Macy knew she would never see her Sissy again.
The six Hummels went out for ice cream to celebrate. Macy had a single scoop of mint chocolate chip.
There is no amount of compassion or common sense that canât be extinguished by government bureaucracy.
MARK SMARTâS DIARY
It had been more than five years since Macy had talked to anyone from the state. The last caseworker she had seen had retired two years earlier, and the woman at the DCFS office referred her to the woman who had taken most of her cases, a middle-aged woman named Andrea Bellamy.
Macy had dressed up for the meeting. She wore an outfit she had borrowed from her roommate, a matching pink silk skirt and jacket with a white pleated blouse. She wanted the caseworker to know that where the state had failed sheâd succeeded. She even carried a purseâfor her, a symbol of respectability and stability.
The caseworker was a heavyset woman with frosted hair, heavy makeup and bright eyes. She greeted Macy in the lobby. âHi, Iâm Andrea.â
âIâm Macy. Nice to meet you.â
âLikewise,â she said. âPlease follow me.â
Andrea led her back past a jungle of fabric-padded cubicles to a small conference room. She directed Macy to achair, then sat down across from her, setting a large folder on the table between them. In the overcrowded schedule of a caseworker there was seldom time for formalities, and Andrea Bellamy quickly launched into the business at hand. âI looked up your file yesterday. I had a little trouble finding it with your name change.â
âYes, maâam.â
âAccording to your record, you were adopted at the age of eight by Dick and Irene Hummel. Your little sister was adopted by another family on the same day.â
âThatâs right. I just need to know where she is.â
The woman looked at her stoically. âIâd like to help you with that but unfortunately her file was ordered sealed by the judge.â
Macy looked at her quizzically. âSealed?â
âIt means I canât give you any information about her without a court order.â
âHow do I get one of those?â
âIn a case like this you probably canât.â
âWhat do you mean?â
âIn the seven years Iâve been here, Iâve never seen it happen.â
âBut donât I have a right to see my sister?â
âThat right is negated by her and her adopted parentsâ right to privacy.â
âWhy would my sister want privacy from me?â
The woman didnât answer.
âCould you tell me her name?â
âYou donât remember her name?â
Macy shook her head. âIâve forgotten.â
âIâm sorry, but I canât tell you anything.â
Macy rested her head in the palm of her hand. âIs there any way around this?â
âOnly if your sister decides that she wants to see you and makes a formal request. I now have your phone number and address, so Iâll contact you if that happens.â
âBut she might not even remember me. She was only four when we were separated.â
The woman looked at Macy sympathetically. âIâm really sorry. I wish I could be of more help, but itâs the law.â
Macyâs voice was sharp with anger. âBut sheâs my sister. We had no choiceâ¦â Macy looked into the womanâs eyes. âHow can complete strangers make that decision for us?â
Again the woman didnât answer.
âDo you think itâs fair?â
âNo, I donât. But weâre bound by the law, and sometimes the law and âfair â are two different things.â
After a moment Macy pointed to the folder between them. âCan I see my file?â
âI canât show it to you either.â
âI canât see my own file?â
âIâm afraid not. Thereâs information in here about your biological parents
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