(6 of 26)
"Mallory came to us because of Michael's wild behavior in school, but that's only part of the problem, as you can see. Mallory wants to hold on to Michael. Fine. In his way, he really loves Michael. But if Michael stays with his so- called family, he may be a lot worse off. I've discussed this openly with Mallory, who, naturally, doesn't like it. The case is a mess."
The car parks at the center, a plain, deceptively large building that backs on St. Michael's Church, with its odd, elongated acorn spires. Geraldine and Mary Paul attend 8:30 Mass every morning, but they have no time for other formal daily prayers. There is no religious cast whatever to the center. On the ground floor are a reception room and Geraldine's office. On the upper floors, staff offices, consultation rooms, a large "family room" used for parties and group sessions. The top floor constitutes the convent for the two nuns. This is their place of privacy.
Geraldine bustles into the center and is greeted by Zaida, a soft-spoken receptionist and a longtime resident of Sunset Park. There are many phone calls to return. Sister Mary Paul has gone to a budget hearing in the city. A Puerto Rican family of four sits on a bench, looking friendly and anxious. Geraldine leafs through her messages, then looks up suddenly. "Zaida! Wait till you see the new awning."
III MARIA
I used to fight a lot, I don't know why. This girl that I hated, she hated me too, and I tried not to fight her, but then, you know, you start thinking about the person, even at night. She's always on your mind. You practice in your house. So I planned on a Monday, you know, to fight. But it didn't work out. So Tuesday I went. I had on my red Jordache. In those days it was in style. Not anymore. You like this jacket? And my sneakers and a red sweatshirt. And I saw her. Everything I had to say I told her the day before in an argument, so I ran out of words. I told my friend to tell the girl that I wanted to fight her, because I don't like her and she don't, doesn't, like me. Right? Then the girl, she pushed me. She hit me first. She called me a bitch. We started. I kept telling myself, Fight like an animal, like an animal, and don't stop, don't stop.
She bit my finger. I had her like this, you know, my arm around her head, and my hand was in her face, scratching her. I wanted to hurt her bad. The night before, I polished my fingernails to make them hard. Her father charged me with assault. That's stupid. But I got in trouble in school, in court, and my mother, you know, she cried when the cops came. Mothers get so nervous. But that's stupid. They wouldn't lock me up. I was 14.
That tape recorder. The light goes red when I speak. Right?
I knew something was wrong with me, you know? Me and my friend, my friend and I, started joking around. We saw a cop and we stopped in front of him, and I said, "I'm depressed," and we all started laughing. But I was really depressed. Then I went up to a lady, and I said again, "I'm depressed." And she goes, "Oh, honey. I'm depressed too. That's life." I started saying I'm depressed for a joke, but it was real. Then my friend told me, "You're crazy. You've got to talk to a psychiatrist. She told me about the center, so I came to Mary Paul and Geraldine. I was getting scared of myself. My boyfriend gave me a knife. I still have it, in a purple bag.