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I draw a deep breath. One thing at a time. First, I have to leave this baby somewhere safe.
I get off the bench. “Shall we?”
I take the bassinet and start walking away from the road. I’ve only taken a few steps when someone bumps against my shoulder.
“Ow!” the other person complains.
I realize it’s a woman around my age – or maybe she’s younger than I am? Her oval face is framed by long locks of dark hair and she has a purple scarf wrapped around her neck. She looks angry, too. At least, she does at first. As soon as she sees the bassinet, her expression softens.
“I’m so sorry,” she apologizes quickly. “I didn’t see you.”
I shake my head. “It’s okay.”
I didn’t see her either. I didn’t think anyone would be here this early. Besides, the baby seems fine. She stares at the stranger with her wide eyes.
“Hi there!” The woman’s voice rises a few octaves higher as she leans over the bassinet and smiles at the baby. “How are you? You are so cute. Yes, you are.”
I try not to roll my eyes. Who would have thought someone talking in a baby voice would sound so annoying?
“What’s her name?” she asks me in a normal voice without taking her gaze off the baby. Then she goes back to her baby voice. “I bet you have a cute name, don’t you? A beautiful name fit for the beautiful little princess that you are.”
“I don’t know,” I answer in a snide tone.
I didn’t mean to be rude. I guess her voice just got to me.
The woman straightens up and turns to me, no longer smiling.
“I’m sorry. I thought she was your baby.”
“No. I just…” I start but stop when I realize that maybe it’s better for me not to tell anyone about the baby. It may be better for me not to talk to anyone, actually.
“Hmm.” She scratches her chin as she brings her face closer to mine. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. You’re not from here, are you?”
I look away. Didn’t anyone teach her not to stare?
“Are you visiting someone?”
“I’m sorry, but I have to go,” I tell her. “I have to get this baby somewhere safe.”
The woman’s eyebrows furrow. I realize too late that I’ve said more than I should, so I walk away before I say more. I walk briskly in the direction of the town, lifting the bassinet up to the level of my waist so it doesn’t collide with my knees. That makes it harder to carry, though, and the bassinet starts to feel heavier as my arms start to tire. I have to stop to catch my breath. The air is still cool, and yet I feel beads of sweat on my brow.
I set the bassinet down at my feet and glance behind me. The woman’s gone. Good. I look ahead. I don’t see anyone in that direction, either. It’s just trees as far as the eye can see, their tops gleaming in the glow of the sun that is slowly making its way across the sky.
I continue walking. The longer I take, the higher the chances of me being seen leaving a baby on a doorstep. If I get caught, I’ll be questioned, or worse, dragged to the police for them to do the questioning, which will nullify all my efforts. I can’t have that. As much as possible, I should avoid being seen by anyone else in this town.
After a few more minutes, I stop again. The bassinet is getting heavier. The air is getting hotter. Without food for roughly the past eight hours, my body simply doesn’t have enough strength. Still, I can’t give up. I’ve survived a day before without food and water. Sure, I didn’t have to walk then, just stay still inside a dark closet, but I’ll be fine.
I tell myself that as I continue down the path. When I realize I’m slowing down, I consider ditching the bassinet but decide against it. True, I can carry the baby in my arms, but what if my arms suddenly give way and I drop the baby? What if I end up collapsing anyway?
Another option is to just leave the bassinet here by the side of the road. Someone will walk by soon, and they won’t miss her.
I end up deciding against that, too. What if some animal gets to her first? What if the bassinet gets hit by a car?
No. I have to accomplish my task. I have to leave the baby somewhere safe, somewhere I’m sure she’ll be found.
That goal pushes me onward step by step. I ignore the ache in my arms and legs, in my empty stomach, in the back of my head that’s started to throb. I ignore the sweat trickling down my face, too.
