Mostly things are good between them now, but occasionally she snaps, and he feels the dart of her anger. Amadeo understands that her forgiveness won’t come easily, that for all her sweetness, she holds something back, and he recognizes that this is a sign of her maturity. He’s proud of Angel for her anger, proud she sees that his behavior is something to be angry about. He pledges, once again, that he will earn her forgiveness.
All of Lent, Amadeo attends AA meetings, then prays in the morada, alone and with the others. He’s lost his faith in processions, though. He knows now that for someone with his particular weaknesses, performance is a distraction. But he enjoys the quiet of the building, with his eyes shut among these murmuring men, his voice folded in with theirs. He is aware of their heat and thrumming thoughts, and as the prayer flows around him, he falls into the current.
Meanwhile, at home, Connor cruises around the house, pulling himself along furniture, delighted by his new perspective. He has five words now: mama, ball, hat, hot, no. His daughter turns the pages of her GED study book. Occasionally a whole day passes without them mentioning Yolanda.
Connor sleeps well now, and Angel sleeps better, too. Lately, she has been thinking about returning to her old high school in the fall. The prospect is scary: there would be so much to catch up on, that whole complicated social world to navigate. Would Priscilla speak to her? Would anyone?
The main obstacle is child care. Her father has been helping more, now that he has a full-time job at Lowe’s, but it doesn’t pay much, and means he can’t watch Connor. Her mother has offered to help with day care, and so has Tío Tíve, from his meager Social Security check, but even so there will be a shortfall. Child care is so expensive, and now that she’s seen the quality of the nursery at Smart Starts!, she can’t imagine leaving him at the grubby KidKorral, even if she could afford it.
But still, Angel thinks about school: the concrete hallways, the din of passing period, the airy openness of the library upstairs. She longs to be back in a regular life of classes and assignments, each day broken into manageable blocks. She longs to be learning.
She thinks about Brianna, too, less with anger now than with sadness. But more frequently, she thinks about the things Brianna taught her—about encouraging Connor’s early literacy, about giving him loving boundaries, and mostly about valuing herself. In spite of what happened after, Brianna put the best of herself into these lessons, and for that Angel is grateful.
One Saturday in March, Angel meets Trinity and Christy at the playground next to the library. It’s the first time she’s seen anyone from Smart Starts!, and, driving, Angel was nervous. But now, sitting under the spring sun, two scrub jays going nuts in the cottonwoods, her spirits rise, because here are her old friends Trinity and Christy, happy to see her.
Angel plops Connor in the sandbox next to two-year-old Kristiana, who regards him levelly. Around her pacifier, Kristiana comments, “Baby.”
Connor pushes a handful of sand into his mouth.
Angel sweeps her finger through his wet maw, swiping at his struggling tongue. “Not for eating, hijito.”
Sandy spittle drips down his chin. “No no no,” he says, beating his arms and gnashing. He takes up another handful, conveying it to his mouth with mercifully spread fingers and poor aim.
“Fine,” says Angel, sitting back. “You want to eat it, eat it.”
“You can’t stop them,” Trinity says with authority.
“So,” ventures Angel. “How’s Smart Starts!?”
Trinity shrugs. “It got crappy after you left.”
Angel understands that this isn’t exactly the truth, that Trinity is saying this to spare her feelings.
“I mean, the new girls are cool,” says Trinity. “But I don’t know, it’s like Brianna’s checked out. She’s leaving in June for grad school. Ysenia and Tabitha got their GEDs. I’ll be glad to be done.”