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Still, I have to be careful not to spoil her. That tends to happen often with single moms, they say. Especially with girls as fragile as she is …
Images of her lying on a cold, hard bed while relying on machines come to mind. The tears still sting my eyes when I think of the nights I spent bawling at her side. I quickly brush them away. She’s doing so well these days.
I smile as she rolls the cart away with a grin on her face. It seems to go fine, so I quickly turn around to close the trunk. However, when I turn around to look for her again, she’s standing still near the collection of carts … talking with a man.
It’s him.
“Daisy!” I yell.
But she doesn’t turn; she doesn’t even seem to notice me. She can’t hear me all the way across the parking lot.
I rush toward them, not giving a shit that my car is still unlocked.
He’s leaning over, handing her something. I can’t see what it is except that it’s wrapped in a newspaper. It could be anything—something dangerous for all I know—so I snatch it out of her hands and throw it aside, then drag her away with me. I don’t say a word to him.
He was about to hand her a card as well. I don’t know what it said, and I’m not interested in it either. I just want to get as far away from here as fast as possible.
To think she almost … no, I refuse to let my mind go there. “What did I say about taking things from strangers?” I hiss.
“Strangers?” she mutters, gaping at me with her big brown eyes. “But Mommy, he—”
“No,” I repeat, grasping her hand. “We’re leaving.”
“Wait!” she says, and she manages to rip away from me.
She hastily fishes the newspaper package from the ground and runs back toward me, but not before throwing a wistful glance at him. All I can do is stare and fume.
I’m lucky she returns to me. Still, it doesn’t put me at ease. Not even a little bit. Not with him around. What is he doing here? How does he know where we are? Why can’t he leave us alone?
“Lillian!” His voice breaks every train of thought I have.
I turn and shout, “Leave us alone!”
He follows us all the way back to my car. “I just wanna talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I reply as I swiftly push Daisy into the car. “Sit down, honey, and don’t get out.”
“Please, you have to give me a chance to explain,” he says, still trying to come closer.
“Don’t,” I say, holding up one finger.
For some reason, this makes him stop. That, or my unapologetic glare. I probably look murderous. That’s because I am.
“What are you even doing here?” I ask, my voice breaking. “Can’t you just leave us be?”
The desperation must be visible because he stops trying to approach, which gives me enough time to get into the front seat and ram my keys into the ignition. I don’t even look as I drive off, knowing he’s still there. Vigilant. Watching over us.
“Who was that man, Mommy?” she asks.
I don’t reply. I don’t know how to answer that question.
“He was at our home too, wasn’t he?”
“Mmmhmm …” I mutter.
A crackling noise makes me look through my rearview mirror. She’s unwrapping the newspaper. I’d completely forgotten about it. Fuck.
“Throw that away, please,” I say with a stern voice. It could be a weapon for all I know. Whatever it is, it can’t be good.
“No,” she says with a soft voice, almost as if she’s about to cry.
I gaze through the mirror again. My eyes widen.
It’s a plush toy. A stuffed blue penguin.
“Can I keep it?” she asks, her eyes lighting up. “Please?”
For a second there, all I wanna do is scream and shout. No. No. No!
But I don’t.
It’d make her unhappy, and I don’t ever want to see her unhappy. She deserves every ounce of lighthearted fun in her life. And if this toy is what she wants, how can I say no?
“All right, all right,” I say with a lopsided smile.
“Yay!” She hugs the toy tight. “Thanks, Mommy!”
“And promise me you won’t ever talk to strangers like that again,” I add, cocking my head at her.
“I promise,” she says, still snuggling with the soft penguin. “But Mommy …”
The way her voice chirps up at the end makes goose bumps scatter on my skin.
I already know what she’s going to say, but it doesn’t make it any less hard to take.
“That man … He wasn’t a stranger, was he?”
* * *
Hanson
I wish I could’ve given her more than merely a stuffed toy.
With a sigh, I stare at the car as it disappears down the street.
For a second there, I thought about chasing them. But that wouldn’t be right even though it takes every ounce of self-control not to do exactly that.
