Mary Wolf (17 page)

“I'll bring bottles for him. Don't worry, he'll be fine.”

I had a plan. While Daddy filled out the application, I'd take Andy to the free clinic. Maybe he could get his vaccinations. Once it was done, Mama and Daddy wouldn't mind. Some of the kids around here aren't too healthy.

“Better leave him,” Mama said regretfully. “He might fuss.”

“This good boy? This good boy won't fuss.” I nuzzled Andy's neck until he squealed.

“Well, I guess it's all right.”

“Take me, too!” Polly begged.

“Not today, honey. Next time,” I promised. “But I'll bring you something.”

“Like what? A toy?”

“How about ice cream?”

“Oh boy!” She clapped her hands. “Mary's going to bring us some ice cream!”

“Big wow,” Danielle said, stomping outside.

While Mama got Andy ready, I ran down to Dave's. He'd agreed to loan us his car. I parked it beside the RV and got out. Danielle was chucking rocks at the ground.

“What if they won't help us?” she said.

“They will.” We have no money, no car, no jobs. We've got everything going for us: nothing. “Don't worry, things are under control.”

“It sure didn't sound that way last night. You guys think I'm sleeping but I'm not; I hear you.” She was trying to look tough, her eyes mean and squinty.

“Daddy was all worked up, but everything's fine now.” I put my hand on her arm but she shrugged it off.

“You're a liar. You guys are a bunch of liars.”

“Don't call me a liar.”

“Then don't act like one. Why'd you say he sold the house that time?”

“Because he did. It's the truth.”

“He didn't! I asked him.”

“When?”

“That day, after you ran out.”

“He said I was lying?”

“Why'd you lie about the house?”

I was drowning in her words, in the hate in her eyes. I thought he had finally told them the truth. Suddenly I felt so tired, as if all the life had leaked out of me.

“Believe whatever you want, Danielle. I guess you'll have to figure it out.”

“Some choice.” She threw a fistful of rocks onto the ground. “Liar. You're just a bunch of liars.”

I went into the RV and picked up Andy. I got his changing bag and put his stroller over my arm. They I went out and sat in the passenger seat. I couldn't even look at my father.

“Beautiful day,” he said as we drove down the highway. The windows won't roll up, so he talked loud. “Look at that cloud. What's it look like to you?”

“Rain.”

“No! A cow. See, there's the head, and there's the tail on the other end. What's the matter with you, Mary? You're awfully quiet.”

“I guess I don't have much to say.”

He was enjoying the drive, the feeling of freedom. He listened to a talk show on the radio. Andy doesn't have a car seat, so he sat on my lap, the seat belt stretched tight across us.

After a while Daddy remembered where we were headed. “I hope this goes all right today. How do I look?”

“Fine.” He was wearing his best shirt and pants and had touched up his shoes with black crayon.

“It's just as well your mother didn't come. These things have to be handled with finesse. You don't want to lie, but you can't exactly tell the truth. If you do, you'll just screw yourself up. It's a shame, but that's how the game is played. Your mother can't do it; she's too honest.”

“Hmmm.”

“We're not asking for a handout; just a helping hand. Some people make a career out of standing in line. I'm not talking about the ones who need help. That's different. But if they don't want to work or they're on drugs or something, the hell with them.”

“What if they have kids?”

He shot me a look.

“You can't punish the kids because the parents are jerks.”

“Why are you arguing with me, Mary?”

“I'm not.”

“Why do you always have to argue?”

“I'm not! I'm just saying it's complicated. Maybe we won't even qualify. You should've called and asked.”

“They brush you off on the phone. Any fool knows that. You have to go down there in person. What are you saying? That I'm some freeloading bum? I've never asked for a dime in my life!”

“I'm just saying there's rules. Rules change all the time.”

“Then they can change them for us! We're not some scum they can kick under the desk and ignore. This is a special situation.”

“Not to them.”

“Janice thinks we'll qualify.”

“Janice thinks Elvis is alive and well. Maybe he'll loan us some money.”

“What's the matter with you? Whose side are you on?”

“I'm just pointing out some facts.”

“I'll point out the facts. When we get there, you just keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking.” Daddy sighed. “Who would've thought it would come to this? It's funny how things turn out.”

“Hilarious.”

“If somebody had told me I'd be on welfare someday, I would've said they were crazy. Don't worry, it's only till we get on our feet. Sometimes a man has to swallow his pride. But I'll tell you, Mary, I'm choking on this thing. If it weren't for your mother and you kids, I'd tell these people to go to hell.”

“That'd go over good.” Andy nibbled on my thumb. His bottom teeth are coming in. “How much do you think they'll give us?”

“Whatever it is, it won't be enough, but it's more than we've got right now,” he said.

“Watch that truck.” We were closer to the city. The traffic on the highway was thick and fast.

“Mary, do you mind? I've been driving half my life.”

“Not lately, and not in the city,” I said. “I think you're supposed to take the next exit.”

“I can read, too. Will you relax?”

We got lost downtown in a maze of one-way streets. It wasn't a hot day, but Daddy was sweating. We stopped at a gas station so I could ask directions while Daddy jiggled Andy on his lap.

The county complex was huge. We drove in circles, looking for the Department of Social Services. Daddy got madder and madder.

“Look at the size of this place,” he fumed. “It's like Disneyland for bureaucrats. This is why we don't have any money, Mary. The government keeps getting bigger and bigger and the people keep getting smaller.”

“There's Social Services. It's that big pink building.”

The lots were full. We had to park far away.

“What do we do now, call a cab?” Daddy grumbled. He combed his hair and put on his sports coat. I unfolded Andy's stroller and strapped him in. He smiled at us and waved his arms and legs.

We walked back to Social Services. The waiting room was jammed with men and women, mostly women, and bored, restless kids bugging their mothers and each other. Several long lines snaked slowly toward counters where employees dispensed answers and applications.

My father went up to the information window, where a man was arguing with a clerk.

“I understand that, sir,” the clerk was saying as if she'd said it a million times that day.

“You understand nothing. You're not listening to me.”

“Excuse me,” Daddy said, “I just need to know—”

“I'm sorry, sir, you'll have to wait your turn,” the clerk said.

“No cuts,” the man behind Daddy muttered.

“I just want to know if I'm in the right line.”

“You'll have to wait your turn, sir, like everybody else.”

Daddy got in line behind the others. “This is going to take all day,” he said.

“We'll walk around. I'll check back later.”

I wheeled Andy out the door and past the courthouse. There were policemen outside, and lots of worried-looking people. Two women who looked like secretaries walked by. One smiled at Andy, but the other one said, “Babies having babies” as they passed us.

The free clinic was full of women and kids. I got in the long line. It was finally our turn.

“Excuse me,” I said to the woman at the counter. “Is this where people can get free shots?”

“For you or him?”

“Him. He needs his vaccinations.”

“Are you on Medi-Cal?”

“No.”

“Take a seat. You'll have to wait.”

“I can't stay long. I have to catch my ride.”

“Can you come back tomorrow?”

“No, we're just passing through.”

Andy started fussing. I gave him a bottle of juice.

“How old is he?”

“Four months.”

“And he hasn't had his shots?”

“No. We've been on the road for a while. I want to get it done right away.”

“Wait here.” The woman walked to a nearby desk and spoke to another woman.

“All right,” she said when she came back, “but next time you'll have to wait your turn.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

She pulled out a form. “I need some information. Whose child is this?”

“Mine,” I said.

Daddy wasn't in the car or the waiting room. I figured he was in an inner office, filling out his application. I took Andy to the ladies' room and changed his diaper and peeled the tiny bandage off his arm.

We strolled up and down the hallways, killing time, stopping in front of a door marked C
HILD
P
ROTECTIVE
S
ERVICES.

I circled the waiting room, studying the posters as if they were exhibits in a museum. Then I found myself standing at the front counter, where a woman with short hair was talking on the phone.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said when she hung up. “How can I help you?”

“I was just kind of curious what you do here. I mean, is this where you go about child abuse?”

“This is the place. Did you want to make a report?”

“No. I was just wondering how you know if a child's being abused. I mean, when it's bad enough to do something.”

She studied me, her face full of questions. I emptied my mind until my eyes were windows into windows.

“It depends. If it's physical abuse, there might be bruises or lacerations. If it's sexual abuse—”

“Oh, it's nothing like that. These kids aren't being hit or anything.”

“Are they being neglected?”

“What do you mean by neglected?”

“Are their parents taking care of them? Do they have enough food and clothing?”

“Well, yeah. Their parents really love them. It's just, you know, a difficult situation.”

“What seems to be the problem?”

“No problem,” I said. “It's just that they don't have a place to stay.”

“I see. Well, there's a homeless shelter downtown.”

“They're not exactly homeless. Anyway, they're going on welfare. Just until they get on their feet.”

“Well, if you feel it's a situation we should check out—”

“Oh, no, I was just curious,” I said.

She handed me a card. “Call this number anytime. It's answered twenty-four hours a day.”

“That's okay. I won't need it.”

“Take it,” she said. “Just in case.”

When I got outside, I threw the card away.

Daddy's pacing in the hall in front of Social Services, his sports coat flapping he's moving so fast.

“I'm sorry we're late. I had to change Andy's diaper.”

He marches toward the car. I can barely keep up. Andy's head bobs and the stroller rattles.

“I lost track of the time. I didn't mean to keep you waiting.”

I'm talking to his back. He's almost running.

We get in the car and he slams the door, gripping the steering wheel, his chest heaving.

“I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't think you'd be done so soon.”

“They turned me down,” he says.

“What?”

“You heard me!” he explodes. “Are you deaf? Are you stupid? They turned me down!”

“Why?”

He grinds the ignition and slams the car into reverse. We peel out of the parking lot, tires shrieking.

“They changed the rules! You're always right, aren't you, Mary? What's it like to always be right? They said, once you have a house, come back and we'll help you. Once I have a house I won't need their help! How am I supposed to get a house with no money? Has the world gone insane? Doesn't anybody listen?”

“Are you sure that's what they said? It doesn't make any sense.”

“Of course it doesn't make sense! That's the government!” he shouts. “I tried to explain. This is a special situation! I'm not like these people with their hands out all the time. They wouldn't listen to me! You should've seen their faces! Like I'm the scum of the earth, some worthless bum! Asking me all these stupid questions—”

“Did you answer the questions? You have to answer the questions.”

“They want you down on your knees, they want you crawling like a dog. They threw me out in front of all those people! Everyone was laughing at me!”

He speeds down the street, cutting blindly through traffic. Horns are screaming. He screams back. I want to beg him to slow down but my tongue is frozen. Andy whimpers and hides his face against my neck.

We hurl along the ribbon of Highway 1, tires screeching on the curves, almost flying. Beside me, my father is making sounds like an animal caught in the jaws of a trap. Far below us, the restless ocean glitters like the fan of silver water he jumped through to please me, a lifetime ago. We laughed so hard. Now he's someone I don't know. He's like one of those animals you see on the road, that's been run over so many times you can't even tell what it was.

Eighteen

Sometimes that night we didn't understand what he was saying. He seemed to be arguing with people in his head, answering their accusations, seeing their laughing faces in the windshield.