She was friendly, she was smiling, held out her hand to shake yours, but you could tell she was sizing you up, taking it all in, the dusty vintage jacket, the stained abused Adidas. Sorry we have to talk here, conference room was booked, another smile, she knows parents don't like sitting in the desks.
She knows you're busy, and gets right to it. No, there is no problem with Cat. In fact, it's the opposite. Cat is a very special girl. Gifted. Extremely gifted.
There is a special program, exam for the diploma, early admission. Because of her age, Cat would be enrolled in separate honors level University classes, other kids like her, her same age, sure there'd be some courses where she'd be in with the regular student body, but the kids in the program love it, no one's had a problem... Her test scores already qualify her for a full academic scholarship, all tuition, all books, 100% paid, you take the folder, brochures, information sheets, checklists. You try not to just smile, express the appropriate amount of pleasure, but you know your smile is too wide. You always knew Cat was an extraordinary child, taught herself to read, really, almost before she could walk.
It is after 1 AM before Cat is asleep, in the spot in the hut closest to the fire, when you and Sarah finally have a chance to look over the brochures, spending precious battery from the flashlight, straining to read the small print. When did they start printing everything in such tiny letters? You rub your eyes. The University is a good one, one of the best in the country, only an couple of hours drive from here, the counselor reassured you. You could see her every weekend. A couple of hours away might as well be the South Pacific. You don't have a car. All you would have to pay is her room and board, and they have made some very affordable arrangements, less than the price of an apartment...
You couldn't find the words to tell the counselor if you had the price of an apartment you'd be living in one. Maybe if we could get more work, Sarah wonders, she has an in with a night cleaning crew that doesn't ask for ID or address, pays cash, informal. $165 a week. You don't remind her that a day only has 24 hours, and that $165 a week is a long way from the price of an apartment. Could Cat herself work? Not legally for another year, and not with the course load she'd have, and not more than part time, and not for the price of an apartment.
You don't have a choice. You miss another day of work, and learn a new level of shame as you sit in the awkward school desk, unable to look at the counselor, and you tell her the truth. You can't pay for Cat's room and board at the University, in fact, you have all you can do just to pay for her food, such as it is, here. There isn't any board, none of you has any board. You are living - you can't tell her you are living in the best homeless housing you've ever had - a hut made of branches and trash, with a plastic tarp for a roof and a smoke hole for a fire so you don't freeze. It's hard enough to just say the word "homeless." You realize this is the first time you've said it to one of Them. They have become Them now, the people in the cars, with the warm, lighted houses, the soft beds.
The counselor bites her lip, she doesn't want to look at you either. She is supposed to report this, a homeless child. They have to be reported to the state, a new thing, they put them in foster care. You can feel her decide not to, you understand she won't, and you thank her as silently as she has reassured you.
I wish, she says, I mean there should be some provision, It is an unfortunate situation, in cases like this it's tragic. In fact, there was another similar case, a little boy, he plays the piano, maybe you saw him on - she stops, realizing that you don't see anybody on any show any more. A professor at the University was determined that he get the training he needed, a wrenching decision for the parents, impossible mixture of pride, joy, and devastation, she finally says the word - adoption. She can't look at your face. Sarah won't look at it either, even though you can't even finish the idea. You don't have to. Sarah has not given you the silent treatment like this since when you were first married, back in another world, another life, you can't remember what the fight was about. You told the counselor you would come back, and you do. There is a family, both faculty members, who met Cat back when they were doing all those tests and interviews that no one told you about. Would you, would your wife, do you think, consider a trial? There's a between semester orientation, they would love to have her stay with them, they'll pick her up, bring her back, oh yes, they will certainly bring her back, only 3 weeks, just to see...
Sarah is speaking to you again, finally. For 3 weeks, she'll sleep indoors, in a house, in a bed, eat real food. That's more than either of you have been able to give her, and you don't want her to forget - there's a little horror rush, as you realize that she may already have forgotten - She was ten the last time she slept in a bed, took a shower in a bathroom.
You skip a few meals and buy a phone card to call her, just hear her voice. The halfway point, just ten more days and she'll be back. She sounds distant, uncomfortable, maybe she was studying, but when she comes back you know it is more than that. You barely recognize her. New clothes, hair shining, styled like the cover of a magazine, makeup. She says good-bye and walks slowly, reluctantly toward you, carrying her new travel bag. You are not prepared, could not have prepared, for the shock of seeing yourself, seeing Sarah, with her eyes, her eyes after only 3 weeks, just to see...
She doesn't say much the first few days, not to you, not to Sarah, not even to Concepcion, who misses her reading classes, and says so, not to Juan, the newest member of your little community, Juan whose real name is Ahmed but at least for now, it is better that he is Juan. Only you and Sarah seem aware of anything more than a superficial change, different hairstyle, clothes, Lalo and the rest tease her, they missed her too, but every emotional resource she has is working overtime to pretend that she is not ashamed. Of you.
Now you are living in a bad TV movie. Now you are the illiterate backwoods hillbilly who is refusing his child a chance to have a better life. That's how you and Sarah see it, anyway. Lalo and company are baffled. Better life? How?
No rich couple can love her more than you do, shy suggestions that probably not more than they do, either. She is your blood. What future is better for her than that, than this? You work for yourself now, everyone here does. Lalo's nephew - don't you have eyes? This is your daughter, don't you see how he looks at her? Family, love, beans, a good man - have you not noticed that Chucho says the rosary every day, how he takes care of his mother? That, Concepcion tells you, with a sidelong glance at Cat, mercifully out of earshot of this intense conversation, half English, half Spanish, the product of some superhuman immersion on everybody's part the last few months, that is how you can tell if a man is good. Does he say the rosary, and does he take care of his mother. Shy smile at Lalo, who apparently does both, he looks down, shyer smile. Cat is fourteen already. Don't you want grandchildren?
Coming soon - Part 7: Who's life is it, anyway?
Here are links to the first 5 for those who haven't read them, and want to.
Part 1
http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=show_topic&forum=104&topic_id=582245Part 2
http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=show_topic&forum=104&topic_id=582475Part 3
http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=show_topic&forum=104&topic_id=582720Part 4
http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=show_topic&forum=104&topic_id=583418Part 5
http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=show_topic&forum=104&topic_id=585259 
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