“You love me, don’t you Teddy?  I love you!”

“No?  Tomorrow the child goes, and that’s the end of it.”

“But John…”

“Linda, it’s over!  It was all just a self-indulgent dream anyway. Doomed from the very beginning.

She will never – could never – fit into our lifestyle. We were naïve to believe anything else.”

“Please John, lower your voice, she’ll hear you!”

“They can’t blame us Linda. They can’t say we didn’t try. God knows I did.”

“Hold me close Teddy, and don’t listen.”

“But she’s so small John, just a baby, and Children’s Aid assured us…”

“Eight years old is hardly a baby. If anything, she seems older. Sitting there like some kind of zombie – staring off into space. What is she thinking? Then there was the fire in my workshop…”

“Don’t blame that on her! The fire marshal said it was spontaneous combustion. All those old paint rags
you threw into the trash can. Miss Blair assured me…”

“Miss Blair, Miss Blair! All that interests that self-centered bureaucrat are her placement statistics.”

“What’s that Teddy? No, they don’t know we’re here. Sit very still and we’ll be invisible. You’ll see.”

“I don’t know what happened John. I seemed to be communicating with her. We were genuinely warming up to each other. Then suddenly, without warning, she changed. Withdrew. It was almost as if…”

“What?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. I’ll call Social Services in the morning.”

He loves me too Teddy. That’s what he said. That’s what they all say when they touch you… stroke your hair… make you do things. It’s dark in here Teddy, did you bring the matches?”