Chapter 5
Beth
I unwrap the burger from the paper I got from the Big Burger four blocks away during my lunch break. They're simply the best.
At least, they are when you're like me and have absolutely no time for anything since my little Ben came into the world. He's almost three months old now, sleeping at the moment, and...
"Mmm," I murmur, inhaling the aroma that fills my kitchen after opening the takeout container, making my mouth water. And when I unwrap the burger from its paper, the smell gets even more intense.
I savor this little moment to myself in my kitchen, place the burger on the plate in front of me, take a deep breath, and wonder when the last time was that I actually cooked a real meal for myself or slept for more than two hours straight.
The reflection in the hallway mirror answered that question mercilessly as I walked past it on my way in, gave Veronica a kiss on the cheek—she's running the shop for me during my lunch break and was just watching a sleeping Ben while I took the burger from the delivery guy.
I don't even have time for a four-block walk.
But that's okay, because this is my life now.
I take a big sip, quickly flipping through the newspaper Veronica left here, and when my eyes land on the word "fundraiser" along with a picture in the society pages, I nearly choke.
The picture doesn't show anyone I know, but I realize in that moment that the fateful encounter was almost exactly a year ago. To the day, in fact.
Nothing's been the same since. Because that night, after which I was thrown out like trash, wasn't without consequences. I got pregnant. By that asshole named Alex.
I struggled with myself for a long time, sinking into a valley of tears and despair that I only escaped thanks to Veronica.
Then, sometime later, when the fog in my mind cleared, two things became crystal clear: I could never abort a life growing inside me.
I could never bring myself to do it. And I would never go looking for the father and make any claims after the way he had me thrown out of his house.
Sure, times have been tough, and when I look at my bank account and the shop's sales trends, I've had my doubts more than once about whether that was really the right decision. But my pride can't be bought, and that's how it's going to stay.
I take a deep breath, push the thoughts aside, and try to savor this little moment with my burger. I pick it up, bring it to my mouth, smell that wonderful sauce, and...
I hear Ben crying!
I take a deep breath and lower the untouched burger, because nothing is more important than my little treasure, whom I wouldn't give up for anything in the world. He may have turned my life upside down and made it infinitely more complicated, but I'm still so happy to have him.
I go to the cradle where he's lying, and as I come into his line of sight, he stops crying, seems to look at me, and babbles something. I can't help but smile.
"You get your charm from your daddy. And your eyes," I say lovingly, but I still feel the words send a pang through my stomach.
I really should get out of the habit of talking about his father and just forget him.
Maybe his blue eyes will still change; that's something that can happen with babies. But they remind me of him daily.
Ben seems to be hungry, because his mouth is already searching, and his little nose seems to smell where the milk is, as he instinctively turns his little head toward my breast.
"Lunchtime, sweetie?" I ask gently. "Coming right up." I sit down on the small couch with him in my arms, bare my breast, latch him on, and stroke him lovingly while he drinks in big gulps.
My eyes almost close as I start to nod off, but I jolt awake and straighten up again.
What kind of mother would I be if I fell asleep while breastfeeding and dropped my child?
But that would probably fit the overall picture.
We've moved into the small apartment above the shop, which I was able to get for a reduced price because I also take on the janitorial duties, like mopping the hallway and cleaning the section of street in front of my shop.
The main reason for this is that I want to keep my source of income and my shop.
But if I have to commute back and forth every day and hire more staff besides my one part-time helper, not to mention pay for childcare, then none of it is profitable anymore.
Basically, it only works because Veronica helps me so much and has taken the night shifts at her waitressing job.
What would I do without her? She doesn't complain and just did it of her own accord, saying the tips are better after she happened to fill in for a colleague almost a year ago.
Besides, she only lives a block away and really helps wherever she can.
And yet, the apartment only has one bedroom, a living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom.
Again, I feel my eyes getting heavy. Ben seems to be done, he's burped, and is sleeping peacefully again. Maybe just a ten-minute nap, because then I have to go back to the shop and reopen. Ten minutes is better than nothing, I decide, laying Ben down on the couch next to me. I build a sort of barrier around him with blankets so he doesn’t fall off if he rolls over in his sleep, and lie down next to him.
He smells so good. So much like a baby and just... he's simply the greatest thing in the world to me. I set the alarm on my smartphone, and my eyes close and...
RRR RRR RRR
I jolt awake. It wasn't the alarm; it still shows seven minutes left of my precious afternoon nap. No, it's my hamster, Petey.
He seems to have some kind of sixth sense for knowing exactly when to keep me from sleeping.
Hamsters are supposed to be nocturnal, but Petey…
he’s different, and he’s also pretty old.
I bought him before I even knew I was pregnant because I felt so useless and lonely and wanted a little life in the apartment.
At the pet store, they told me he was old and would die soon.
But he looked so cute. I took to him immediately and wanted to give him a nice time with me before he crossed the rainbow bridge.
He's actually holding up pretty well, eats well, and runs a lot.
Maybe the noisy pet store just made him sick.
The only thing that's off is his biorhythm.
He should be sleeping right now, which he was doing while I was breastfeeding.
Now he's running on his little hamster wheel in the cage, which has recently started making this annoying noise.
Then Petey stops again, but that little bit of noise was enough to wake not just me, but now Ben too, who, of course, is just as unhappy about it as I am and is now screaming irritably.
I pick him up, rock him gently back and forth, and after another ten minutes, he's back in the land of dreams.
I lay him down, glance at the clock, and see that I'm already late to open the shop.
Veronica isn't back yet either. I hope nothing happened to her.
I nervously look at the clock, not knowing what to do.
Then the door finally opens. Veronica, of course, has her own key and can come and go as she pleases.
"Sorry, I..." she begins.
"Shhh," I say quickly, pressing a finger to my lips. "Ben's sleeping," I whisper.
"Oh," she says, flinching. She takes off her jacket and looks at the little treasure with a smile. "I'm really sorry, I..."
"You don't have to apologize to me, Veronica. What would I do without you?" I pull her into a hug, pressing her close, suddenly becoming incredibly emotional and feeling a tear roll down my cheek. Maybe it's just the sleep deprivation.
"Hey, hey," she says, giving me a friendly pat. "It's all good. Now go down and open your shop. Ben and I will be fine." She gives me her kindest smile.
I give her a kiss on the cheek that I hope expresses more than any words of gratitude ever could. Besides, she's already told me she can't stand to hear the word thank you from my mouth anymore after the thousand times I've used it.
"Okay, see you later."
***
"Don't you open at one?" the elderly lady asks me. She was already standing outside the door when I appeared behind it at 1:07, turning the key and flipping the little sign so that OPEN was now visible from the outside.
"Yes, I'm sorry, something came up," I say hurriedly, inviting her in, feeling terribly guilty for making her wait.
This has happened a few times now, and I suspect not all customers are as patient as she is, but just go buy their flowers at another shop that doesn't have personal problems like me and opens reliably.
"It's all right. I know how it is," she says reassuringly with a smile. "I'm here to pick up my pre-ordered bouquet. The geraniums. You know the one I mean?"
I don't, and I look around helplessly at the arrangements my part-time helper prepared this morning from eight to ten.
But no geraniums. Then I look at the note she handed me before she left, and I go hot and cold all over.
She had noted down the geranium bouquet with all the details, including the 1:00 p.m. pickup time.
And me? I screwed up. And I know why. Veronica called me shortly after my helper left because Ben was inconsolable. So we quickly swapped, I went upstairs and breastfed him, and then...
Crap! This must be what they call 'mommy brain.' I completely forgot about the note.
"I'm so sorry," I say. "I'll make the bouquet for you right now. Do you have five minutes?"
"It's fine, dear," she says, a little less friendly this time. "You seem to have a lot going on in your life right now, don't you? I remember when I was your age. Oh, I think I already had children by then and..." She stops herself. "Do you have any?"
"A son. Almost three months. He's sleeping upstairs."