Thou shalt never

“Thou shalt never throw away anything even remotely edible lest thou be caught in the midst of the Revolution without any creamed corn to sustain thyself." – Immigrant family adage

A woman entered ushering two children. She was well-dressed, hair pulled back neatly. A broad pony tail hung behind her head and shoulders.
At the counter, she was directed through a locked door with a short buzz that ended in a click. She ushered the two children through the door, holding the heavy door with one hand.
A boy and a girl looked around the station nervous and wide-eyed. It wasn’t hard to see they were twins. Both fresh-scrubbed and neat, they could have been reflections in a mirror with the clothes painted over the same face and hands.
A couple of coppers at the desks looked up. A few knowing looks: one copper looked disconsolate; a man and woman looked up, then exchanged gazes; then all returned to their paperwork or phones.
At the end of the hall, a man sat. He looked up, then stared at the two children. He started to rise.

A psychologist stepped from her office. The man looked up and she said crisply, “Wait here. I’ll talk to the mother first.”
She turned and approached the mother, a broad welcoming smile opened her face. She gestured the mother discretely across the hall. The mother placed the twins on a wooden bench, told them both to be good, then went to the psychologist.
She stared down the hall at the father as she crossed the hall.
Mother and psychologist talked low near a wall. Eyes dropped, smiles, a few glances down the hall then over at the children; and the mother returned to sit with the twins.

Returning to the father, the psychologist put a hand on his shoulder and turned him to a large window. “This isn’t the ideal setting, but it will have to do.” She said. “As you can see the room is set up with a play table, some children’s books, and toys.”
The father rose and looked in, obviously tense. The sparse room was painted dull yellow with nothing on the walls. In the centre of the room was a low, lacquered wooden table. On the table were a few new children’s books and a toy pony.

In a low voice she said, “I’m Ms Rowland. I’ll watch the mother first to see how the children react because she is the parent the children are most used to.” The father nodded. He hadn’t seen his twins, now 5, in nearly two years.
“After about 15-20 minutes, I’ll ask you to go in and play with the children.” She explained. “There should be nothing threatening about this testing. It’s intended to allow me to observe your relationship with your children and how they react to you.”
He nodded. His eyes betrayed the thoughts racing through his mind. His mouth opened to say something and she told him: “Wait in the side room there,” directing his look with hers, “I need to see both of you alone with the children. – Do you understand?”
He nodded. Taking in a breath, he moved obediently to enter the side room.
It wasn’t much of a room. The room was more a hall that had been built by putting a wall in a room. There was a chair and a couch, with only a lamp for lighting.

He told himself that he could do this. It was important to him and his twins. He wondered if his former wife was having the same thoughts, then remembered she was wearing her grandmother’s broach, and his eyes closed in sadness. “Yes, she was thinking the same thing. She always wore that broach to give her strength.”
The minutes passed. He sat numbly, then began to examine the room.

The minutes passed. Ms Rowland opened the door. “Alright, I need to see you with the children now.” He rose, suddenly aware of how small she was, or maybe how large he was.
He was not a large man, but tall. --‘5-11, medium build, brown hair, blue eyes’ the police report had said. – He had always felt too thin. She on the other hand hardly filled her grey suit. Her small wrists wrapped in veins.
He walked stiffly behind her out to the hall, hardly hearing what she was saying, “Just go in and act naturally. Talk to the children, but don’t be too affectionate, “ she instructed. “Because of the allegations against you, I can’t allow you to touch them. – Do you understand?”
He acknowledged her words with a jerky nod.
Steeling himself with a breath, he entered the room, acutely aware of the two-way mirror behind him.

He entered.
The twins were at the table playing at reading one of the books. First one then the other looked up. He froze, then forced himself forward. Their expressions were curious. The little girl moved away from him towards her brother.
The father moved to sit on the bench across from them, telling himself he shouldn’t sit next to them with the eyes of the psychologist burning into his back.
He started to speak, then looked into the eyes of his twin children. They looked confused. They were both staring, wide-eyed at him, frightened. The thought roared through his head like thunder: “They … don’t recognize me!”, over and over in his mind.
He almost choked on a Hello, then looked back at the gaping maw of the mirror.
He rose, smiled at his children, and walked from the room, “You two stay there and play.”
He didn’t stop. He walked past first Ms Rowland, then his former wife, and out the sealed door leading to the foyer. His head bowed as he exited the police station.