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7
Haley
The market iscrazy when I arrive. It seems like every aisle is filled with mothers pushing their children in shopping carts.
Maybe I'm more aware of the kids, or maybe it's the secret I'm keeping making me crazy.
Either way, the screaming infant in the produce section tests my patience. His mother is attempting to calm him down by thrusting a pacifier in his mouth while she feels every tomato in the bin. He's not having it. He wants attention and hers is focused elsewhere.
In that moment, I promise to never be that parent.
Sure, other things need to get done, but when your child needs you, especially at such a young age, you need to prioritize. Maybe he needs a fresh diaper. Or he's hungry.
She doesn't know, and she doesn't appear to care enough to find out. Not until she has the tomatoes in her cart. Then I watch as she dutifully goes through a mental checklist. By this time, he's screaming at the top of his lungs, tears streaming down his face.
As I steer my cart around them, I glance in her direction and notice a flustered look on her face. She can't be more than twenty years old. The diaper bag she's digging through has seen better days, and it doesn't appear she has what she needs in there.
Now I feel like shit for passing judgment on her without knowing her situation.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" I ask before I can second-guess myself.
Her head snaps up in my direction, and there's a glimmer of hope in her eye. Her smile is weary, her hair is a mess, and the baby is still crying.
"I left his bottle in the car. Would you mind watching him for a minute so I can run and grab it?"
She's trusting me? With her child? She doesn't even know me.
"Um, sure."
Backing my cart up so I'm not blocking the aisle, I stare down into the car seat and the most gorgeous blue eyes I've ever seen. He's absolutely breathtaking, and my heart skips a beat as his cries slowly soften.
Reaching in, I hold out my finger for him to grab and he latches on like his life depends on it.
"You're so good with him," the young girl says when she returns a few minutes later.
His cries have stopped completely, his focus now on cutting off the circulation to my fingertip. He's been watching me since she left.
"Thank you again," she notes as she shakes a bottle filled with off-colored milk and pops it in his mouth, propping it up with a blanket.
"Of course." Reaching into my purse for my list, I'm almost out of earshot when I hear her talk to him.
"Did you like the nice lady? She must be a good mom if she can calm you down like that."
If she only knew. I've never felt like a good mom in my life, and only time will tell if I actually am.
Loading the groceries into my trunk, I'm about to get in my car when I spot the girl and her baby again. She waves at me and pushes her cart across the parking lot to a beat-up car parked at the end of the aisle.
I feel for the girl. I couldn't help but notice the lack of a wedding ring on her finger. She looked frail, frazzled, and barely holding it together in there. Her cart was practically empty, and even though I'm sure the baby is still on a strict formula diet, there wasn't enough food in her cart to last more than two days.
Watching to make sure her piece of shit car starts, I find myself following her out of the parking lot and turning away from Chloe's house.
What am I doing?
Why am I following her?
This is none of my business. She's not my responsibility. That baby is not my responsibility. I should really stay out of her business. She didn't ask me for help.
But here I am, inserting myself into someone else's life as she pulls into an apartment complex that looks like it could crumble at any moment. I've never been to this side of town before. It's older, rundown, and from the looks of it, partially abandoned.
