Cafe con Leche

Café con leche, yo quiero pasar                          

Por un parquecito en la capital

Yo quiero beber, yo quiero comprar—

—me un cafecito en la capital

“Again, Mommy, again!” Bebe clapped her hands. “Again! Again!”

“Ok baby, but first, you have to tell me something.”

Bebe looked up at her mother and nodded. “What is it, Mommy?”

“You have to tell me what your most favorite thing in the whole wide world is.”

Bebe looked down so she could think. She looked back up at her mother.

“My favoritist thing in the whole wide world?”

Her mother nodded back. Bebe looked away again, straight off into the distance.

Hmm… She thought to herself. What could my favoritist thing be?

She started checking things off her list, matching each item to one of her fingers.

One, two, three

Pigs, puppies, mommy

Four, five, six

The floor, the beehive, my crib

“Any ideas yet, honey?”

Bebe shook her head. “Not yet, Mommy. I need to keep thinking.”

“Ok, sweetheart, take your time.”

Bebe continued counting her fingers.

Seven, eight, nine

Heaven, wait, fine

And then there’s ten

That must be the end

Bebe sat for a moment staring at her fingers splayed in front of her.

How do you count more than ten if you only have ten fingers? She thought to herself.

She looked up at her mother. “Mommy, I counted all my fingers, but I still don’t know what my favoritist thing is.”

“Ok sweetie. Why don’t we try something else?”

Bebe nodded.

“Close your eyes for me and picture your happiest day.”

Bebe did as her mother said.

“Do you feel warm or cold?”

“Both,” Bebe replied.

Her mother chuckled softly. “Both, baby. That sounds magical. Tell me about that.”

“Well, I’m in my snowsuit standing under the snowflakes. I can feel it’s cold outside, but I’m warm on the inside.”

“Oh, yes. I know that feeling. That is wonderful.”

“It is, Mommy! It’s the best! When is it going to snow again?”

“Soon baby. It’s only March, so we still have a little ways to go.”

Bebe nodded.

“Alright, close your eyes again for me.”

“They’re still closed, Mommy.”

“Oh ok! Let me close mine again then.”

Bebe shrieked. “Mommy! You peeked! You’re not supposed to do that.”

“Sorry baby. Let me try again. Ok, where were we?”

“We were picturing my happiest day, and you asked me if I felt warm or cold, and I said both.”

“Right. Ok. Is anyone there with you?”

Bebe tapped her chin. “I can’t tell. I don’t see anyone else, but I don’t feel alone.”

“Ok then. Can you tell me what you’re feeling?”

“I’m feeling happy standing under the snowflakes. They’re so pretty.”

“Describe them for me, baby.”

“Well, they’re sparkly and soft, and they all have different patterns.”

“Wow, that sounds magical.”

“It is, Mommy!”

“What else?”

“They taste good too.”

Her mother laughed. “Are you sticking your tongue out at them?”

“Yes, Mommy, so I can taste them, and they taste delicious.”

“What do they taste like?”

“Like honey.”

“Like honey? But you’ve never had honey, baby. You’re too little. How do you know what it tastes like?”

“Mommy, I’m older now than when you knew me, remember?”

“Baby, what are you talking about? You’re too little for honey. It’s dangerous for you to eat.”

“Not anymore, Mommy!”

Bebe looked up at her mother. “Mommy…did you forget again?”

“Forget what, baby?”

“Forget about what happened?”

“What do you mean, baby? What happened? Nothing happened.”

“To me.”

“Baby, you’re being silly. Nothing happened to you. You’re right here with me.”

“I know, Mommy…but I’m not really here with you.”

“Baby, come on. You stop that now. You’re right here with me. Don’t be silly.”

Bebe reached up and placed her small hand on the middle of her mother’s chest.

“No, Mommy, I’m only in here. I only live here now.”

Anna shook her head, startling herself awake. The baby blanket she had draped across her chest slid to the floor. She blinked her eyes open and fixated them on the mobile spinning above her.

Paper snowflakes, all in different shapes, sizes, and colors glittering and shimmering in the soft light of the nightlamp. She looked down at the carpeted floor and spotted a puppy and a pig lazily tucked together in the corner of the room—captured and still in their last game of make believe. She looked to her right and spotted her mountain of molded coffee cups filled to different heights with dark roast and condensed milk. She looked straight out the window to the sprawling myrtle tree on the front lawn. Amidst the leaves she spotted a bulbous nest teaming with wasps, and suddenly it all came flooding back to her.

The warm December morning. The open window as Bebe napped. The shrieks. The screams. The hot coffee burning down the side of Anna’s leg. A swarm above her precious baby’s crib.

And then in a flash, silence.

An ambulance with no purpose. A stranger’s face filled with sympathy and sorrow. An emptiness in her chest. A ringing in her ears. A lifeless form in her arms.

“Bebe, bebe,” Anna whispered softly. “Por favor, no.”

Soft weeps. The taste of salt mixing with the remnants of sweetened coffee on her tongue.

“Please, come back. Don’t leave me here all alone.”

Anna didn’t know how long she stayed like that, but it was at least long enough for her wish to come true. Eventually, a soft breath pumped back into Bebe, and she began to coo to her mother once again.

Over time, their conversations changed shape and subject, but the feeling remained the same. Inevitably though, they would reach a point in their time together when Bebe would say something to point out that she had grown up. Anna would protest, and Bebe would gently explain, recalling the memory for her mother.

Then, Anna would crumble all over again, and the process would start anew. More coffee cups. More storybooks. More games with Puppy and Piggy. More snowflakes added to the mobile.

“My Bebe loves snowflakes,” Anna would say to herself as she sat at the kitchen table folding and snipping.

“I have to make more for her.”

She would always be her baby, no matter how old, no matter how far away she was.