Chapter 28 Gwen #2
The woman in the orange vest was named Sheila, and she insisted on holding June for the walk from the car to the center entrance. Gwen was sure June would start crying in the arms of this stranger, but June appeared too mystified by the overall newness of the situation to register discomfort.
By the time they got inside, Gwen had managed to stop crying.
Sheila introduced her to everyone they passed in the lobby and hallway—a flurry of names that Gwen would never remember.
Everyone smiled and waved. They were shiny, happy people, the type of people you would want in a childcare environment.
“Ms. Johnson is the teacher in the infant room,” Sheila said as they approached the room where June would spend most of the day. Gwen thought the term teacher was a little silly, but she just nodded.
Ms. Johnson was young—late twenties, early thirties at the most. She didn’t have a wedding ring. It was likely she didn’t have children of her own. That was the only reasonable explanation for why she had so much energy available for other people’s children.
“This must be June,” Ms. Johnson said, her face conveying absolute enthusiasm at the arrival of Gwen’s child. Gwen searched for something disingenuous in her huge smile, but couldn’t find anything.
“I’ve been looking forward to you, little one,” Ms. Johnson said to June. “You ready, Mom?”
Normally, Gwen hated it when people referred to her as “Mom,” invalidating her existence as a human being with a name and referring to her only by her role.
But in this instance, she was fine with being “Mom.” She didn’t care if she was nothing to Ms. Johnson as long as Ms. Johnson treated June like she was everything.
Sheila placed June in Gwen’s arms, and Gwen transferred June to Ms. Johnson.
“I have all the instructions you emailed over—thank you for those,” Ms. Johnson said. She was addressing Gwen, but her eyes were locked on June’s, her face already contorting into all the goofy expressions adults make for babies.
“And you have my number if you need anything at all,” Gwen said.
“They send photo updates throughout the day here,” Sheila chimed in.
“We sure do,” Ms. Johnson said before blubbering her lips at June. June smiled, entranced.
“Okay,” Gwen said.
This was the time for her to leave, and yet she felt as if her feet, in her stupid heels, were bolted to the floor.
“I promise she is in great hands and we will have the best day,” Ms. Johnson said.
“Thank you,” Gwen said.
Gwen reached out to touch the soft hairs on June’s head.
She thought of that morning’s Angeni vision, her mantra for the day: The bond between the two of us can withstand anything.
She felt her eyes welling up with tears again.
June didn’t seem upset at all. She didn’t understand that she was about to begin a phase of daily separation from the person who loved her most.
“Mama loves you,” Gwen said, kissing June on the cheek. “Mama will be back.”
The bond between the two of us can withstand anything.
Ms. Johnson lifted June’s tiny hand in a wave, and Gwen managed to lift her feet and walk out of the room, Sheila behind her saying, “You did good.”
Gwen sat in her car in the parking lot, waiting for Ms. Johnson to come running out to say that she had underestimated June’s attachment to her mother and that she did not think June was ready for this type of care.
Nobody came out, though. Sheila resumed her parking lot duties, looking over at Gwen every couple of minutes to give her a thumbs-up.
Gwen watched the parade of other mothers carrying babies into the center.
There were so many of them in their business attire, looking harried and rushed.
Gwen knew she was supposed to feel emboldened by them, assured that she wasn’t the only mother handing over her baby to people so she could go to work.
But she didn’t feel emboldened. She just felt remorse. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
She kept thinking about how supportive Angeni Luna had been in that morning’s vision-dream.
That wasn’t the real Angeni Luna, though.
That was Gwen’s projection of what she wanted to think Angeni Luna would say.
The real Angeni Luna always talked about how a mother and her child were not supposed to be separated.
It was against nature. That was why Gwen was so emotional.
Her tears weren’t evidence of something being wrong; they were evidence that she knew what was right.
She was sure if she met the real Angeni Luna, she would want Gwen to go back into the day care center and retrieve her child.
Gwen tapped on her phone, checking for an update from Ms. Johnson. There wasn’t anything yet, of course. She went to Instagram, checked Angeni Luna’s page. No new posts. A text from Jeff appeared at the top of the screen:
You okay? How was drop-off?
She responded:
She’s inside. I’m heading to work now
He responded with a thumbs-up emoji just as she looked up to see Sheila giving her another real-life thumbs-up before going inside the center. The arrival rush had ended, and Sheila was done with her parking lot job for the day.
Gwen started her car, but couldn’t bring herself to shift into drive. She wasn’t ready for this. June wasn’t ready for this. Gwen couldn’t let down her baby again.
She opened her door, got out, left the car idling in the parking lot while she marched back inside.
Ms. Johnson and a couple of her assistants, whose names Gwen had already forgotten, were tending to the babies, eight of them in total.
When June saw Gwen come into the room, she started crying, and that was all Gwen needed to know what to do next.
“I’m sorry, I have to take her,” Gwen said to Ms. Johnson as they both approached June’s crib. Each of the babies had their own small crib.
“Mrs. Fisher, I assure you she’ll be just fine,” Ms. Johnson said.
One of her assistants, the middle-aged stout one with graying roots, said, “This makes it harder on the babies when the mothers do this.”
The mothers. The bothersome mothers.
“I’m sorry—she’s my baby, and I’m going to take her with me,” Gwen said.
She pushed past the barricade of Ms. Johnson and the stout woman and retrieved crying June from the crib. She grabbed the bag she’d packed for June from a cubby by the door, and then they were gone, ignoring the protests coming from behind them.
Gwen buckled June into her car seat and pulled out of the parking lot quickly. She saw Ms. Johnson and the stout woman and Sheila and the director of the facility, another forgotten name, standing at the entrance with looks of bewilderment on their faces.
Gwen took a left on Union, her brain still thinking she was going to work.
But now she had June, and she didn’t know what she was going to do.
She supposed she could bring June in with her to work, say that she just wanted everyone to meet her baby.
They couldn’t argue with that, even if they were expecting her to get back to the grind on day one.
She took a left on First. The law firm was on First. She glanced back at June, who had stopped crying and was staring out the window. When she looked back at the road, she realized she’d passed the law office and was coming up to the stoplight at Washington.
“Mommy’s brain is not working today,” she said to June.
She took a right on Washington, mentally calculating how to get back to First. That was how she ended up on Alaskan Way with all the signs directing drivers to the ferries.
There wasn’t time to premeditate what came next.
She would scrutinize her actions only later.
But she got into the left-turn lane and found herself at the tollbooth for the Bainbridge Island ferry, buying a round-trip ticket.
She pulled forward into the line of cars waiting to get on the ferry, put her car in park like everyone else.
It was only then, when her car was in park in the ferry line, that she wondered what the hell she was doing.
But she looked in her rearview mirror and saw several cars lining up behind her. There was no going back now.
She started to text Jeff, then stopped. She wasn’t sure what she was doing yet, didn’t know what to say. He would be worried. She decided to text Leigh, a Hail Mary.
Hey. Remember when you said we could be the crazy person to solve the Angeni Luna mystery? I’m getting on the ferry now. I know things have been weird and maybe you never want to talk to me again. But I miss you. Meet me on Bainbridge? Bring Belle. I’ve got June.
Her hands were shaking as she read it over once, twice. She felt the kind of thrill she imagined fugitives felt when they’d broken free and gone on the run.
The car in front of her started its engine. It was time to board. She started her car, and then she hit send.