Page 1 of Fever: Love In Scrubs
WYNTER: AGE FIFTEEN
Isat at my desk, looking over my notes for the history test I had tomorrow. The sound of the doorbell ringing broke my concentration. I would have ignored it, but the visitor started knocking and it was clear that my father wasn’t going to answer. With a heavy sigh, I dropped my pencil, stood from the desk, and strolled over to my bedroom window.
Peering out, I saw an unfamiliar car parked along the street with the logo for DCFS printed on it. A tall blonde woman stood next to the car talking to our nosey Karen of a neighbor from across the street. She’d moved in a couple of months ago and our house seemed to be a target for her.
She complained about the yard.
She complained about the trash can being beside the road too long.
She complained about the amount of trash being taken out.
One day she came over banging on the door complaining about a smell. When my father opened it, she stormed inside yelling and got the shock of her life. She threatened to call the police and DCFS if my father didn’t clean up the house.
I’d tried.
I’d been trying to get him to let go of things. We’d called an organizer to help us, and Daddy still wouldn’t budge on removing half the things. When we started taking things out, he became extremely overwhelmed and yelled at everybody to get out.
That was a few weeks ago and now here we were.
I sprinted from my room, almost tripping over the mass of clutter in the hallway and made my way downstairs as fast as I could.
“Daddy!” I called. “Daddy!”
I found him in the living room, eyes fixated on the wedding tape of him and my mother. Whenever he got like this, it was hard for him to focus on anything else. I grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. Only then did he blink and look up at me.
“Why did you do that?” he asked.
“Daddy, you didn’t hear the doorbell?”
“No… I guess I was somewhere else.” He struggled to pull himself up from the old, tattered recliner that had seen better days. I reached out a hand to assist him.
“Thank you, baby girl.”
“Daddy,” I said, gripping his hand. “It’s DCFS at the door. She called them.”
He looked at me, eyes full of sadness and regret.
“I’m sorry, Wynter.”
“You can’t let them take me from you.”
He looked around the house as the doorbell rang again. The Karen bitch yelled from the other side.
“I know you’re in there, Mr. Driscoll. Think of your child for once!”
“It’s out of my hands.”
“Daddy, please!” I begged.
Tears streamed down my face as he went to open the door. Karen and the blonde woman stood on the other side. The DCFS worker offered him a warm smile.
“Are you Frost Driscoll?”
Daddy nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“My name is Jessica Frank. I’m with the Department of Children and Family Services. We received a very serious call about a possible case of child neglect. Do you mind if I come in?”
My father sighed and stepped aside. Jessica stepped in, and when Karen tried to follow, I walked over and slammed the door in her face.
