“You plan on it?” he then asked.
“No,” Izzy said again. She had sent her father numerous letters and pictures in the first months of living at the complex, though she’d never gotten a response. She called him a few times, but she could hear the way the alcohol dulled all of his responses; he could barely remember Cap’s name. After a while, Izzy had simply given up on staying in touch. Her father was now simply a person from her past, and she understood how strange it was to trade in one family for another. But this was how it was for other people in the project. The few who did have family with whom they stayed in touch did so sparingly, sending e-mails to siblings or parents or cousins who didn’t really seem interested in what was going on in their lives. “I guess I didn’t realize how little was holding us together,” Alyssa said of her sister, twelve years her senior, barely a part of her upbringing. “She seems almost relieved that I’m not a part of her life.”
Most of the people in the complex were either estranged from their own families, or their parents were dead. They knew this was one of the reasons that they had been chosen for the project, which made Izzy feel weird, the idea that they could join the Infinite Family because no one else wanted them. No one would miss them if they disappeared and no one would be there for them if it all fell apart.
“He’s in a bad way, near as I can tell,” Mr. Tannehill said. “Sometimes I go into the market and a full aisle is empty because he’s forgotten to restock. I found him asleep in there once. And I know he’s been robbed already this year.”
“You want me to go see him,” Izzy said, another statement of fact that felt like a question.
“No,” Mr. Tannehill said. “I’m just your friend. We’re just talking. You’re an adult now. You got a kid of your own. You know what you’re doing, Izzy. I just thought you should know.”
“Okay, then,” Izzy said, happy to let the whole matter drop. Just then, Maxwell started pushing himself out of the high chair, and Izzy stood up to hold him. He squirmed out of her arms and started to prowl around the nearby tables, which prompted Cap to want to get up. Mr. Tannehill lifted the boy out of the chair and set him gently on the floor.
“They can’t go more than a few minutes without wanting to run around,” Izzy explained.
“I know how it is,” Mr. Tannehill said.
“You must think this is so strange,” Izzy admitted.
“I do,” Mr. Tannehill replied, smiling, “but the best kind of strange. You’re a different person, Izzy. You look good; your boys are sweet boys. If it takes this Infinite Family place to take care of you, then I think it’s great.”
“You’re still the best person I’ve ever met,” Izzy said.
“I’m not,” Mr. Tannehill said, his face blushing. “I used to be a pretty damned awful person. I drank too much and ran off my family. But you helped me realize that I could still be a decent person and so I try to be when I can. Ask anybody at the restaurant, though. They’ll tell you I can be a real sonofabitch.”
“Bitch,” Cap said, and then he and Maxwell repeated it, “bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch.”
“See now?” Mr. Tannehill said, but Izzy leaned over and hugged him.
“Good to see y’all,” he said, “real good.”
On the way out of town, Izzy passed by her father’s market, the cinder-block building so squat and ugly, and so familiar. She remembered her father letting her take a package of candy cigarettes, all the soda she could drink. She remembered sleeping under the counter while her father worked. At the last possible second before she would cause a fairly substantial accident, she pulled into the parking lot at the corner of the building. From the car, she could see into the market, the counter in the middle of the building, and there was her father, wearing a flannel shirt that she recognized as his uniform. He was resting his head on his fist, reading a magazine. She knew that the right thing would be to step out of the car and introduce Cap to his grandfather. But what would she do with Maxwell? What would she say to her own father? She felt the uncertain terror that her proximity to her father could pull her back into her old life, totally alone, with no hope of something better.
And yet, there was her father, now making change for a group of teenagers, as close to her as he had been in two years. She could simply run into the market, give him a hug, and then drive home.