In class, they’ve made thirty attempts to pick up the bird. Frida tells Emmanuelle about duty. Emmanuelle has a duty to be kind. She has a duty to care.
“Red stuff means the bird is hurting, and what do we do when we see a creature hurting?”
“Help.”
“Good. Who helps? Does Mommy help? Does Emmanuelle help?”
Emmanuelle points to her chest. “Me help. My-self! My-self!” She jumps for emphasis.
“Yourself. Good job. Can you pick up that birdie and bring it to Mommy?”
Emmanuelle walks over to the bird and crouches. She waves, saying, “Hello, bird! Hello! Hello!” She grabs the bird and tosses it at Frida, the first doll to complete the exercise.
* * *
One week remains. Even the mothers who’ve scored only zeros, the ones who’ve spent months in talk circle, believe their judge will give them a second chance. Supposedly they’ll all have their final court dates within a week or two after they leave. They’ll receive their personal clothes on the last morning, their purses and phones. The school will give them each sixty dollars. Buses will drop them off at points around the county. Their social workers and children’s guardians will be contacted. Files and supporting materials will be sent.
Families have changed. Some husbands have filed for divorce. Boyfriends and girlfriends and baby daddies have started new relationships. There have been engagements and pregnancies. Sunday calls are bogged down by logistics. Who is staying with whom, who will pay the legal bills, whether there’s anything left in the bank account, what to tell the children. The mothers look forward to long showers and haircuts, sleeping in their own beds, wearing their own clothes, driving, earning money, having money. Browsing the Internet, going shopping, getting a manicure. Speaking without a script. Seeing their children.
Tucker said the fathers were never given talking points. Sunday calls were never canceled due to technical difficulties. Frida wants to know if Tucker’s ex-wife will allow her near their son, if Gust will allow Tucker near Harriet. She needs to be patient. Soon, she’ll be free to have her own thoughts and feelings. She has a year of crying stored up. Sometimes it feels heavy in her body.
In the gymnasium, the mothers watch videos on poverty. There are segments on the global refugee crisis, homelessness in America, natural disasters. They must learn to speak to their children about world events. If they’ve had personal experience with poverty, they’re encouraged to share these experiences with their doll.
Back in Morris, the instructors distribute tablets loaded with conscience-provoking imagery: homeless camps, refugees washing ashore on a rubber boat, children in third world slums. The mothers begin teaching their dolls new words. Humanitarian crisis. Migration. Borders. Human rights.
Frida narrates the images like a picture book: Why is that man dirty? Why doesn’t he have shoes? Why is he sleeping under a pile of garbage?
“He bad,” Emmanuelle says.
“No. It’s because his life took a wrong turn and sometimes when people don’t have anyone to help them, they end up on the street.”
“Sad-sad.”
“Yes, sad like the birdie. But big-sad, because he’s a person.”
Ms. Khoury praises Frida for making connections, the praise so rare it feels imaginary.
Frida teaches Emmanuelle about shelters and soup kitchens, halfway houses and rehab programs. She says, “Imagine what it’s like to be homeless in winter, imagine when it’s raining.” She discusses the universal right to food and shelter.
Emmanuelle points to the door of the equipment room. “Home.”
Frida says, “Not everyone is so lucky.”
* * *
Frida is thinking about hearts and minds, towns and houses. Light that comes in sideways and not at all. Another house in another city. Seattle or Santa Fe. Denver. Chicago. Canada, always a fantasy. If Gust and Susanna would agree to relocate. If Tucker’s ex-wife and her new partner would agree. And that man’s ex-wife and her new partner.
More family data is added to Frida’s file. Susanna’s baby arrived early. Born at thirty-five weeks. A boy. Susanna needed an emergency C-section. Her placenta ruptured. She lost a significant amount of blood. Frida finds out from the counselor, who’s impressed that Gust bothered to inform them.
“You haven’t asked the baby’s name,” the counselor says.
“Please excuse me. What did they name him? I didn’t know they were having a boy.”
The baby’s name is Henry Joseph. He was five pounds and one ounce. He has jaundice, will likely spend a month in the NICU. Susanna might be in the hospital for several weeks.