He is there almost every week. He is there to watch her through the window. And we all stand outside, him, the mother, the new girlfriend and me. We are there in the crowded hallway peering through the glass with the other mothers and occasional grandmother. And I know he works hard, I can tell by the dirt on his work clothes and boots- and the expression on his simultaneously youthful and worn face. By the logo on his regularly adorned hooded sweatshirt, I know he must be in the excavating business. This week the mother wasn’t there. The dad and girlfriend brought the little girl to class. They had arrived early and so had we. I heard the girlfriend ask the little girl about the sick mother while the dad spent at least five minutes in the bathroom washing the day’s work off of his hands. After he came out, he showed his hands to the girlfriend with an expression of satisfaction, and asked if they looked better. Meanwhile, the little girl sat on the floor clumsily removing her clunky snow boots to put on her delicate ballet shoes. And he warned her while she wrestled with her big boots, not to let her leg touch his pants; that they would definitely get dirty. But she did knick the knee of her pale pink tights on on the dusty shin of his work pants. As foretold, it left a mark which the girlfriend quickly and attentively tried to pat away. “Those are going to have to take a bath,” he said making light of the situation. And his daughter reassured him that she has two more pair at home. Often his speech is course in the hallway, not vulgar- but as to reflect a life hard earned. Yet, he is gentle with her. It is clear she is his treasure. When our daughters enter the classroom, he doesn’t leave the window. The conversation behind the glass with the girlfriend is peppered with the facts of daily life; like, he is going to have to drive to Flat Rock next week. And I don’t say anything- that I know that area well because I grew up near there and have a lot of family downriver Detroit. But I understand that it means he is going to have to drive over an hour each way to work. I can hear the disappointment in the girlfriend’s short response, to which he matter of factly replies that “It’s work,” and he encourages her that the ground is thawing. “They are saying it could be thawed by April 15th.” And I know he needs the work by the way he talks. I have no idea of his hardships or even lack thereof. I assume, on top of the cost of living, he must help pay for ballet lessons and probably child support. She understands and says that she only has two days of work this week, but next week was going to have overtime. Yet, he never loses focus on the reason he is here, and remarks that his daughter is improving. He notices that she is more coordinated and shares that information with the girlfriend in a coinciding understated and proud way. And they discuss where they will eat afterwards, because neither them has eaten dinner yet- clearly this is their priority. He excuses himself briefly to the vending machine and they share a couple Starbursts to tide them over. The girlfriend states that she wants the pink one. But he tells her “No, it’s her favorite,” and pockets it until the little girl comes out of class. While she sits on the floor replacing her dance shoes again with the oversized boots, he asks her if she would like the candy. She raises her arms toward him with excitement at the little surprise. “What do you say?”, he naturally prompts her.
“Please!” she says loudly. The father gives it to her, his love and the candy. It’s beautiful to watch as he smiles at her assuringly. And I believe it is all going to be okay, as he confidently takes the lead.