Eyes glazing. Another Friday night stuck in my one-bedroom with Netflix. Fingers cramping. And scrolling through Instagram.
Bored. I haven’t seen any friends in over a month. My fault, I guess.
Lonely. Faces of old friends from high school smile up at me on my phone. Small children hug on them and warm their cheeks with kisses.
Sad. Why isn’t that me? Even for a day.
Bitter. They don’t deserve them.
In denial. I’m kind. I’m loving.
“I’d be a great mom,” I mutter aloud.
“No, you wouldn’t,” Her voice calls.
“Why would you say that?” I feel tears welling.
“Look at you. You haven’t left the apartment in two weeks. And that shower over there is basically made of dust.”
I shake my head. “Just leave me alone,” I demand.
“And let you lose your mind completely? What kind of friend would I be?” “You’re not my friend!”
“Ouch. If I cared, that would hurt.”
With considerable effort, I push myself off the couch. My body creaks from lack of movement. I head into the kitchen for some juice.
Reading the expiration date, I cover my nose, release the lid, and pour the liquid down the drain. The semi-fermented smell stings my nostrils. I dry heave.
“I need to go to the grocery store.”
“How about you put deodorant on first?” She suggests. “You’re disgusting.” I sniff my pits.
She laughs.
“Stop that!” I shout.
***
The bright lights of the supermarket pierce my eyes. I flip the hoodie up trying to conceal my face from the world. As I walk through the aisles, I watch families pushing carts, children running circles, parents trying to keep their sanity.
I stay invisible.
Until something bumps into my cart. With a tiny shutter, I weave the cart around the obstacle, not wanting to draw attention.
“Sorry about that,” a soft voice calls out. A baby cries.
I can’t help but look up. Sitting in a small car seat, nuzzled among groceries, a tiny baby girl stares up at her mother. Her big blue eyes dripping with tears. Her chubby cheeks red from exertion.
She’s lovely. Like a tiny cherub.
But she’s sad. So sad.
I want to reach out and comfort, but I resist the urge. Her mother’s hands run across her silky hair and place a pacifier in her mouth.
The angel calms.
“How old?” I manage to ask. I feel the mother looking at me, though I haven’t even looked at her yet. Only the baby.
“Eight months.”
“She’s beautiful.”
The mother sighs dreamily. “Thank you.”
The baby faces me with those stunning blues. Her innocence wafting over me like a gentle breeze. I feel my chin quiver. But I try to hold back the tears.
“Are you all right?” the mother asks.
I sniffle and nod my head. “Great.”
But I’m not. And it’s obvious.
I feel a warm hand on my shoulder. An unfamiliar sensation. Lifting my gaze, I see the mother for the first time. Her eyes scan me. They’re friendly. Welcoming. But there’s something else behind her stare. A feeling I’m more than acquainted with. Loneliness maybe?
But how is she lonely? She has this little perfect child to keep her company. “Just been a long…year,” I admit.
She nods. “I get that.”
With a pleasant smile, this woman pulls her long, amber hair into a ponytail. It falls just over her right shoulder. And now I’m able to see just where this baby gets her angelic looks. The mother is beyond stunning. Perfect skin. Amazing hair. Regal posture. And natural lips parting gently over movie-star-white teeth.
I feel myself tugging on my hoodie as though pulling it tighter will literally make me disappear. Or turn me into someone else.
It doesn’t work.
The mother watches as I let my insecurities take over. I never should have listened to Her and left my apartment.
“My divorce just became official,” the mother blurts out.
“Huh?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I just said that.”
“Oh, uh—”
“You don’t need to say anything,” she continues. “I just felt like I needed to tell someone.”
The baby cries. The mother tries her best to calm her. I watch for a moment. Pity filling my heart.
“Sounds like you’ve had a long year too,” I finally say.
She laughs. “Long, but,” she strokes the baby’s tiny hand, “worth it. He wasn’t much of a father anyway. She deserves better.”
“Yeah, she does,” I say. “You’ve got a gift there.”
The mother beams. “I’m Lily.”
I smile, and for the first time in a long time, it’s genuine. “I’m…Rose.”
Lily laughs. “Well, aren’t we just a beautiful bouquet.”
I laugh too. Unexpectedly, the baby begins to giggle. And with that celestial sound, the heaviness on my heart dissipates ever so slightly.
“Oh, and this is Zoey!”
***
“Why did you lie?”
I pull the groceries from the bag. And shrug. “I didn’t mean to. It just sorta came out.” “She only feels bad for you. That’s the only reason she talked to you.”
I shrug again.
“Stop shrugging. It’s not attractive.”
“Please, can you leave me alone for one night?” I plead.
“I’m afraid you may do something bad if I do.”
“I’m not going to do anything bad. I just want peace.”
“You won’t find it with Lily. She’s a mess too.”
“You don’t even know her.”
“Oh, but I do. She’s like you. Sad and miserable. But what’s worse is she has a baby that relies on her. Luckily, you don’t have anyone who needs you.”
I hurl the brand-new juice bottle to the floor. It bursts apart, spraying sticky orange liquid everywhere.
“Shut up! Don’t talk about people you don’t know. She’s a wonderful mom. A wonderful friend. See, she already texted. Wanted to make sure I got home all right.” I hold my phone up.
In response, I hear a sickening laugh. Like a hyena who’s just found its dinner. “We’ll see, Amanda. We’ll see.”
***
At 8:30 in the morning I get a series of texts from Lily:
Baby girl up all night.
Im exhausted, but this smile gives me energy.
A picture of Zoey pops up.
So glad I met you yesterday Rose! Your amazing.
I smile at the picture shining from the screen. Zoey’s toothless grin and big eyes sparkling and hopeful. I save the photo and respond:
Thx! You’re amazing too.
And that Zoey is such a delight!
“Oh, stop that!” She shrieks.
I jump but pretend I didn’t notice Her. I flick my thumb up, scrolling through Lily’s Instagram feed. Most of the pictures are of her with Zoey. In a beautifully decorated nursery. A spotless living room. At the beach. At the park.
They look so happy.
“This is sickening. You’re sickening,” She snarls.
From Lily:
If youre not busy, wanna come to my house for dinner?
My heart almost bursts. Someone is inviting me to do something. I can’t remember the last time this happened. But I wait a few minutes to respond. Don’t want to seem too eager. Yes! I finally text.
Lily responds almost immediately.
Yay! 6?
Works for me! I reply.
She sends her address, and I almost jump up and down with excitement. My heart is lifted. It feels like things are getting—
“She’s only inviting you to show off her home. You’ve seen those pictures on Instagram. Gaaaauuuddddy.”
“Not gaudy. Stylish.” I’m not going to let Her ruin this feeling.
“She’s obviously a lonely, attention-seeking loser.”
I shake my head and rush to the shower. I think it’s time I clean up.
“Finally! Wash, rinse, repeat, and repeat, and repeat.”
I slam the bathroom door.
***
“Your home is lovely,” I say. My eyes flitting around the room, not sure where to look next. It feels like I’m walking into one of those HGTV homes. Vintage furniture mixed with modern amenities creating an inviting home. It’s a literal dream.
Lily smiles. “Thank you.”
“Did you do it yourself?”
She nods. A hint of red splashing over her cheeks. “It’s what I do. Interior design.” “Wow,” I say, completely jealous. “You’re never coming to my apartment.” Lily laughs. “I’m sure your place is great!”
I feel my eyes getting big as I shake my head too hard. She laughs again.
“Come on, let’s get Zoey. She’s been napping for forever. She’ll love to see you.” Smiling, I follow Lily up the stairs to a room at the end of the hall.
Zoey’s nursery.
An opulent crib stands in the corner like a throne. Behind it, a painting of a Disney-esque bird looks over Zoey as she sleeps. Lily bends over to pick something up off the floor. “I swear, these toys multiply like gremlins.”
She places a hand-sized, bocce-looking ball onto an ornate dresser. Doesn’t look like a toy babies should be messing with, but I guess it adds to the décor.
I hang back, not wanting to interfere, but Lily waves for me to come closer to the crib. I do.
Zoey’s eyes are closed. Her breathing steady. She’s a doll.
“We don’t need to wake her. She looks so peaceful,” I say.
“If I don’t, she’ll be up all night. And I need sleep!”
As much as I want to hold and play with Zoey, I don’t want to disturb her. It doesn’t seem right. But Lily gently strokes her hair until Zoey’s eyes flutter awake. She stares at us for a few moments, and a huge, toothless smile spreads across her rosy cheeks.
My chest expands. A feeling of warmth takes over my body. I want to reach for her, but Lily does it first. Cradling this angel in her arms, Lily talks to her. “Wakey wakey, sweetheart. I missed you.”
Zoey nuzzles her head against Lily’s shoulder. Complete trust.
I smile as Zoey stares back at me. Then this almost uncontrollable urge to take Zoey from Lily’s arms takes over. I reach, one hand drawing closer to Zoey’s small frame, the other reaching for what? Lily’s hair?
I could yank on her ponytail. That would loosen her grip from Zoey long enough for me to grab Zoey and run.
Stop!
I force my hands to my side.
What am I thinking?
“Time to go downstairs, Zoey,” Lily coos. She walks out of the room, leaving me in the dark. My heart thuds. The warmth I felt moments ago is gone. It’s replaced with shame. And loneliness. I sigh and follow down the stairs.
***
Lily’s food is art. Her house is art. Her daughter is art. She is art.
“Thank you for dinner. It’s probably the best thing I’ve eaten in, well, my entire life.”
I’m not even exaggerating.
Lily giggles. “You’re gonna need to stop complimenting me so much. It’ll go to my head.”
“Sorry,” I mutter. “Are you done with your plate?”
She nods. I pick it up, along with mine and head toward the kitchen sink.
“What are you doing? You are not going to clean the dishes.”
“I don’t mind. I mean, you made dinner. It’s the least I can do.”
“No way, ma’am. I got it. You go play with Zoey.”
“You sure?”
“Go!” She points over at Zoey who lies on the carpet under a sensory canopy. I hesitate, even though it’s all I want to do. Then I head into the living room anyway. She looks up, and I swear she calls for me, reaching out with her tiny fingers. I bend over and place my thumbs in her hands. She squeezes.
I almost pass out.
She coos.
I begin to shake.
I take a deep breath, steady my hands, and gently pick her up.
She’s in my arms now. Her smell and warmth seep into my clothes, my skin, my bones, my soul.
This, this is what I’ve been missing in my life.
“I love you, precious one. I love you, my Zoey.” Then I kiss her cheek.
***
“We need to make this a weekly thing. What do you say?”
“Definitely!” I exclaim, tying my shoes.
Zoey paws at Lily’s mouth while she speaks.
“Sweetheart, Mommy’s talking.” Zoey pulls at her bottom lip. “Ouch!” Lily cries, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t do that! That hurts.”
She pushes Zoey’s hands away from her face.
I flinch.
“Sorry, she’s a grabber.” She holds Zoey’s hands down, fighting against the mini fingers. “And sorry for talking your ear off about my ex. You’re just easy to talk to.”
I shrug. “I don’t mind.” But I’m not thinking about our conversation. I’m thinking about how sad Zoey looks. She isn’t trying to hurt Lily. She just wants her mother’s attention. “You can talk to me about things too,” Lily continues. “I know we’ve just met, but I’m actually a good listener. If I can get myself to shut up.”
“I, uh…”
Let go of her arms! I want to yell.
“Yeah,” I recite. “I’ll definitely open up more.”
Lily nods, struggling to hold Zoey’s hands down. They break free and Zoey scratches Lily under the chin. A tiny droplet of blood emerges on Lily’s otherwise blemish-free face. “Oww! All right, little missy!” Lily yells. “It’s time to get you to bed. I will text you tomorrow.”
I plaster a smile on my face and head out the door. When it closes, my teeth disappear behind my trembling lips.
***
“Now you believe me?”
I don’t move.
“She’s a horrible mother. I’d say she’s bordering on abusive,” She spits.
I don’t know what to think. Lily’s so good with Zoey. And Zoey seems to really love her. But I can’t get that picture of Lily restraining Zoey—darkness in her eyes—out of my head. She didn’t look herself. I would never do that to Zoey or anyone. Ever!
“Lily isn’t—”
“Yes, she is! And if you don’t do something about it, Zoey’s going to get really hurt. And it will be your pathetic fault.”
Tears fall. Mind races. But I remain silent for a long time.
Finally, I say, “What do I need to do?”
***
The phone rings, waking me from a horrible sleep. I grab at it and bring it close to my face. Lily.
“Hello?” I mumble.
“He called child protective services on me! Can you believe that?” she snarls. “What?”
“They came over to do a wellness check. Just left. Luckily, they could tell Zoey is completely safe.”
Completely safe?
“I feel like getting a restraining order. I don’t want someone like him around my daughter. I know we didn’t end on the best of terms, but to try to get my daughter taken away from me is unforgivable. He’s a vindictive—”
“Maybe he didn’t call them,” I say.
I hear a terrible shrieking coming from the foot of my bed. “What are you doing?” She screams.
I shrug. I don’t know. It just came out.
“Oh, of course he did. No one else would do this to me,” Lily explains. “I just, I’m so angry right now. I feel like smashing his car windows, only that’ll just give him more ammo. I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m sorry.”
She sighs. “Can you come over?”
“Sure, I just need to get ready for the day first.”
“You’re still in bed, aren’t you? Duh. It’s only like 7:00 in the morning. I’m so sorry to bother you. Go ahead and go back to sleep. I’ll be okay.”
“No! I’m coming over.”
“You sure?” I can sense her pleading eyes on the other end of the phone. “Yes.”
***
I get dressed. She talks.
“You’re an idiot. All you had to do was make the call to CPS, wait for something else to happen, and make another call. Then Zoey would be taken away. But you’re too stupid to listen to me.”
My cheeks are wet. My whole body shakes. And daggers pierce my skin every time She opens her mouth.
“That wouldn’t solve anything,” I whisper, as though someone may hear my conversation. “Zoey still has a father. And from what I’ve heard, he’s no good either.”
“Only in name. You think he wants the little brat? He left his family. He doesn’t care about her.”
“But the law says he has rights.”
“You worry too much. It’s pathetic.”
I want to shout, but I can’t. “Your plan’s not going to work,” I manage to croak out. “Zoey’s still in danger.”
“Then what’s your big idea? Become a shoulder to cry on? Hoping one day she just gives Zoey to you? Not gonna happen! You’re as unfit to be a mother as she is.” “I’m not. Zoey would be better off with me than with anyone else.”
Sickly hyena laughs permeate my ears.
“Little Amanda wants to save the day. That’s cute.”
“My name is Rose.”
“You can’t change who you are just because you want to.”
More laughs.
***
I wipe my eyes, trying to hide the fact I’ve been crying. Then knock. After a few moments, Lily opens the door. She looks unkempt, but like me, is trying to hide that she’s been crying. Zoey sleeps in her arms.
“Thank you for coming,” she says, hugging me.
“Of course,” I say, placing an arm around her back. A feeling of revulsion coursing through me. This is the woman who hurt my Zoey. “How are you?” I manage to squeak out. Her head shakes and nods at the same time. Her eyes water as if they’ll overflow at any second.
“I’m okay. I just feel so overwhelmed. I don’t know what to do.”
Give Zoey to me. That’s all you’ve got to do.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, feeling my own tears threatening to erupt.
“Not your fault I married a jerk. Can we just sit for a while?”
I nod, as calm as possible, but on the inside, I want to rip Zoey from her arms. We sit on the garish couch, quiet for a moment. I watch Zoey sleeping, longing for her to be mine. “Let me hold Zoey for a while. You look exhausted.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t want to wake her. She’s been crying all day. I think she senses something is wrong.”
“I’ll be gentle,” I say, reaching for the angel. Lily finally relents. With the transfer complete, and Zoey only stirring for a second, I settle back into the cushions. Lily gets up and goes to the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”
“No, I’m fine.”
I’m better than fine. I’ve got Zoey in my arms away from Lily. I’m that much closer to keeping her safe.
Lily comes back with a glass of orange juice. She sips it with shaking hands. Her eyes droop and sag as though they want to fall out of her sockets.
“Go take a nap. Your mind will be clearer when you wake,” I say, with as much concern as I can muster.
“I can’t do that. I—”
“Just go,” I say, a little too harshly. I correct myself with a hand on hers and a quieter tone. “I got this. Zoey’s resting. You need rest too.”
I plaster a warm smile on my face. She stares back, exhaustion and nerves taking over. Then she’s gone. I’m alone with Zoey. I walk around the house, rocking her back and forth. We end up in her nursery in the rocking chair next to the crib.
It’s peaceful.
It’s right.
I hold my head close to Zoey’s forehead and place a kiss on her soft skin. My soul sparks. I feel the small strand of life inside my heart begin to expand into something greater. Something stronger.
The memories of the past year begin to fade. All the loneliness, all the tears. I even begin to forget Her, or at least, I feel Her pull loosening.
It’s all but an old nightmare sitting in this beautiful home, with this beautiful baby girl. I can finally be happy here, in this home. In this life.
My fingers glide through Zoey’s hair and in an instant, I’m transformed. I’m not Amanda. I’m not even Rose or Lily. I’m Zoey’s mom.
“Mama’s here,” I say. “I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore.”
“What did you say?” A voice calls from the door.
Looking up, I see Lily. She’s wiping sleep from her eyes, half asleep. She looks confused.
“Oh, I was just telling Zoey—”
“Did you just call yourself Mama?”
I panic.
“And what do you mean you won’t let anyone hurt her anymore?”
I open my mouth to speak, but someone’s pushed the mute button. I just shake my head instead.
She’s next to me in a second, reaching for Zoey. “Can you hand me my baby, please?” My head continues to shake.
“Hand me my daughter now!”
I caress Zoey’s cheeks, realizing there’s no other option. I lift her up toward Lily with a heavy, despondent heart.
“Don’t you dare give in that easily!” She screeches.
I scan the room. It’s empty, but for Lily and me and my daughter. She can’t be here. “What, you think I can’t leave your cruddy apartment? I’m always with you, my naïve Amanda.”
“Leave!” I scream.
“Give me Zoey and you leave!” Lily shouts back.
“I don’t need you.” My throat is heavy with agony. This can’t be happening. “Rose, please,” Lily pleads. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I just want my daughter. Please.”
I barely acknowledge Lily’s presence, still reeling from hearing Her voice here. I feel hands tugging on Zoey’s body. Her hands? Is that even possible.
“Get your hands off her! You’re hurting her!” I shout.
But instead of Her, it’s Lily who recoils. “Hand her to me, or I’ll have to call the police.” I stare at her face. The streaks of tears matching my own. Her frantic eyes clones of mine. She reaches again, but I twist my body hard, my elbow catching Lily in the side of her
head. She stumbles back into the dresser edge and lands on her side. Her eyes fluttering. Zoey’s screaming now.
“It’s okay, sweetie. I got you.”
Lily stirs. Her hands grab for the dresser pulls. She catches one and begins to pull herself up. I look at the gaping door and prepare to run.
“Don’t you dare run! Finish it.”
“What?”
“An idiot to the very end, I see.” Her voice seething with superiority.
“I’m not an idiot! I’m not pathetic. I’m not worthless. I’m not any of the names you call me! You aren’t even real. You’re a sickness in my mind. A bad thought. And I’m done with you.”
The hyena howls for a moment.
“You’ll never be done with me! I’m here for the long—”
I scream such a guttural noise that I’m only vaguely aware it’s coming from me. Then, the howling stops. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t make a sound.
It’s finally quiet.
Breathing heavy, I run toward the door. A hand grabs at me from the floor. “Please,” Lily whispers. “My Zoey.”
I shove her hand off my leg, but in the process, my foot kicks the dresser. It shutters. A heavy something rolls from the top. Rolls, rolls. And then falls.
A loud, thud-crack hitting something hard but fragile. Then more rolling on the floor. Lily’s hand falls to the ground. Limp.
Zoey cries.
I watch the heavy ball leave red trails behind on the glistening floor. It rolls and rolls until it knocks into the leg of the crib. Then it stops.
And I know.
I know Zoey is safe now.
