by Sosie Frost
“I didn’t—” I frowned. “How?”
“Who sent the cops, Evie?”
“I don’t remember.”
“We do.”
I stood, pacing the living room. Granna dead? Arrested? The facts entered my mind and immediately dissolved into misty confusion.
The only memories I had of her were good. She was a sweet, kind, fiery lady.
I would never have hurt her.
I would never have hurt anyone.
Why would I have sent the police?
And how the hell could I have loved a man as crass and rude as him?
This was all wrong. None of it made sense.
“Are you hungry?” I forced the words out. “I’ll order us a pizza.”
“Whatever.”
“What do you want on it?”
“Cheese.”
“Anything else?”
Darnell stretched out on the couch. “No.”
“Pineapple?”
“That’s some bullshit, baby.”
My hackles rose. This wasn’t right. Not at all.
I used to fight the man from my memories for that last slice of pizza. We’d flip a coin for it. Rock/Paper/Scissors. Guilt each other.
I sucked in a breath. “So…we dated a long time?”
“Yeah. You liked the D.”
Yeah. D for Doubtful. “Did we used to go out?”
“With what money?”
I swallowed. “But like…we had to do something. Dates. Did I live with you?”
“We crashed sometimes.”
“What about Friday nights?”
“What about it?”
“Did we do anything special?”
“Fuck.”
That wasn’t the answer I hoped for. “What?”
“Ain’t that special?”
“Yeah, cause a night with you must have been filled with Hallmark moments.”
He shrugged. “You got full of something.”
“What about when we got pregnant?”
He snorted. “Yeah. That was a problem.”
“A problem?”
“Ain’t it always?”
No.
Not at all. Not what I remembered.
We had been excited. Thrilled. I remembered his arm curling over my belly, pressing where our baby had begun to grow. We’d kissed. Made plans.
Made love.
“Weren’t we happy?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged but sensed my frustration. “Yeah. Yeah, you were. Got all excited about the kid.”
“Really.”
“All you talked about.”
I knocked his feet off the coffee table. “Did I get the nursery ready?”
“We didn’t have room for a nursery.”
Lies.
“But I must have prepared.” I frowned. “Did we have a name picked out?”
Darnell grinned. “Junior.”
“Junior?”
“Yeah. After his old man.”
He was lying.
Six months ago, I awoke in the hospital, nearly flattened by the truck, covered with pink paint. I had been working on a nursery for a little girl.
I pulled Clue’s ribbon from my pocket, letting the pink flowers on the band dangle before his face.
“Junior, huh?” I stepped closer, practically snarling. “I’ll give you ten seconds to get the fuck out of my home.”
Darnell swore. “Okay. Evie, wait.”
“Ten.”
“I’m not your fiancé.”
“Nine.” I pointed at the door. “Eight.”
“I thought there’d be a reward.”
“Seven.”
“Shit. Let me explain.”
“Get the hell out.”
“You really don’t remember me?”
“I’m going to call the cops.”
His smile faded. “Yeah. That I believe. You’re good at that.”
“I don’t know who the hell you are, but if you ever come near me again, I swear to God, I’ll send you straight to hell.”
“Don’t gotta do that.” He extended his arms and walked to the door. “Hell is where the heart is now…thanks to you. Granna’s gone. There ain’t no safe place on the block.” He waved a hand over my apartment. “At least you can rest your pretty head good tonight. If you can sleep after what you did. You’re fucking lucky you don’t remember the shit you pulled.”
“Three, two, one. Get out.”
“Just know…we sure as hell remember you.” Darnell grinned. “And ain’t no one coming back, ain’t no one looking for a traitor like you.”
Darnell didn’t fight me. He swore as I slammed the door on him, catching his heel against the wood. I didn’t care. I locked the door and threw the chain over it, slamming a hand against the frame as he laughed from the hall.
Clue’s cries carried over the apartment.
“Damn it…” I pushed away from the door. “This isn’t happening.”
My baby waited for me with teary eyes and grabby hands, begging for me to pick her up and hold her close.
Poor thing didn’t realize I needed the hug more.
I cradled her in my arms, pulling her out of the crib. My legs were too weak to hold us both. I knelt on the floor. Clue sat upright, tears gone, grinning as her momma sat beside her to play. One multi-colored plastic key ring and teddy bear later, and Clue’s chubby cheeks and squeals should have been enough to cheer me up.
Not this time.
Not now.
She banged the keys against the floor, giggling as they rattled. Her roly-poly legs kicked, and she nearly toppled over backwards in glee.
“Oh ah eeeeeee.” Her commands were becoming quite pronounced. Sit me up. Give me toys. Smile. Feed me. Diapers. “Eeeeeeeeee!”
I gave her feet a tickle, my words trapped in a breathless plea. “I’m so sorry, Clue.”
She didn’t seem to mind. Her grin widened, and she nibbled on her keys with a drooly bite. Her butt scooted across the floor, but she hadn’t figured out how to crawl just yet.
“I thought he’d be the one.” I snuggled her closer, giving her sides a little tickle. “I really did.”
“Ieee ah.” She answered and threw the keys down. This traumatized her, and her face crinkled with the beginning of a cry until I returned the plastic to her hand. She then threw it again.
I leaned down, giving her a kiss. “Between the two of us? I’m glad he wasn’t your daddy.”
Clue agreed, bobbing her head. I pulled the headband from my pocket and held her still, replacing the pink between her bounding curls.
“There you go,” I said. Her eyebrows furrowed, but she let the headband stay. “So pretty!”
Like I had to tell her that.
My baby was beautiful. Sweet. A goddamned gift to me, despite the presents she left in her diaper. But no matter how much she meant to me—no matter how much joy and love and purpose she blessed me with…
I could do nothing else for her.
I fed her. Clothed her. Comforted her. Loved her.
But I had no daddy to give her. No home to provide for her. No past to offer her.
And I had no idea what future I could give.
“I think we’re on our own, Clue…” My words whispered, heartbroken and straining. “No one is coming for us.”
And that wasn’t fair.
I didn’t care about me. I could be heartbroken. I could be alone. But her? This innocent, beautiful baby?
She deserved a family.
We were alone. We had been alone for so long. No one had looked for us. No one had gone to the media. No one went to the police.
Because no one was missing me.
The paint on my hands in the hospital? My own attempt to make a nursery.
Six months of endless searching? The denial to accept that I was alone.
The memories that wouldn’t come? A fragile mind protecting me from the truth.
Whatever had happened in my past, whatever fam
ily I lost and lives I destroyed was my own fault. My mind sheltered me from a truth that must have been…terrible.
No money. No family. No home.
And a beautiful, fatherless baby who had no idea that her world should have been so much bigger. Should have been so much better. Should have been brighter, safer, and made for her.
I had loved someone. Once. That much I knew. I felt it, and I remembered it.
But from the very first feelings that flooded back, I knew what I had done.
The man I loved was gone. I’d pushed him from my life.
And this was my consequence.
No one was coming for me.
And it was all my fault.
16
I let myself grieve for a past I lost and a future I didn’t deserve.
I deserved that moment of mourning.
But I refused to wallow in misery for longer than an hour. Not when the baby needed to be fed, her diaper changed, and my life restarted.
People always said that when life closed a door, someone opened a window.
Well, fuck the window and door. It was time to take a sledge-hammer to the damn wall. I was taking what was mine. A beautiful happy life with a man who protected and watched over and cared for me and my baby.
Shepard had been right. And he’d love to hear me say it. The interview was a mistake, and the man claiming to be my fiancé a scam artist who only wanted money.
Well, tonight, Shepard would get a heartfelt apology.
No one was coming for me? Fantastic. That meant that I could chase after him.
I checked the time. Ten o’clock at night. Not the best moment to travel with a baby. At least I had a sense of adventure.
I packed Clue up in her stroller and stuffed a handful of onesies and dresses in her diaper bag. An extra package of diapers fit in the stroller’s basket. The greatest invention since the epidural was a mommy purse—a caddy that hooked to the stroller with pockets for everything from diaper cream to a caramel frappuccino. Diapers, wipes, extra binkies, blankets, an umbrella. I shoved it all in there.
“If Shepard won’t answer his phone…” I glanced over the living room, narrowing my eyes on her Pack N Play. Perfect. “We’ll go get him.”
The contraption seemed more mouse trap than baby furniture, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and sometimes exhausted mommas needed to jail their kid while making dinner. Clue hadn’t snuck a shiv into the Pack N Play yet, but I still patted down the walls and mattresses to ensure she hadn’t dug an escape hole.
I had no idea how long it would take me to apologize to Shepard, and Clue would need a place to rest. It was coming too.
If I could dismantle it first.
Supposedly the Pack N Play actually packed. I tossed the mattress pad out and attempted to kick the middle bar up first. No go. I leaned over the side, tugged, and nearly fell face first into the mesh as the leg jammed.
Most of Clue’s toys and equipment came with age-related warnings and choking hazards. No one had warned me to avoid impaling myself on her damn portable crib.
If it wasn’t a diaper genie, it wasn’t worth dying for.
I grabbed the middle leg and pulled. Too hard. The crib supernova collapsed in the middle. The legs bent—I think that was supposed to happen—and the entire contraption collapsed onto its side. I stared at it. Somehow the whole thing was intended to fold up to be the size of a backpack.
Yeah, right.
I seized the arm and wrestled for the release. Did it jiggle, or was that my arm clinging to the last bit of baby weight?
I squeezed.
The joint squeaked and collapsed on my finger. I squealed, falling to my knees.
The word nearly wrenched from my lips. “Sh—”
Clue stared at me, alert, listening, and learning.
This episode of motherhood futility was brought to her by the letter S for Shucks! That really smarts!
I sucked on my wounded finger. So the crib demanded a blood sacrifice to pack up. At least the messy business was done. I aimed for the opposite arm with the same hesitance I gave a can of ready-to-bake biscuits pounded on the counter. One good pop and I ducked my hand out of the way before motherhood gave me another blister.
I folded where it said to fold, pinched where it wanted to be pinched, even slapped it around a bit and called it the name it liked to be called. But the side-rails didn’t want to close, the mesh tied itself in a knot, and the squeal of metal wasn’t the soothing twinkle-time music that rocked Clue to sleep.
Too damn bad.
I grabbed the mattress pad and wrapped that sucker up. When the Velcro didn’t take, I looked for the next best thing. I didn’t have rope, but I found some heavy-duty support guaranteed to strap up heavier objects than a Pack N Play.
A nursing bra.
I tied the bra over the crib and stretched the material. Fortunately, my luscious ladies had transformed in the weeks after Clue’s birth. The bra was of adequate size to double as both trebuchet and locking mechanism for unwieldy portable crib.
I tossed the bra around the legs and latched the back with a grunt.
“Yeah. Not very comfortable, is it?” I kicked the crib. “Welcome to my world.”
The cover slid on with only minimal protest, and I zipped it up before the pressure burst and the nursery detonated over my living room in a lullaby cacophony. Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall. Humpty Dumpty got smacked in the face with nipple balm and immediately ran for a vasectomy.
So far so good. Diaper bag. Pack N Play. I could leave now.
Except…her play mat.
Damn it. Clue loved the little activity center with the dangling, multi-colored toys and shapes. She rocked tummy time under it, spending ten or fifteen blissful minutes completely absorbed by the hanging toys. It was great for mommas who needed to have a serious conversation that didn’t involve diaper dialog or tata tête-à-têtes.
The play mat was coming too. I folded it up. This would be a trick. The Pack N Play strapped over my shoulder. The diaper bag hung from the other. I looped the folded mat over my elbow, using the arched mobile as a handle.
This was a good style. Momma on the go.
Or bag lady.
I definitely busted out with a homeless look over the appearance of a well-groomed Pinterest mom, but time wasn’t my friend. Shepard hadn’t answered his phone. He didn’t know what had happened. How I felt. What I’d decided.
No matter what happened in the past, I had a bright future ahead of me.
And I wanted to experience it with him.
I grabbed the bundles of baby supplies and locked the door behind me. It took me three steps before I realized I’d forgotten the most important thing of all.
The damned kid.
I returned to her stroller with a dozen apologies and promises for milk and/or therapy, whichever she preferred. Clue forgave me with a bright smile and kicking legs.
The bulky bags and supplies weighed me down the instant I hit the street, cluttering the sidewalk and accidentally beaning the few couples who scoured the city in search for a late-night date spot. Closer to my apartment, they looked for coffee houses. By the time I reached the bus stop—sweating and panting—they stumbled out of bars.
Clue gurgled in the stroller. She was right. I did seem a little manic. Not many moms turtled themselves in a mobile nursery in the middle of the night to declare their feelings for a man who wasn’t their child’s father. All I needed was a shopping cart and a cardboard sign proclaiming the end times, and I’d look as crazy as I felt. Question remained: did I go with The End Is Coming or Brought To You By Pampers?
The bus was one of the last running for the night. Fortunately, it was empty. The driver opened the door, but his eyes bugged out of his head as he looked at me.
“Lady…what are you doing?”
I didn’t have a bus pass, but I’d remembered to drop a couple dollars in the stroller. I unsuccessfully fished around the pocket before dropping half of my nursery
with a grunt. I patted the blanket under Clue.
For some reason, the five-dollar bill had migrated to her diaper. I hoped that wasn’t a sign of her future.
Well, that was the point of tonight. We turned dollars and g-strings into picket fences and puppy dogs. Hopefully.
I dropped the money with the driver and hauled the stroller to the bus stairs. The rest of my stuff cluttered behind me, tangling on the railing and nearly sling-shotting me off the damn bus. A stuffed star from the mobile didn’t survive the tussle. It bounced off the ramp and into the street. Every battle risked casualties. Little Twinkle’s sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain.
Especially since the Pack N Play smacked off an aggravated business man in a suit, nearly decapitated an elderly grandma protecting herself with two knitting needles and a popcorn stitch, and interrupted a rather hot and heavy moment between two teens.
“Hey!” The teenaged boy grumbled. “Watch it.”
I pointed to the baby. “You want this to happen to you? Hands to yourself, bae. And an aspirin between your knees, chica.”
The two glanced at the baby supplies, reevaluated their plans for the evening, and snuck apart. I turned only once their iPhones successfully flicked on.
This was it.
I crossed town at ten thirty at night, sent Shepard a warning text, and prepared for…
I didn’t know what, but I knew it’d be the best decision I’d ever made.
For six months, my life had been a haze of confusion and baby powder. I’d lived with total uncertainly, waiting for my life to begin again.
I only realized now that it hadn’t ended. I had all the opportunities in the world to make it better.
I had no memories, but I could make new ones.
All three of us.
Together.
The closest stop to Shepard’s house was six blocks away, but I leapt at the opportunity. I unknotted my baby supplies from the seats, apologized to the poor folks I clobbered on the way off the bus, and ran to catch Clue as I’d forgotten to unbrake the stroller as she nearly rocketed off the bus ramp.
Shepard’s home was a cute townhouse. Not small, but cozy. The exterior was a classic brownstone, complete with charming staircase to the front door. The windows had been shuttered and meticulously painted. White. Bright and inviting.
Exactly the type of home I would have wanted.
