“Does Daniel sleep in there?” said Isabel, indicating the crib.

“Yes, or in our bed if he’s crying.”

“With you and Randy?” I said.

“With me,” said Julia, sticking out her chin.

“He might have an ear infection,” said Isabel. “You need to get that checked out, Julia. You have to take him to the doctor.”

“There’s a copay at the clinic.”

“Did you enroll him in the program I told you about?”

“Not yet.”

“I brought some of the paperwork. We can fill out most of it today. But it has to get finished, Julia. These are things you have to do to properly take care of your son.”

“I have an idea,” I said. Daniel picked his head up and stared at me. I tried to put some false excitement in my voice. “While you guys go over the paperwork and get all the documents filled out, why don’t I take Daniel over to the park?”

Julia looked down at her son, Daniel buried his head in her shoulder.

“Sure,” said Julia, pushing him away. “That would be a big help.”

It was just two blocks down from the apartment, a beat city park, surrounded by a metal fence. Black blistered rubber was set beneath a rusted jungle gym and a dented slide. Empty beer cans were strewn about the cement benches that surrounded the play equipment, a balled-up McDonald’s bag, shards of green glass. It was desolate and ugly, but still, when Daniel approached it, after a slow silent trudge beside me, he couldn’t help himself from breaking into a trot and then a run.

He jumped onto the rubber strap that served as a seat on the swing set. He grabbed the chains and said, “Push.”

I pushed lightly.

“Harder,” he said.

I pushed only a little bit harder, unsure of the government-approved safe pushing speeds for four-year-olds on rickety swing sets.

“Harder,” he ordered.

I complied, and as he reached the pinnacle of his flight, he let out a squeal that told me I was doing it right.

After the swing he clambered over the jungle gym and slid down the slide and rode the bouncy woodpecker. I sat on one of the benches and watched. He went from apparatus to apparatus with a great seriousness, never smiling, giving me the eye now and then but continuing on his rounds, purposely avoiding me.

Eventually he tired and sat down on a different bench, his legs dangling, his Velcro sneakers swinging. I stood, ambled over, sat beside him. He slid away a bit but stayed on the bench.

“How’s it going, Daniel?” I said.

He shrugged.

“Do you remember who I am? My name is Victor. I’m the lawyer. I’m here to help you. Do you remember that?”

“Mommy says I don’t need no help.”

“Any help, and I hope she’s right. You were great on that jungle gym. You were like Tarzan out there.”

“Who’s Tarzan?”

“The king of the jungle gym. You don’t know Tarzan?”

He shook his head.

“He was a kid, really a baby, that was flying in a plane with his parents. They were flying over the jungle when the plane went down, bang. Everyone was lost but the baby, alone in the jungle. Luckily for the baby, it was found by a family of apes, and the apes decided to take care of this little baby. So they fed him and cared for him, and the boy grew up playing with all the animals and swinging on vines. They called him the king of the jungle.”

“That sounds like fun, swinging on vines.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“What’s a vine?”

“Like a rope with leaves. I met Randy. Remember we talked about him before?”

Daniel nodded.

“You still like him?”

He shrugged.

“He doesn’t hurt you, does he?”

He shook his head and then said, “What happened to the mommy and daddy in the plane?”

“Tarzan’s mommy and daddy?”

He nodded.

“They died,” I said.

“Oh.”

“What happened to your father?”

“He’s gone.”

“Did he die, too?”

“No. Mommy says he’s someplace called New Jersey. Is there a jungle there?”

“Sure,” I said. “Newark. So it’s just you and Mommy and sometimes Randy in your family, right?”

“And Tanya.”

“Who is Tanya, Daniel?”

“My sister.”

“Is she older or younger than you?”

“Older. And nice. And really pretty. She took care of me all the time, and we watched TV together.”

“But not anymore?”

“No.”

“Where’s Tanya now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where did she go?”

“Someplace. I don’t know.”

“Why did she go someplace?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you miss her?”

“A lot.”

“When did she leave?”

“After Randy came.”

“Okay.”

“He didn’t like her.”

“Do you know why?”

“Because she was Tanya.”

“Okay.”

“Can you find her for me?”

“Is that what you want me to do, Daniel?”

He nodded.

“How are your teeth doing?” I said.

He didn’t answer, instead he pulled his mouth over his teeth so that his lips disappeared.

“Do you know what a dentist is?”

He shook his head.

“A dentist is a doctor who takes care of teeth. I found one to take care of yours. You get to sit in a chair, and there’s this light and nice music, and the doctor looks in your mouth and fixes things. He said he could fix your teeth so you wouldn’t have to hide them all the time.”

“Will it hurt?”

“A little.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“When something’s broken, you have to fix it or it gets broken worse. It’s the same with teeth. This doctor, his name is Dr. Pfeffer, he said he can fix your teeth so they won’t get worse.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“Daniel, you have to.”

“No.”

“How about we make a deal?”

“I don’t want to go. I don’t. I don’t.”

“How about this, Daniel? If you go to the dentist, I’ll find your sister.”

“Tanya?”

“Yes. How about that?”

He opened his mouth and rubbed his tongue over the blackened, irregular stubs of his upper teeth.

“He’s a good dentist,” I said. “He has gentle hands.”

“I want to see Tanya.”

“So we have a deal?”

Before he could answer, he swung his head around. I followed his gaze. Julia and Isabel were walking toward the small opening in the gate.

Daniel ran to his mother, buried his head in her thigh.

There was something about Julia that scared me as her son held on to her leg for dear life. She was a pretty woman, and sweet, too, without a hint of violence in her. She would never willfully hurt Daniel, that was clear. But there was something else in her along with the sweetness, a weakness, and it was the weakness that scared me. I had never been a parent, true, but I had been a son, and I knew how a mother’s weakness could slice into a boy’s psyche like a knife. She couldn’t say no, Julia, she couldn’t deny candy or a night bottle to a child whose teeth were rotting before her very eyes. She would rather ignore a problem than deal with it, and if pressed, she would rather run. That’s why she had been avoiding Isabel, running whenever Social Services planned a visit. And that’s what she would do if I started pressing her on her missing daughter. She’d run, and she’d take my client with her.

So when she came through the fence and Daniel ran to her, I didn’t rush forward and start badgering her about her missing daughter, about Tanya, demanding to know what had happened to her, where she had gone, threatening to call the police. No, that’s not what I did, even though it was a struggle to hold myself back. No, what I did instead was smile.

“How was he?” she said as I approached.

“He was terrific,” I said. I tousled his hair. “He’s a great kid. Julia, I spoke to a dentist about Daniel’s teeth. He says you shouldn’t give him a bottle in the crib before he goes to bed.”

“It’s the only way he’ll sleep. He’s been a bad sleeper since he was born.”

“It’s really terrible for the teeth. You need to stop. The dentist also told me you need to have someone examine Daniel.”

“I can’t afford a dentist.”