Mom

The wind howls through the narrow seams between panes of glass, snowflakes slamming against the windows and the door repeatedly, as if rocks were being hucked with the intent of shattering the material into a million pieces, all to be strewn about by footsteps between the aisles. If there were any footsteps, of course. 

I’m alone in the supermarket. Who shops during a blizzard? I do, of course. Well, I’m not really shopping, I’m not looking for things to satisfy some passing desire: no chips or tiny donuts or energy drinks. I was hoping to pick up a prescription. But, now that I’m here, now that I’ve left the house and walked through the torrential snowfall, frost weighing upon my shoulders with every second spent in that frigid wasteland, I realize that the pharmacy is not open. 

Why should the pharmacy be open in a blizzard? The market itself is hardly open; it’s been this way for quite some time. Windows barely holding together, a few of which are just boards. Just boards that shift and shimmy within their allocated frames as the wind pounds against them.

After the robbery last month, with the shattered windows and obliterated registers, I’m not surprised to not find a single worker. Although, I was hoping that perhaps a prescription could be picked up, that maybe a worker could go into the back of the pharmacy and get it for me. I wanted to have it before Dan got home and began to worry. Worry that it had been too long since I had taken my last dose. Worry that I might need to be rushed to the hospital.

He says that he is barely able to keep me around, that I’m putting too much of a strain on him. That I’m a burden. I understand it, of course; it is a reasonable point of view. I’ve been staying with him for a few months now; we had always talked about moving in together, taking our relationship to the next step. Well, I suppose I always talked about it. He was more reluctant, I think, but eventually we decided it was what was best for us. But now I need my prescription. 

I’m pacing back-and-forth along the aisle, my feet echoing on the empty floor, much, much louder than the snowstorm outside. The howling is nothing now, the winter wolves tamed by my nervous strutting. I make a 180-degree turn at the end of the aisle and enter the next. Surely there must be someone here, right? Tap, tap, tap. My feet continue to plod across the tile. The floor is alternating white and black squares; I’m standing on a chess board, and the fates are sliding me across the tiles, shoving me from one aisle to the next, in search of the King, in search of literally ANYONE. But, I’m alone. I’m alone. I’m alone. I’m alone. Another turn and then I see it.

There’s a baby on the floor. Well, it’s not really on the floor. It’s in a little car-seat/carrier-type of thing. I don’t know what to call it. I’ve never been great around babies. Well, that’s not entirely true. I love babies. I always have. I just don’t know enough about them. I haven’t really ever had any kids of my own. I used to babysit for my sister, before I moved in with Dan. Now, that arrangement isn’t really possible anymore. I think I did a good job taking care of my little niece and nephew. Again, I didn’t really know much about babies at the time; I still don’t. But, I think I did a good job. 

This baby is just sitting there in this little car-carrier. It’s sleeping now. I look around, but I don’t see ANYONE. It’s not mine, of course. It’s certainly not mine. But I can’t just leave it here, abandoned, in this supermarket, right? That would be amoral. Even I know that. So, I grab the little handle that bridges the space above and around the baby and gently lift the tiny person into the air. 

I need to be careful not to wake the poor little thing. Its delicate eyes flutter gently under lids; it must be dreaming. Its little lips quiver with each petite breath. Its tiny fingers curl slowly, then uncurl, with each beat of a miniscule heart. I begin walking down the aisle, looking about to make sure that I won’t step on or bump into anything noisy. Soon, I am back at the front of the store, staring out the rippling windows, at a world of pure white. 

How am I gonna keep this baby warm in that? I look around, hoping there might be an aisle for coats or hats or something; the market always carries a diverse inventory. I don’t see any nearby and quickly realize that even if I did find some coats or something warm, there was no one to pay with, no one manning the registers. So, I do the only logical thing: I gently lift the baby up and place it inside my jacket, holding it to my chest with one hand. I can feel and hear it start to stir, so I gently rock back and forth. Back and forth. I decide to leave the little carrier; I don’t need it anymore, and I know that having to hold onto something like that out in the snow will absolutely freeze my hand. I make it to the door, gently push it open, and slip out and into the torrent. 

As I enter the blizzard, I think I hear something. But there’s no one there, and so I start jogging along the thickly-snow-coated sidewalk, heading towards my home.

The baby is certainly awake now, and is emitting a low wail. But the sound is almost entirely drowned out by the howling of the wind. Its intensity is tenfold what it had been before, and I can hardly hear myself think.

My lips and nose and ears are stinging with the cold, and I am beginning to shiver violently. I keep my head planted in the ground, my hood pulled up and over my ears, and continue plunging through the snow, almost in a full sprint now. I need to get out of this cold as quickly as possible. I need to make it home. The baby is screaming now. Surely I can’t continue in these frigid conditions for much longer, and the poor little thing must be freezing, even being inside my coat. 

I’m running as fast as I can now, and I’m surrounded by pure whiteness, falling through a void in a piece of paper, doomed to be consumed by the infinite blankness. But then, just at the outer limit of my vision, I see the outline of the house. That one tree in front, whose branches are bare of leaves but buried in snow. Those shutters that hang sort of loosy-goosy on their hinges, slapping back and forth in the wind. Back and forth. The front door is unlocked. Thank God for that. And...I’m inside. 

The warmth of the house’s interior begins to flood over me, waves of calming heat that drift through my eyes and ears and mouth and nose and soak into my brain, until I fade into a world of complacency and comfort. I haven’t felt this way in...well, at least a few months. Now I’m safe, though. Now, I’m home. Now, I’m warm. And for the first time in months, I’m not alone in the middle of the day. 

I unzip my coat and pull out the little angel. It’s still crying, but it’s not too cold, and I quickly get some milk from the fridge and heat it in the microwave. Soon, the baby is drinking away, filling itself with the immeasurable safety of warm milk, as I rock it back and forth. Back and forth. 

I feel something incredible now. Something I haven’t felt in...well, at least a few months. Not since I was babysitting for Katherine. To feel the weight of a baby in your arms. To feel that life. It is something I have missed dearly. But now I can feel it again. 

The baby is asleep now. I made a little makeshift crib on my couch; I really just pushed some pillows and blankets together to make a small, nest-like structure. I think it’ll work nicely until I can get a real crib. I wonder whose baby this is. 

Who leaves her baby alone in a supermarket in a blizzard? I would never do something like that. I’m a better mother than her. She who left her baby. Abandoned it. I think I’d be a better mother than Katherine, too. I was wonderful with her children. But, now I can’t babysit anymore. She lives too far away from Dan. 

She likes Dan, though. He has always been like a brother to her. To me, too, I suppose. I mean, obviously with me it’s a little different, but he is a wonderful man. He just worries too much. About me. About her. But, I think I’d be a much better mother. I guess now I’ll get to find out for myself.

Watching the adorable little human, I contemplate reporting the lost baby to the police. But do I really want the baby to go back to its terrible mother? She just left it there. Who leaves her baby alone in a supermarket in a blizzard? I suddenly feel something cold on my leg, and realize that I never dusted myself off when I got home. I had been in such a hurry to escape the cold, and in such ecstasy at doing so, that I didn’t even notice the rings of snow around my pants, just above my shoe-lines. I go into the bathroom and start sweeping the snow off my pants. The collar of snow around my right ankle comes right off, but the collar on my left seems to be super-frozen. I know! I grab a screwdriver from the little toolbox in my garage, and pry the stuff off my pant leg. I’m free! It feels so much better without that coldness. Without that restriction and confinement and uncomfortability. 

Gently sitting down beside the baby, I turn on the TV. It’s on the news right now. Some story is breaking. Something awful. I don’t even know why I ever watch the news. It’s always just something awful. I flip through channels until I find the cartoons. I figure they’ll be good for the baby, even if they’re playing while it sleeps. I make sure to keep the volume low.

Katherine didn’t like to let her kids watch TV. But when she was out of the house I’d turn it on for her babies. I think it’s important for young children to get at least some exposure to what’s out there. I feel like Katherine didn’t understand her kids very much. I knew them. I was a great mother for them. 

I think I hear footsteps outside, but it might just be some branches tapping against the window. Tap, tap, tap. I turn up the TV a little. I don’t want all of these sounds to scare the baby. I want it to sleep and be safe. I want it to feel comfortable and loved, not abandoned, like its mother must have wanted.

I bet Katherine felt the same way. She was so strict with her kids. So possessive. Those are definitely footsteps outside. I think I hear voices, too. Shouting. I turn the TV up louder; the voices sound scary. The baby wakes up. I’m too late. It starts wailing. 

Katherine was a terrible mother. Terrible. That’s why I did it. I just wanted her kids to be safe. I wanted them to be free. Free of her tyranny. That’s why I did it. There’s a massive crash! I guess they blew the front door down. Hurried footsteps through the front room, coming this way.

The baby is screaming now. I want it to calm down. Need it to calm down. The crash really must have done it. I pick the baby up and rock it back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Vigorously. I need it to calm down. I won’t let them take it from me and deliver it back into the terrible claws of its awful “mother.” I’m its mother now. I’ve done more for this baby than she ever has. They come around the corner. Police. Guns raised. 

“Put the baby down on the couch!” I need to get out of here. “Put the baby down on the couch!!” I can’t let them take it from me. “Put the baby down!!!” I gently set the baby down. Immediately, they’re on top of me. Handcuffing me.

“You’re under arrest for kidnapping and violation of parole.” They pick me up and escort me back through the house. The baby is quiet in the other room. I guess the rocking worked. 

Dan’s there, too. He looks at me. That same look of worry. Worry. Then, I’m back out in the cold. And then, I’m in the back of a police car.

“So, Dan Harper, can you explain? Do you know why your sister broke her parole to go to the supermarket?”

“Her prescription must have run out. I was going to get some after work. I just, I guess I didn’t realize how quickly the psychosis would become so...dramatic.”

“And she’s been on this medication since….”

“Last August. Almost a year ago. After the...incident.”

“Right. Well, there’s absolutely no way she’s going to be able to remain under your care. She’s going to be taken to a treatment center.”

“She was in a treatment center after...the last time. Then they released her. They said she would be better, as long as she stayed on her medication.”

“As long as she stayed on her medication. Exactly. She pried her collar right off. That’s really what alerted us. We got word of the kidnapping at around the same time. Several people called from the supermarket. Apparently Jessica just walked up and took the baby and the carrier, set down the carrier, tucked the baby into her coat, and sprinted out into the beautiful summer day, as if there were no one else around.”

“Jesus.”

“Dan?”

“Yes?”

“How’s your sister doing?”

“What do you mean? You just-”

“Your other sister. Katherine.”

“Oh. She’s been hanging in there. I think she and Chuck are actually trying to get pregnant. I think they might finally be ready. Which reminds me. Will this all be kept...under wraps? At least as much as possible?”

“As much as possible, Mr. Harper.”

“Thank you. Word of this would send Katherine spiraling again. I just know it.”

“We’ll do our best.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, and Mr. Harper?”

“Yes?”

“I think Katherine will make a wonderful mother.”

“She is. I mean, she was. I’m sure...I’m sure she will be.”

“Of course. Of course.”