Page 4 of Pretty Please Me
“Oh, no, you don’t.” I clench him tighter to my chest and nudge Cody. “Hey, kid, what’s your pick?”
“Umm.” He places a small finger on his lip, considering his options. “I want–” He sneaks his head around, checking to see if his mother is still asleep before deciding. “A coke and cookies, pwease.”
I shrug, “I suppose I’ll have the same.” The flight attendant serves us our snacks, and I help Cody with his tray, opening his bag of cookies while carefully feeding Julian one at a time. I don’t really know if babies should eat cookies, but the package says nut-free, so I figure if he had a major allergy or something, his mom wouldn’t have handed him over so easily—to a complete stranger, nonetheless.
“Mmm. Soda!” Cody balances the can of soda in his small chubby hands, slurping it with a phsst-ahh with every sip.
I watch him go in, again and again, taking less and less time between each sip. After a few minutes, he’s nothing short of chugging the can like he’s at a frat party.
“Hey, buddy. Maybe you should slow down a little on that soda–” I reach to take the can, his eyes growing wider with every gulp.
He slaps my hand away. “Mine!” he hisses, and I recoil like I’ve just touched a hot stove.
I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a small child turn feral right before your eyes, but it’s nothing short of what nightmares are made of. I clench baby Julian to my chest as I watch Cody shotgun the rest of the soda.
“More!” he screams, beating his chest with his fist. His words come out as a growl, and I look around for any help I can find, willing someone to take mercy on me and tell me what to do.
When he strips his shirt off and begins slapping himself in the face, I whip my head around the cabin in search of anyone vaguely resembling a priest. I don’t know shit about little kids, but demon possession seems like the only logical explanation for this sudden change in behavior.
I connect gazes with an elderly woman two aisles behind me and mouth the words“Help me,”but she snaps her eyes back down to her knitting as if she didn’t see me at all.
Baby Julian seems to have picked up on whatever crazed possession his brother is experiencing now, too. He’s got my tie clenched in a tiny white knuckle grip coated in slick cookie-crumble drool.
I cough as the fabric tightens around my windpipe and try my best to balance the little guy as he jumps up and down while using my balls as his own personal trampoline. “Helll-p” I gasp, trying to get their mother’s attention as baby Julian tightens his grip. My vision begins to blur from the lack of oxygen, and I feel that this right here may just be the end for me.
Death by strangulation from a tiny human. It’s certainly not something I can say I saw coming…
“More soda!” Cody screams as he crushes the soda can against his skull like a deranged frat bro.
Somehowthisis what stirs his mother, and she opens her eyes with a gasp, snatching Julian out of my arms. Precious oxygen flows back into my lungs.
I suck in a deep breath, cherishing the feeling of my lungs expanding, when I feel a sharp, stinging slap across my face. Heat rushes to the surface as a high-pitched ringing shrills inside my eardrum.
“How dare you! Sugar is the leading cause of inflammation, which is the root of all diseases! What were you thinking, giving them cookies without asking!?”
I blink several times, rubbing the welt on my face as the stinging sensation fades, and I try to collect my thoughts. Then, just as the fasten seatbelt lights come on, baby Julian empties the contents of his stomach all over my new suit.
The taste of warm, regurgitated cookies and spoiled milk seep into my mouth, and I sink into my seat. So much for being a good person.
* * *
I sniff the cabernet before tasting it, and my nose scrunches up in repulsion. No matter how many times I wash my face, I still can’t get the smell of spoiled milk out of my nose.
“Is the wine not to your liking? I’d be happy to get you something else—”
I hold up my hand to stop her. “No, this is perfect. Thank you, Bethany. I’ll call you over if I need anything else.”
Bethany nods before stepping out in silence.
I’m sitting in the private room of my favorite high-end restaurant in the city, waiting not so patiently on my date which should’ve been here ten minutes ago. She knows how exhausted I am from traveling all week, and it’s not like her to be late without notice. I force my mind to stop the spiral of worry as I check the time once more.
The soft sweet melody of a piano sends a wave of calm over my agitated nerves, and my clenched jaw softens. I rub my aching temples and close my eyes. I’m so exhausted. I can’t wait to get home and go to bed.
In the last seven days, I’ve traveled everywhere from India to France, making a quick stop in Germany and then Puerto Rico to meet with clients. Then I had to rush back home a day early to handle someone else’s emergency, and I’ve been in meetings all day ever since. I was lucky I even had time to shower before this dinner that Natalie sprung on me at the last minute.
Normally, we go out on Saturday night, but something major must’ve come up for her. It’s not like her to stray from out outlined agreement. It’s part of the reason I’m being so understanding with her tardiness—that and I haven’t had a real meal in nearly forty-eight hours…
“Sam, I’m so sorry I’m late. Traffic was nuts, and I got tied up at the drycleaners—” Natalie drops her large purse in the seat beside her and collapses into her seat.
