A Good Dude (23 page)

Candace didn’t think that would be too hard.

“You say you’re moving on the first, so I have to see your new place and make sure it meets our basic standards. You’re going to need somewhere for the baby to sleep, clothes and food for her, and a car seat.”

“I’ll get all of that,” Candace promised.

“There weren’t any drugs in your system when you had your baby, so I don’t think we need you in a treatment program. But I am going to require that you take a parenting class. These classes meet once a week for two months.”

That sounded like an enormous amount of time, but Candace tried not to let it get her down. “Is that it?” she asked.

The woman studied her computer for a few seconds. “Yeah, Candace. I think that will be it. We’re here to help you. I’m not going to put you through the ringer.”

Candace smiled. Two months was a long time, but at least it was a number she could look at. “When can I start the class?”

The caseworker played with her computer. “The next one doesn’t start until July 1. They have a class that meets in the morning, and the other is at night.”

“I have school, so I need a night class.”

“All right. I can enroll you. I’ll have the information ready when I give you a copy of your Service Plan tomorrow.”

“When that class is over,” Candace asked, “on September 1, I can have my baby back?”

The caseworker smiled. “If everything else checks out, you could have your baby the very next day.”

Candace couldn’t have been happier. She reached to shake the older woman’s hand. “Thank you, ma’am. I won’t let you down. You’ll see.”

Gabriella was surprised. “Well, I don’t usually get that type of response, but you’re welcome, Candace. I wish the best for you. I’ll call you later on today to let you know what time your visit is tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Candace said and stood to leave.

“You don’t have any more questions?” the caseworker asked.

Candace shook her head. “No. I can’t think of anything.”

Gabriella opened one of the lower drawers on her desk. “Great. Can you do me one quick favor before you go?” She came up with a clear plastic cup with a lid on it. “If you don’t mind . . . .”

Candace took it and eyed the woman queerly. “I thought you said you didn’t think I was on drugs.”

“I know,” Gabriella said and smiled. “But it never hurts to be sure. If you don’t mind . . . .”

Candace smiled back at her. “No, I don’t mind at all.”

A FAMILIAR FACE

Candace left the CPS office in good spirits. She thought her caseworker was going to be some cruel, inconsolable, inconvincible witch, but Gabriella’s terms were reasonable. Candace knew she would benefit from a parenting class, and she had a whole two months to get her new apartment ready for the baby. The only problem was the lies she would have to continue telling her parents, but she only had to do that until September. If everything worked out, they would be none the wiser.

On the way home, she stopped by a Kroger’s a few miles from her home. She went to the service center, and, sure enough, her thousand dollars was waiting. The clerk counted out ten $100 bills, and Candace added them to the four she already had in her purse.

She felt rich. She sashayed out of the store like a diva and walked to a Frost Bank in the same shopping center. Even without her parents there to nag her, Candace knew not to walk around with that kind of money. She was a little worried about opening her first account, but the customer service there was exceptional. Ten minutes later she walked out with a checkbook, a debit card, and a chest full of confidence.

On the way out of the bank, Candace stopped at a newsstand and bought the daily
Star Telegram
. She never read the newspaper, and wasn’t about to start now. She discarded everything but the Careers section. She went home and embarked on a search for her very first job.

* * *

At ten the next morning, Candace walked into her caseworker’s office again. When she saw a white couple sitting across from Gabriella, Candace thought she was too early, but something about the baby they cradled was all too familiar.

Seeing Leila again was an intimidating experience. Candace fought for air like she was in the grip of an anaconda. She swayed indecisively in the doorway.

Today she wore a gray skirt with a long-sleeved white blouse. She hoped the outfit would impress her caseworker, but Candace was actually dressed for a job interview she had in a few hours. She never thought of being a waitress, but an ad for Pappadeaux restaurant caught her eye in yesterday’s paper.

“Come on in, Candace,” Gabriella said. “This is Mr. and Mrs. Whitley. They’re the family taking care of Leila until we get things settled.”

The man and woman smiled brightly. In her peripheral vision, Candace noticed the man was going bald and the woman was a brunette. She saw that Gabriella wore blue today. Candace thought the man might have stuck his hand out for her to shake, but these observations were all lost to her, as if in a fog.

From the moment she walked into the room, Candace couldn’t take her eyes off the brown bundle of joy nestled in the woman’s arms. Leila’s eyes were closed. Her tiny nose twitched a little as she took in new smells. Her eyebrows were thin and barely visible against her walnut-colored skin. She was wrapped up tightly, like a papoose.

Candace’s feet moved on their own. When she stopped, she stood before the woman holding her child. Mrs. Whitley was in her late forties. Her shoulder-length hair was straight, dark brown with streaks of gray throughout. She had a warm smile and nice teeth. Crow’s feet added maturity, but not age, to her features.

“Hi. I’m Martha Whitley.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Candace. That’s my little girl. I haven’t seen her for a while. She’s so beautiful.”

“She is,” Martha agreed.

“And I’m Doug Whitley,” her husband said.

“Hi.”

“Would you like to hold her?” his wife asked.

Candace could barely respond. She reached with trembling hands. Her face felt hot. Her eyes filled, and tears flowed like oil.

“Oh, it’s all right,” Martha Whitley said. She stood with the baby cradled in one arm like a football. She looked so natural. Candace didn’t think she would ever feel that comfortable with Leila. She reached for her baby, and the handoff was slow and clumsy.

“No, you have to—just hold your arm naturally,” the older woman instructed. “Let her head rest, there, and you can support her bottom with your other hand. There. You got it.”

Candace finally got her arms right, and Mrs. Whitley backed away. Candace wavered with the little girl in her arms, and then took a seat in the third chair Gabriella had in her office. She wiped the tears from her face and stared down at the life she created. Leila’s face was so cute. Her scent was familiar. Her body was so tiny.

Candace looked up and saw that everyone was watching her. They all smiled eagerly. Candace wondered if she was expected to do something.

The caseworker introduced the Whitleys again, and she may have said what they did for a living, Candace wasn’t sure. There was some talk about the family’s foster care history, and Gabriella told them a little about Candace’s case. Most of what was said never fully registered.

Candace had her baby back, and that was all that mattered. That was a feeling she could compare to nothing she’d ever experienced. She studied every line in her baby’s face. She held her nose close to Leila’s head and took in the scent of her hair. She kissed her so many times she was sure someone would say something, but no one did.

Candace wanted to unwrap the blankets so she could see Leila’s whole body, but she didn’t know if that was inappropriate. She definitely didn’t want to drop her baby, so she kept her movements to a minimum.

But it was all over so soon.

A whole hour passed like five minutes, and Candace’s first visitation came to an end. Leila never woke up, and Candace never got to see her daughter’s eyes. She didn’t think to take a picture with her cell phone.

And though Candace hadn’t spoken much, not at all to her recollection, the Whitleys decided they liked this young girl from New York. The rest of her weekly visits could take place at their residence, and these would last up to three hours.

The hardest part of the encounter was giving the baby back, but Candace was prepared for this. She handed Leila over graciously, and didn’t cry too much. Mrs. Whitley said it would get easier as time went by, but that turned out to be a goddamned lie.

After the foster family left, Candace got her Service Plan from Gabriella. Everything was typed up and official. Candace was appreciative, but she did not shake the caseworker’s hand when she left this time. She was starting to see Gabriella and the office she represented as a source of pain, much like the other parents who had dealings with CPS.

* * *

Next on the agenda was a trip to Pappadeaux. Candace arrived thirty minutes early to her first job interview, and this greatly impressed the hiring manager, Jesse Fuentes. He was a tall man, wearing black slacks with a white shirt. Candace looked around the restaurant and saw that all of the staff sported this color scheme.

Pappadeaux was a huge establishment, not the hole in the wall Candace expected. It looked like they could seat hundreds. Jesse led her through the restaurant, walking and talking at the same time.

“Basically, you want to be friendly,” he was saying. “You want them to like you the moment you start talking.” He had a thick accent. It was exotic, and kind of sexy. He looked back at her and smiled. “But you’re a pretty girl. You’re not going to have a problem with that.”

Candace cocked an eyebrow.

“I’m just being honest about the business,” Jesse said. “Ugly waitresses don’t get as much as pretty ones. That’s just the way it is. No one wants some ugly person bringing their food.”

Candace never thought she’d make money with her looks, but wasn’t opposed to the idea.

Jesse walked into a door marked “Staff Only” and Candace followed, finding herself in the largest kitchen she’d ever seen.

“This is Candace, everybody,” he said, still moving. Most of the chefs looked up and waved. Candace waved back. “Hey.”

Jesse exited the kitchen through a second door, still talking and pointing things out as he went. Back in the main restaurant, he zigged and zagged until they reached an area occupied by six people, all wearing black and white like he was.

“Hey guys, this is Candace. She’s going to be our new addition to the B shift.”

That was news to Candace.

“Hey,” the bulk of them said.

“Hi, Candace,” another offered.

They greeted her with the same perky smiles that generated their big tips.

Candace said, “Hi” to them, too, but she was a little less bubbly.

Jesse led her to an office and gave her a study menu. “The main thing you need to worry about at first is memorizing the menu. When someone asks you what’s in the Pasta Mardi Gras, you have to be quick: ‘
Linguine tossed with crawfish, andouille sausage and crimini mushrooms in a marinara cream sauce topped with jumbo grilled shrimp
.’ ” He sounded like a radio commercial.

“You have to say it like it’s the best-tasting thing in the world,” he went on. “Which, in most cases, it is!” Candace had to pump the brakes. “Wait. So, I got the job?”