Amadeo’s mother slumps at the desk, her cup of lemonade forgotten beside her.
“Hey, you tired, Mom?” He touches her shoulder.
She gives him a blank look, then nods like a sleepy child.
“Go home, then. We’ll meet you there.”
As she bends to gather her purse, her arm slow and jerky, he has the uncomfortable sense that something’s wrong, but then across the room in the knot of girls Lizette laughs wildly.
After his mother leaves, Amadeo also slips out, ostensibly to find a restroom, but really because the shrieking of babies and teenagers is getting to him. In the hallway, he peers into offices, where the other earnest work of Family Foundations gets done—food stamp outreach, free tax prep for qualifying families, therapy. Under a sign that reads Resource Library is a single jammed sagging bookshelf. Amadeo reads the spines. The Sexual Male. Now that’s one he wouldn’t mind taking a look at. Next to it, The Male Conundrum. Men Vanquishing Darkness. Who knew there were so many books devoted to the difficulties of being a man? He wonders if they have a copy of Mastering Ares. Another shelf is packed with books with titles like Family Violence and Black and Blue and Baby, Too. Amadeo straightens and moves quickly away.
All over the walls are signs for school supply drives and helpful posters in English and Spanish explaining how to prevent fetal alcohol syndrome and shaken baby syndrome and SIDS, syndrome after horrible syndrome.
Amadeo inspects one on early-childhood dental hygiene. Caries, apparently, is another word for cavities. Another poster details ways you can ensure your child’s success, and he is stunned to discover that his daughter is considered an at-risk child. Divorced parents, born to a teenage mother, unemployment of one or more parents, minority status, family discord. On the plus side, neither of her parents is incarcerated, currently.
Marissa and Angel appear beside him. Angel’s holding Connor, who’s gripping Marissa’s index finger and trying to focus on her face.
“So, do you like it, Dad? What do you think? Isn’t Brianna great? And my friends?” Her grin is expectant.
Amadeo touches the back of her hair. “It’s real nice. I see why you like it here.”
“Is your mom okay?” Marissa asks him. “She seems kind of out of it.”
“What? Yeah. She’s good.” His daughter looks so adult and poised, her shoulders straight.
“How old is that Brianna, anyway?” Marissa asks. From the classroom, a baby squalls.
“I don’t know. She went to UNM. She was even on the dean’s list.”
“The dean’s list of what?”
“Ugh, it’s like the honor roll.”
“She told you that?” Marissa says, just as Amadeo says, “Nerd.”
Angel looks from one to the other, her face screwed up in a particularly teenage expression of annoyed disbelief. “No, I looked her up. And some people might think it’s a good thing to succeed in school. Some people might respect that and not go around calling other people nerds.”
“I was kidding.” Amadeo smiles, fatherly and indulgent. “You can be on the dean’s list, too.”
“Shit,” Marissa says, tapping the poster over Amadeo’s shoulder, “who knew? I used to let Angel fall asleep with a bottle all the time.” She gives Connor’s hand a waggle.
Angel’s mouth twitches and she detaches Connor from her mother. “That’s why I got so many cavities.”
“You lost those baby teeth anyway. There were things we didn’t know back then. Like, you drank formula. I even smoked when I was pregnant.” Marissa laughs, then, catching sight of Angel’s face, says more soberly, “Like, a couple times.”