The Weight of Silence

“Calli doesn’t talk. I mean, she spoke for the first time in four years today. She said her brother’s name. It’s all she said, but that’s huge for us. I’m not sure what to expect now, if she’ll talk all the time now or what.”

“Calli’s a selective mute?” he asks. “There’s no physical reason for her not talking?”

“That’s what we’ve been told. I’d almost given up hope in her ever talking again, but she did today. She said her brother’s name.” I feel a renewed sense of excitement and hope in telling Dr. Higby this.

“It is very good news that Calli spoke. I have a very limited experience with selective mutism, Mrs. Clark, but we have a psychiatrist on staff who may be more informed on the subject. Would you like for me to call her and have her visit with you?”

“Calli isn’t crazy,” I tell him, my initial liking of the man fading quickly.

“No, of course not. I didn’t mean to imply that. Dr. Kelsing is a medical doctor with a wide expertise. She could be very helpful.” Dr. Higby waits patiently for me to mull this over.

“You think she’s good?” I ask. “You think she could help Calli?”

“I implicitly trust her judgment, Mrs. Clark,” he responds.

“All right, then, I’d like to meet her,” I say as I notice two police officers come through the emergency room doors.

“I’ll call her immediately and then we’ll get to work on fixing up Calli.” He pats my arm and goes to contact Dr. Kelsing.

The two officers confer with the emergency room receptionist and make their way over to me as I peek in the examination room to check on Calli. She waggles her fingers at me in a halfhearted wave and I smile at her and hold up a finger to tell her that I’ll be right back. I meet the officers back in the hallway. Their faces are familiar to me, and I recognize them as being several years behind me in school.

“Mrs. Clark?” the taller officer asks. I nod. “I’m Officer Bies and this is Officer Thumser. I think you went to school with my sister, Cheryl.”

I nod distractedly. “Did you find my son?” I ask anxiously.

“Yes, Mrs. Clark. He’s on his way now to be checked out here at the hospital.”

“Is he okay?” I ask, my heart thumping.

“It appears he’s fine, Mrs. Clark. He should be here within the next hour or so. We need to talk to your daughter, ma’am.”

“Did you find Petra? Is Petra okay?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t share any information about Petra Gregory at this time. Mrs. Clark, we really need to see your daughter. She is crucial to this investigation.”

At this moment Dr. Higby reappears. “Hello, Mike, Russ. What can I do for you tonight?” he asks.

“We were just explaining to Mrs. Clark that we need to visit with Calli about what happened to her today.”

“We need to make sure that Calli’s condition is stable before anyone speaks with her. You can understand that.”

“Yes, we understand. How long till you think she can talk to us?”

Dr. Higby and I look at each other and I nod to him, giving him permission to share Calli’s situation.

“Calli’s a reluctant speaker. She may not be able to tell you what you want to know. We have a consultant coming in to help us. We are going to need to proceed very slowly with her.”

The officers’ disappointment is apparent, but they are wise enough to say nothing. “Could you give us a call when you feel she’s ready to see us? It really is important. And, Mrs. Clark, we’ll need to visit with your son after he gets checked out. And you, as well.”

“Me?” I ask. “Why me?”

“Just follow-up questions. We finally located Roger Hogan, your husband’s fishing buddy. Mr. Hogan didn’t offer much, but your husband wasn’t with him. Good luck, Mrs. Clark,” the tall officer tells me. “I’m glad your little girl is back safe and sound.”

I freeze for a moment, trying to process that news. Griff isn’t with Roger? Where is he, then? I don’t allow myself to consider what it means. Dr. Higby and I return to Calli’s side. Calli is wide-awake now, trembling from the cold of the room.

“I know it’s cold in here, Calli,” Dr. Higby says. “We’ll get you all fixed up and nice and cozy soon. We’ll tell you exactly what is going to happen before it happens, okay? That way, if you have any questions, you can ask.”

A young nurse enters the room. She has a cheerful smile and wears pink scrubs. “Hi, Calli, my name is Molly. I’m going to be your nurse while you’re here. I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Calli looks quickly to me and snatches at my hand.

“Don’t worry, honey, your mom can stay with you the whole time,” Molly assures her.

Dr. Higby pats me on the back and excuses himself. “Sometimes the patients feel more comfortable if only females are in the room. I’ll check back in with you soon.” He gives me a sympathetic smile and leaves us.

I bend down to kiss her and for the first time that evening I notice the smell of urine on her. My stomach clenches at the thought of what happened today.

“Now, the first thing we need to do is get you out of that nightgown and into this lovely gown.” Molly carefully removes Calli’s pink nightgown and places it in a plastic bag. Calli loves this nightgown; I often find her wearing it in the middle of the day. I think she likes the way that it swirls around her as she moves. When she doesn’t know that I am watching, I see Calli dancing in her pink nightgown to music that only she can hear. She is graceful and delicate and when she dances she reminds me of the dandelion fluff we catch and then release to make wishes. I always make the same wish on her as she leaps and twirls—please speak to me, Calli, please speak. I silently vow to buy Calli the most beautiful nightgown I can find. One that feels like silk next to her skin and flows like water around her as she moves.

“Now, Calli, I’m going to give you an exam. Do you know what an exam is?” Molly asks. Calli gives a slight nod of her head. “Oh, of course you do. How old are you? Sixteen? Seventeen?” Calli smiles, shakes her head and holds up seven fingers.

“Seven?” Molly asks. “I’m shocked. You seem so much older.” Again Calli smiles. I like this Molly right away. “Now, Calli, I’m going to go from the tip-top of your head right down to your little piggy toes and ask you if anything specifically hurts. You just let me know yes or no, okay?” Again Calli nods.

“I can tell you’re going to be a super patient. Okay, let’s get started. First of all, does your hair hurt?” Calli wrinkles her nose and looks at Molly in disbelief. “Well, does it?” she asks again.

Calli shakes her head no.

“Good! That’s good news. How about your head, does anywhere on your head or neck hurt?” Again Calli shakes her head no. I can see Calli is enjoying this game and by the time Molly gets down to Calli’s piggy toes, we have learned that the only places Calli feels any pain are in her stomach and in her feet.

Molly quietly explains that she would have to collect evidence from Calli. When she says the words rape kit my stomach lurches.

“Is that necessary?” I ask numbly.

“We need to rule out any assault that may have occurred and we need to gather any evidence that may have been left behind. I’ll be very gentle. And you can stay here with her,” Molly assures me as she pulls on a pair of latex gloves.

Molly takes a long oversize Q-tip and asks Calli to open her mouth. She swiftly swabs Calli’s cheeks and horrific thoughts charge through my mind. I try to push them away. Methodically, carefully, Molly moves down along my daughter’s body, combing, scraping and collecting the grime and dreadfulness of the day. I force myself to watch, to watch what my inattentiveness has caused. I force myself to watch now because I have not watched my child closely enough; she has spent the day in the forest running, running from something terrible. Did he catch her or was she fast enough? Please have been fast enough, I silently recite over and over. When the exam is finally complete I have read every furrow in my daughter’s face, the confusion and the unasked questions. I have no words for Calli. I cannot think of one useful, comforting word for my daughter during this intrusion and we are both silent.

“I don’t see any obvious indication of sexual assault, but we’ll send the swabs to the lab.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Maybe it will be okay. Molly continues, “They’ll let us know for sure. Her feet are cut up pretty badly. After we take X-rays, we’ll clean them and wrap them up tight,” she explains to me. To Calli she says,