doing. There were extra safety measures at the entrance to the wing. Metal detectors and a lite patting to make certain you are not in possession of anything that could harm someone. You were also required to leave all personal items in one of many lockboxes, to which only you had a key.

Passing inspection, I made my way towards Brandon. He seemed as if he could not fully comprehend what was going on. I squatted to my knees and asked if he was having a good time. I assumed he was not ready to speak when he nodded his head. I noticed something else about him. I had a hunch, but I was not going to mention it until I collected more information.

I quickly called up Sabrina and thankfully she picked up almost immediately. She helped confirm my suspicions. Now the only thing left to do was get some pizza. I figured Tyler might have some more answers for me. The Pizza Palace was not far from the office, so I took another quick walk instead of using a company car.

I approached the counter and asked to speak with Tyler. “He started a vacation this morning.” Manager Eli informed me. “Where can I find him?” I asked with a furrowed brow. “I bet he is still at the lotto center, he won $20,000 from a scratch ticket.” Eli continued. I was surprised with intent. I had never met anyone that won that kind of money before.

I ran back to the office and raced a company car to the lotto center. Lucky for me, he was still there. His face formed confusion from seeing me as he asked, “Is everything okay?”. I answered back with a question, “I hear you won big, what do you plan to do with it?” He told me about his dream of becoming a certified caregiver and how he could take the last couple of classes he needed to finish his schooling, now with an overflowing nest egg.

“I need you to testify in a hearing regarding Brandon. It is in about thirty minutes.” I informed him. “Ah! Perfect timing. I just finished up here.” He agreed back. I drove him back to my office and we rushed to the hearing room. “Today is supposed to be my spa day, so please hurry along.” Judge Hendly desperately suggested to me. She was a nice and fair Judge, so I did not take any offense to her priorities. I would need a little vacation myself after the week I have been having.

“I am working on the case of Brandon Okriver; 36-month-old boy that was placed into the state's custody last night.” I started with a reminder. “I see that the maternal grandmother is the only living relative and she currently resides in a broken-down shack on the edge of town…” the Judge led me. “Yes and no.” I finished. Now Judge Hendly was the one with a furrowed brow. “It is true that the maternal grandmother does not have the means or health to take in Brandon, but I discovered another living relative.” Her expression went from questionable to intrigued as I turned my focus to Tyler and motioned him to take the stand.

“Tyler, could you please tell the court what you told me when we first met?” I insisted. Tyler agreed and repeated how he had been dating Brandon’s mom for half of a decade and that he had no idea she was married. I picked up where he left off, “When we first met, I noticed that you were wheezing and inhaled a puff from an inhaler. Do you have asthma?” he nodded. “Where are you going with this?” Judge Hendly questioned. “The cops collected some DNA from Tyler last night as a precaution. I checked with my resources and they confirmed it.” I started smiling and could not stop.

“When I visited Brandon earlier today, I noticed that he had a slight wheeze.” Tyler half smiled as I continued. “Tyler, you are Brandon’s biological father.” His half smile quickly formed into a full smile. “That’s very nice, but I see here that Tyler lives in a studio and works for minimum wage.” Hendly reminded us. “Actually, he just came into some winnings; $20,000 to be exact.” I relayed as Hendly then shared in on our smiling.

I topped off my case with his plans to get a mid-sized house as well as finish schooling. The Judge then smacked her gavel in agreement.

I check in on Brandon every now and then. Tyler was able to buy a bright purple house, big enough so that the grandmother could move in. No spoilers, but the grandmother now has a new caregiver and there is a fantastic reason to love purple again.