by Sosie Frost
He parked the car, but neither of us spoke.
It was probably a blessing. I was wasting time with foolish questions that had no answers. Nothing was going to flash inspiration into my head. When the truck hit me, he left a carton of vanilla ice cream where my memories should have been. Now I had to wait for it to melt.
And then mop up the sticky, terrible messes it left.
A few families waited at the pediatrician’s office even this early in the morning.
On the left, a mother shooed her toddler from her paisley dress, content to check her iPad while the little boy shoved the office’s Legos and building blocks into his mouth.
A second mother sat to the right. She managed a five-year-old girl, three-year-old boy, and tumbling toddler boy with a sigh, snap of her fingers, and piece of gum bribe.
Shepard touched my arm. “I’m going to call the station. I’ll be outside if you need me.”
I nodded and took a seat next to the paisley mom and her toddler. She lowered her iPad and snuck a peek at Clue.
“She’s precious,” she said. “Your first?”
“As far as I know.”
“Savor this time. It goes so fast.”
I had nothing to compare it to, so I simply nodded. Her son performed a summersault and gnawed on another block. She didn’t seem to notice.
“Her first cold?” she asked.
“Yeah. Last night was…” At least I could answer with full honesty. “Probably the worst of my life.”
“The first time is always hard. It gets easier.” She knocked the block out of her son’s hand, but she failed to reign him in before he started nibbling on the office’s fern in the corner. “Tell you what I do. Just take a little Vick’s Rub and dab it over her chest. Not a lot, but it’ll help to open her up. Put it on the feet inside her onesie too. It’ll help her breathe.”
“Oh.” I made a mental note. “Thanks. I can grab some on the way home.”
“You do all you can for them.” Her smile faded as she yanked her child away from the plant. She tugged him onto her lap and pulled a leaf out of his mouth. “And here we are, getting a quarter out of your belly. At least you had some roughage.”
Clue gave a quiet whine. I excused myself with her diaper bag. One quick change later, and I had a drier, yet still miserable, baby in my arms. Poor thing hadn’t eaten yet. I figured she’d want some breakfast, but my chair was taken by Paisley and her toddler. The mother emptied her purse, counting the change with an exasperated sigh.
“Another nickel, Aiden? You’re eating your entire college fund!”
The chair in the opposite corner was free and without hungry toddlers. I covered Clue and gave her the go ahead to eat. She fussed instead.
I couldn’t blame her.
“Poor thing.” The second mother wrangled her kids with a sharp clap and collapsed next to me. Her three-year-old clung to her leg, the five-year-old read aloud from an upside-down Reader’s Digest, and her toddler emerged from the bathroom with a trail of toilet paper. “You know, when my little ones were sick, they didn’t always want to eat. I gave them a bottle with some water, and that got us through a lot of nights. Gotta keep them hydrated.”
That made sense. “I think she’s congested. Hard to eat that way.”
“That happens. You should use those little nose suckers to help clear her up.”
I had no idea what she was talking about. “I was going to dab her with Vicks when we go home.”
“What?” Wrangler mom grabbed her toddler before he wrapped the entire waiting room in toilet paper. “You can’t use Vicks. That’s bad for baby.”
“It…it is?”
“Yes! It can irritate her airway. They might swell up, and she wouldn’t be able to breathe at all!”
Oh, dear sweet Jesus. “I…I didn’t know that.”
“Don’t use Vicks.”
“Wow.” I glanced across the room. “We should tell her. She doesn’t know.”
“Know what?” Paisley mom let her kid escape from the chair. She zipped her purse tight before he went for the coins. “What’s wrong?”
“Vicks.” I said. “It’s bad for babies.”
She scoffed. “No, it’s not. It’s perfectly safe.”
Wrangler mom shook her head. “It’s an irritant. It closes airways.”
“It’s menthol. It opens airways.”
“Not for little children. It’s dangerous.”
Paisley rolled her eyes. “I used it on my son. He’s fine.”
He looked okay for a walking piggy bank. I shrugged.
Wrangler gave another huff and reached for a magazine. “If you want to risk your child’s health, go right ahead.”
“Excuse me?”
Uh-oh. This was going nowhere good.
Paisley Mom crossed her arms. “My children are fine. So are my brother and sister’s kids, if you must know. We all use Vicks, and everyone has come out of the sniffles no worse for the wear.”
“Okay.” Wrangler faked a pleasant smile. “I’d rather be safe than lucky, but that’s between you and your husband.”
“And what would you recommend for a congested baby? Saline?”
“When my children were babies?” She waved over the gaggle of kids. “They had saline. They had nose suckers. And I made sure they stayed hydrated.”
“Hydrated?” Paisley grimaced. “With what?”
Wrangler huffed. “Water. What are you hydrating your kids with? More chemicals?”
“You gave them water?”
“In a bottle.”
“You can’t give them water!”
Well, fuck me. Now I had no freaking idea what to do for my baby.
The women were content to ignore each other now, but I couldn’t reach my cell phone to Google why water was apparently forbidden.
It was dumb to speak. “Isn’t water good?”
Paisley sighed. “She’ll get plenty of water from breast milk. Giving her any more will cause electrolyte imbalances.”
Great. In the span of five minutes I had almost destroyed my child’s respiratory and digestive system. I was better off camping under her crib like a freak.
Fortunately, general disorder and thinly veiled condescension somehow pleased Clue. She nestled against me and started to eat. Figured. At least I couldn’t mess that up.
Or I hadn’t.
Yet.
This was turning into one hell of a day.
Shepard stepped into the office just as the receptionist called my name. He glanced at the warring ladies, stepped through the commotion, and gave me a piercing glance.
“What did you do?” he asked.
“Why me?”
“Because I know you.”
Paisley marched over to Wrangler. “Look lady. I won’t tell you how to raise your kids, you don’t tell me how to medicate mine.”
“Maybe you better ask Google how to do it then!” Wrangler said. “Have you ever read a parenting book?”
“I’m sorry. I raise my children the way I was brought up, not how some scientist thinks I should care for my boy.”
I tugged on Shepard’s arm. “Let’s go.”
“I thought you couldn’t nurse and walk?” he asked.
Well, I sure as hell wasn’t unlatching the baby in range of Mommy Mayhem 2016. “I’ll figure it out. If it gets bumpy, we’ll just call it a milkshake.”
The nurse was all too eager to settle the quarrel in the waiting room. She quickly led us to a quiet room, then returned to referee the brawl.
I sat in the corner, letting Clue finish her breakfast.
“Seems like she’s doing better,” Shepard said.
I wished. “No. She’s not feeling good.”
“How can you tell?”
Hell if I knew. “I can’t explain it. Just a feeling.”
He checked his phone, buzzing with a text. Instead of answering, he dismissed the message and shoved the phone in his pocket. He didn’t sit, but he tried to give me a bit of privacy with her.
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Was it wrong or bad or just plain terrible that I didn’t feel uncomfortable with him there?
“I think you’re doing great with her,” he said.
“I hope so.”
“I’m serious.” He looked down. “Makes me feel better.”
“Why?”
“Because I wasn’t there.”
I stiffened. “You thought you had to keep an eye on me?”
“No. I wanted to…” He exhaled, hard. “Be a part of it. Do whatever I could to make it easier for you. But it doesn’t seem like you need help.”
“I’m still terrified, Shepard. Especially listening to her all congested? It just…” I stroked her pudgy cheek, watching as she paced her swallows. I doubted she even wanted to eat. It was like…
She just wanted to be close to her momma.
And it didn’t matter that I had no memories. That I was a mess. That I was alone.
She had me.
And that meant the world to both of us.
“I mean, look at this little face.” I sucked in a breath. “She’s so cute I want to die.”
“Please don’t,” Shepard said.
“I have no plans to OD on adorable, thank you very much.”
“Good.” Shepard’s voice lowered. “If something happened to you or Clue…I’d be...”
My heart peaced out. Flipped and dropped and performed feats of acrobatics that I had only vainly attempted from a couple workout routines on YouTube.
Fortunately, the doctor interrupted my coronary. The door swung open, and he gave the chart a quick look-over before greeting us.
“There’s our little Suzette.”
Shepard groaned. “You didn’t change it yet?”
What was I going to call her instead? I’d get laughed out of the Social Security office if I named the kid Clue.
Doctor Reece glanced at his paperwork. “Evie, nice to see you again. Any change with your condition?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, it’ll come. And you must be…” He glanced at Shepard. “This little girl’s father?”
I cleared my throat, but the gargling choke wasn’t as discreet as I’d have liked. “Oh no. He’s not…we’re not…”
“I’m Shepard.” He shook the doctor’s hand. “I’m…just a friend.”
The doctor knew not to ask too many questions. He gestured for me to hand her over.
And even that broke my heart. I turned away and fixed my clothes while he weighed her and took her temperature.
“She’s gaining weight. In the healthy range.” He winked. “You’re doing good.”
“Well, I didn’t want to tell her she had chubby thighs,” I said. “I’d hop from here to the child therapist across the hall.”
He chuckled. “I’m not worried about you doing anything wrong.”
“You’d be surprised. There’s so much advice out there. And everyone is telling you something different—”
The bellowing echoed out from the waiting room.
“Don’t put Vicks on babies!”
The return shriek heralded the wail of crying children.
“Don’t give babies water!”
I flinched. So did Doctor Reece.
“See?” He shook his head. “Plenty of schools of thought when it comes to childcare. As far as I’m concerned, you’re doing everything right.”
“But she’s sick.”
“Babies get sick,” he said. “It’ll be a couple long, miserable days while she recovers, but keep breastfeeding. You’re giving her antibodies to help combat the illness. Plus the skin on skin contact soothes her…and momma too, I bet. You can get a humidifier for her room to help as well.”
I nodded, quickly. “Okay. What else?”
“Don’t check your watch. She’ll fight it off on her own time.”
He examined her ears, her heart, and gave her a once over before wrapping my wailing baby up and handing her to me.
“And?” Shepard asked.
“It’s a cold,” he said. “Nothing to worry about.”
The shouting rumbled through the office. “No Vicks!”
I sucked in a breath. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he said.
“No water!”
“Positive?”
“Yes.”
“It’s not kuru?”
Doctor Reece frowned. “Just what do you think is in your breast milk?”
Shepard squeezed my shoulder. “Thank you, Doctor. Sorry for the emergency visit, but we were concerned.”
The pounding on the door startled us all. A nurse burst inside, clutching a stethoscope, a rolled-up magazine, and a ripped piece of paisley fabric.
“Doctor, I’m sorry, but we have a—”
The enraged screams of two overly exhausted women pierced the hall. The cries preceded a tremendous crash, the wails of children, and the excited cursing of every nurse in the office. Two grabbed patient files and burst out the emergency exit to safety. One particularly brave woman grabbed her phone and started recording before she rushed into the waiting room.
The nurse stared at the doctor. “We should call the police.”
Shepard pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t bother. I’m a cop. I’ll handle it.”
He motioned for me to wait and assisted the nurse, racing head-long into…
World War Mommy.
The battle began with a runny nose, lost binkie, and a deafening song from Frozen rattling the windows. Both mothers squared off an inch from each other’s faces.
Wrangler made the first move, whipping Paisley with the strap of her purse. Paisley grabbed it, yanking it away before it smacked her again. That only rained the wrath of the diaper bag on her. Wrangler let loose, pummeling her with the unzipped baby bag.
Diapers launched. Two popped into a ceiling fan only to be flung across the room, smacking a toddler and crashing into an anniversary flower arrangement at the stunned receptionist’s desk.
“Bottle feeder!” Paisey yelled.
Wrangler grunted. “Vicks rubber!”
“Let it go, let it go!”
The bag crashed once more over Paisley. A jolted container of baby powder sneezed a curtain of billowing whiteness over the waiting room. The blizzard of powder plumed over both women. They screamed.
Then sneezed.
Then shrieked again.
“…can’t hold it back anymore…”
“You use powder?” Paisley screeched. “That can cause lung problems!”
“I’ve used it for three children!”
“It’s a miracle they survived!”
Wrangler struck again. A plastic container of wet naps crashed to the floor. The two toddlers exacted their revenge, ripping wipe after wipe from the container, flinging them into the air.
Unfortunately, Paisley’s boy grabbed a block instead. He launched it across the room. It struck Wrangler’s five-year-old in the mouth.
She promptly spit out a baby tooth.
And squealed in abject horror.
The five-year-old blustered into a tantrum, pitching the lost tooth at her younger siblings and rushing head-first into the wall. She attempted to rip her skirt, overturn the toddler’s tower of blocks, and take out her frustrations on an old copy of Vanity Fair. The mothers both shouted as she climbed a chair with a furious roar. Shepard raced across the room to catch her before she tumbled, but her hand flailed over the wall. She grabbed the first thing she could find to stabilize herself.
The fire alarm.
Sirens wailed. Lights flashed. The sprinkler system immediately burst, and a shower of ice-cold water poured over the entire waiting room. I tucked Clue closer to my breast.
The kids screamed louder, rushing in hyper circles, half-yelling, half-chanting to the song on loop blaring from the iPad.
“…the cold never bothered me anyway…”
Shepard lowered the girl to the ground, but he braced himself with a copy of Better Homes and Garden before approaching the women
.
“Ladies…” His voice steadied, soft but commanding. “Let’s take a step back, okay?”
Paisley had none of it. “Co-sleeper!”
Wrangler fumed. “Juice giver!”
“Ladies—”
“…It's time to see what I can do…”
The diaper bag swung again. Candy exploded from one pocket, quarters from another, and the children danced under a piñata of disorderly conduct.
The Jolly Ranchers were collected first. Paisley’s boy-turned-vending-machine gobbled fifty cents worth of dimes before grabbing at a lollipop.
“Disposable diaperer!” Paisley shouted.
“Pacifier lover!”
“Butt Powderer!”
“Coin Eater!”
“…Let the storm rage on…”
Shepard ducked as the bag swung again. The handle ripped off, and the contents hurled into the wall. It crashed against a framed picture of a cartoon kitten and puppy, both wearing bandages and gnawing on thermometers. The glass shattered as the frame crashed to the ground.
“Momma, the kitty!” The toothless five-year-old bellowed.
“No!” The toddler squealed. “Puppy!”
“Shut up, Braydon! Kitties are better!”
“Puppy!”
Wrangler launched for Paisley’s hair. “Formula feeder!”
“Caesarian Getter!”
“I had complications!”
“…Let the storm rage on…”
“Mommy!” The five-year-old pitched the iPad. It crashed into the fish tank.
The glass shattered, and a deluge of water poured from the tank, scattering shells, coral, salt-water, and fish to all corners of the waiting room.
Every child stilled, horrified.
“Nemo!”
“Enough!” Shepard shouted above them all. Everyone sit down! Kids. Get the fish. Put them in water.”
When Wrangler attempted another slap, Shepard intercepted her hand and guided her to a seat.
“Calm down.” Shepard silenced crazed mothers, children, doctors, and nurses alike.
The only one he couldn’t convince to stay quiet? A tremendously inconvenienced and now damp Clue. I covered her as best I could, but the sprinklers raged a torrent of water over the fight.
Shepard pointed at the women, the water mixing with the powder to cover them both in sticky paste. “You’re lucky I don’t haul you all down to the station to finish this godda—darn fight.”
