No. “Yes,” I said, returning the pleasantries.
“Is this your first?” she asked politely, paying no attention to my struggle.
I could barely hear her over Alexis shrieking in my ear. “Yes,” I said. And last.
“Enjoy every minute because they grow up fast,” she said matter-of-factly.
I wanted to reach out and slap her, but then I immediately felt terrible for my violent thoughts. What was enjoyable about trying to shop with a screaming baby who just made you nearly break your toe with a can of soup? What was pleasurable about standing in a line, that won’t fucking move, with a hysterical baby in your arms while little old ladies told me to enjoy the moment?
“Thank you,” I deadpanned.
Right at that moment, Alexis gagged and choked on her spit up which landed directly on my shoulder and dripped a pretty little stream down my back.
This is the best moment yet. My thoughts oozed with sarcasm.
I quickly used her blanket to wipe up the mess while the little old lady shook her head nostalgically. I wanted to smack her again, but this time I didn’t feel so bad about it.
“Sweet little angel,” she cooed at Alexis. “She just needed a little burp. All better now?” she asked with a sing-song voice, reaching out to let Alexis curl her hand around her wrinkled finger. Looking at me, she said, “I remember when mine were that little. I miss those days.”
I doubt I’ll ever miss these days, I thought. “I bet.” Flashing a fake smile, I hoped I wasn’t coming across as manic. Then again, for her sake, maybe she’d see me as a threat and back off a little.
“Cherish every moment,” she insisted again.
Nope. No threat.
Alexis never let up. She cried while I struggled to unload the groceries onto the conveyer belt with one hand. She cried while I reloaded the cart with the bags. She cried while I swiped my card to pay. By the time I made it to my car, I was crying right along with her.
I sat a few extra minutes in the driver’s seat, leaning my head on the steering wheel. My nerves were shot. My hands trembled, and the tears wouldn’t stop. Alexis and I both sobbed all the way home.
Weeks had passed without a hitch. I’d managed to get Chris out of segregation a day earlier than scheduled. He’d seemed a little more jovial since then. I’d hoped our countless sessions were helping him.
The day started out pretty much like any other day, except for the fact that I’d forgotten my lunch at home that morning and was forced to grab a tray from the cafeteria.
I made my way down the quiet corridor toward the dining room. The cafeteria was small compared to a typical high school. Three long tables stretched out across the room. Bench seats were attached to the tables. The floor was lined with cream colored tiles and the occasional out-of-place blue tile. You could hear the loud clanking of plastic trays and metal pans echoing down the hall. The food was mediocre, at best, but for some of these kids it was better than anything they ever got at home. Lunch was served promptly at noon every day.
“Great to see you, Mrs. Honeycutt,” Mrs. Collins greeted me with a smile. Bright blue eyes peered at me under the poofy hair net. Ruth Collins was by far my favorite cafeteria worker. She always loaded my tray with two freshly baked cookies instead of just one. The state would never pay to serve inmates delicious snacks, so Mrs. Collins always baked her own desserts at home and brought them with her to work, treating the staff to her baked goodies. She was always friendly and talkative, not only to me, but to the kids too. A lot of older adults in this facility seemed burned out. Not Ruth. She would laugh and cut up with the boys every day. Sometimes I thought she sneaked extra cookies on their trays too, but I never let on that I knew.
I grinned at her. “Thank you. It’s great to see you too, Mrs. Collins.”
“Here’s a little something extra for you today,” she whispered. Her bright, aged blue eyes danced with mischief. “I know cow patties are your favorite.” I loved cow patties, those delicious no-bake chocolate oatmeal cookies that resembled… well… cow patties.
“Thanks, Mrs. Collins,” I whispered covertly, excited to enjoy her homemade snack. “I hope you have a wonderful rest of the week.”
“I’ve gotta work this weekend, so it should be great!”
I chuckled inwardly. No one loved their job as much as Ruth did. I loved her attitude. These kids loved her too. I turned around and saw a few guys in the corner eyeing us. I put a finger to my lips, hinting to keep quiet. One boy nodded and took a bite of his cow patty with a wink.
“Mrs. Honeycutt,” Greg called from another table. “Come sit by us.”