Page 36 of Fight for Me

Then I just pluck my fussing son out of her arms wordlessly and carry him into the bathroom. I give him a rubber duck to distract him while I pour some cold water into the bathtub to mix it with the hot water from the kettle. After I make sure the temperature is right, I give him a quick bath.

My movements are sluggish and uncertain, and I blink slowly at my soapy hands. I’m so out of it, that I move completely on autopilot, not really comprehending what’s happening around me. Caring for my child is the only instinct breaking through the ripping feeling of despair.

While I am drying Henry with a towel, I notice moisture dropping onto his little head and look up in wonderment. Why is the ceiling leaking? I muse in my mind, only to realize that this whole time, fat streams of sad tears were running down my face.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” Rita’s voice registers in my mind, and it’s like someone unmuted the entire world because I suddenly hear my son’s loud cries.

“Mamma, mamma, cry! No cry! Mommy!” His face is twisted in distress as he looks up at me, wiggling his arms trying to reach my face.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath and swipe the wetness from my face. I smile and take Henry into my arms. “Mommy doesn’t cry, you see? It’s just water.”

“Is sad?” my son asks with a pout and puts his small palm on my face.

“I’m a little sad. But I’m not crying, you see?” I ask cheerfully and point to my blotchy face.

Fortunately, my two-year-old doesn’t need that much convincing and starts babbling happily about his day with grandma. Or at least that’s what I think he talks about because many times I don’t understand a word from his mouth.

I take him into his room to dress him, feeling Rita’s presence hot on my heels, the smell of cigarette smoke wafting around her like a smelly cloud.

“Are you on something? You’re acting weird,” she says angrily and tries to go around me to take a hold of Henry.

I stop her with my arm and whisper pleadingly, “Please just leave him, I need my son right now. I need to take care of him.”

Whatever she sees in my eyes must convince her it’s okay to leave me around a child because she backs away after giving her grandson a pat on the head with her wrinkled hand. My boy, oblivious to everything around him, continues with his mindless babbling, while I put on some warmer pajamas on his wiggling chubby body. Then I give him a tickle, and his unrestricted giggles feel like a warm balm on my painted heart.

I carry him to my bed and put on a cartoon on the small TV set right next to my bed. It immediately catches his attention, and I get the time to study his perfect little face.

When Henry’s body relaxes and his rhythmic breaths get deeper, I snuggle into him and sniff his soft locks of hair, thinking about everything that I lost.

CHAPTER VIII

IT’S BEEN TWO DAYS since my world was turned upside down again, and I spent yesterday lying in bed and watching Henry play with his toys on the carpet. To my surprise, Rita went out to deal with the unpaid bill. Of course she had to take the money out of my purse to do that, but still, I was grateful when the heating started working again. Right away, I took a long hot shower, just to feel human again.

Today I had to get back to work because even though all I wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry for months, I couldn’t exactly do that with all the bills piling up. Life and commitments wait for no one, even the grieving ones.

After the first hours of busting about the diner, I know I probably don’t exhort enough enthusiasm while serving my customers. Judging by the tips alone, they’re not buying my fake smile today. I just can’t find the strength in me anymore to fake it. I used to be so good at that.

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