Chapter 7
JORDAN
The grocery store should be a nightmare with a baby, but somehow Alexa makes it look effortless.
She grabs a cart and settles Henry in the front seat like she’s done it a thousand times. When he starts to fuss, she hands him her keys to play with. When he drops them, her son Ash picks them up with a grin.
“Here you go, buddy,” Ash says, dangling the keys in front of Henry’s face. Henry immediately reaches for them, completely distracted from whatever was bothering him.
Ash notices me watching. “Babies are easy once you figure out what they like,” he explains.
Easy. Right. If only I’d figured that out yesterday.
We walk through the automatic doors, and I’m immediately overwhelmed by the sheer size of the place. I shop here regularly, but always for single-person meals. Frozen dinners, protein bars, coffee. The kind of food that requires minimal preparation and even less thought.
This is different. This is shopping for a tiny human who depends on me for everything.
“First things first,” Alexa says, stopping at the baby-food aisle. “How much solid food is Henry eating?”
I stare at the shelves of tiny jars and pouches. Dozens of options in every color imaginable. Sweet potato and apple. Chicken and vegetables. Something called “superfood blends” that costs more per ounce than my morning coffee.
“I honestly don’t know.”
Alexa doesn’t make me feel stupid for not knowing. She just pulls out her phone and shows me a chart. “At six months, he should be eating solids twice a day, maybe three times. You’ll want to start simple. Sweet potatoes, bananas, avocado.”
She starts loading jars into the cart while explaining the difference between purées and finger foods. Stage One, Stage Two, organic versus conventional. There’s apparently a whole science to feeding babies that I never knew existed.
“See these?” She holds up a jar of something orange. “Sweet potato is usually a safe bet. Most babies like it, and it’s gentle on their stomachs. You can also mash up a regular sweet potato if you want to make your own.”
“Make my own?”
“It’s actually easier than you’d think. Steam it, mash it, done. It’s healthier and fresher. But jarred food is fine too, especially when you’re just starting out.”
I try to absorb everything she’s telling me, but mostly I’m amazed at how naturally this comes to her. She moves through the baby section like she has a mental map of every product and its purpose.
“What about this?” I pick up a box labeled “Baby Cereal.”
“Good choice. Rice cereal is usually the first solid food babies try. You mix it with formula or breast milk.” She pauses, realizing what she just said. “Formula, in Henry’s case.”
Breast milk. Right. Another reminder that Henry should be with Amy, not with his uncle, who doesn’t know the first thing about raising a baby.
I push the thought away. Amy will get better. She has to. Until then, I need to focus on keeping Henry healthy and happy.
“You really know what you’re doing,” I say as we move toward the produce section.
“Nine years of practice.” She selects bananas that are perfectly ripe, not too green but not spotted. “Plus, my grandmother taught me a lot about nutrition when I was growing up.”
“You grew up with your grandmother?”
Alexa’s hand pauses on a bag of apples. “Mostly, yeah. My parents weren’t really…” She glances at Ash, who’s busy making Henry laugh by playing peek-a-boo. “Let’s just say my grandmother was more of the parenting type.”
There’s something in her tone that suggests a story I recognize. Different details, maybe, but the same underlying theme of adults who weren’t equipped to be parents. I want to ask more, but there’s a careful way she says it that tells me this isn’t the time or place.
“She sounds like a good woman.”
“The best.” Alexa’s smile is warm but tinged with sadness. “She taught me everything I know about taking care of people. How to make a house feel like home. She left me the house when she passed six years ago. Ash and I have been there ever since.”
So, she’s been in that house most of her life? That explains the lived-in feeling I’ve noticed from my occasional glimpses through windows, the way everything seems settled and comfortable. It also explains why I’ve never seen a man around. She’s raising Ash alone.
“That must be nice, having that kind of history in one place.”
“It is.” She hands me a bag of sweet potatoes. “Some people think it’s boring, never leaving your hometown. But there’s something to be said for roots.”
“I can imagine.” I can, actually, though it’s hard to picture. I’ve lived in the same house for three years now, but it still feels temporary somehow. Like I’m just staying there until something better comes along.
“What about you? Have you always lived in Boston?”
“Most of my adult life. I grew up in the suburbs and moved here for my residency and never left.” I don’t mention the years before that, the succession of foster homes and group homes that made the concept of “home” something I had to learn as an adult. “The city grew on me.”
“Where did you do your residency?”
“Boston General. Same place I work now.” I realize this is the most personal conversation I’ve had with anyone outside of Amy in months. “I’m in oncology.”
Alexa stops pushing the cart for a moment. “That must be difficult work.”
“It is. But it’s also rewarding. When treatment works, when patients beat the odds…” I trail off, thinking about Mrs. Reyes and the promising results from her latest scans. “It makes the hard days worth it.”
“Ash, what do you think Henry would like?” Alexa asks, redirecting the conversation away from my work. It’s a smooth transition, and I appreciate her instinct to include her son.
“Maybe some of those baby crackers?” Ash suggests. “The ones that dissolve when they get wet?”
“Good thinking.” Alexa grabs a box of something called “puffs” from the shelf. “These are perfect for babies Henry’s age. They help with motor skills.”
We continue through the store, Alexa effortlessly selecting items while keeping up a steady stream of conversation with both me and Ash. She knows exactly which formula to buy as backup, which diapers are the best value, and which wipes are gentle enough for sensitive skin.
In the diaper aisle, I’m once again overwhelmed by choices. Sensitive skin, overnight protection, swimming diapers, training pants. When did something as basic as a diaper become so complicated?
“These are good,” Alexa says, grabbing a pack. “The sizing runs true, and they don’t leak. Trust me, leak-proof is worth paying extra for.”
“How do you know all this?” I ask as she adds baby wipes to the cart.
“Trial and error. Lots of error.” She laughs. “When Ash was little, I tried every brand on the market, trying to find ones that worked. Some babies have sensitive skin, some are heavy wetters, some are just particular about what they like.”
“And Ash was particular?”
“Ash was everything. Sensitive skin, irregular eating schedule, didn’t sleep through the night until he was almost two.” She ruffles his hair affectionately. “You were worth every sleepless night, though.”
Ash grins at her, then turns back to Henry. “Want to see something cool?” He makes a silly face that gets Henry giggling. The sound is infectious, and I find myself smiling despite the overwhelming nature of baby-supply shopping.
“You’re good with him,” I tell Ash.
“Mom says I have a gift with kids. She used to bring me along when she babysat because the kids liked having someone closer to their age around.”
“That’s smart.” I look at Alexa. “You used to babysit a lot?”
“All through high school and college. It was good money, and I enjoyed it. Plus, it gave me practice for when this guy came along.” She nudges Ash gently.
“Did you always want kids?”
The question comes out before I can stop it, and I immediately worry it’s too personal. But Alexa doesn’t seem to mind.
“Always. My grandmother used to say I was born to be a mother.” Her expression clouds slightly. “Of course, I thought I’d be married when it happened. Had the whole thing planned out.”
There’s a story there, but she doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t push. Whatever happened with Ash’s father is clearly not something she wants to discuss in the middle of a grocery store.
The absence of a wedding ring, the way she talks about raising Ash alone, the careful way she mentioned having things “planned out”—it all points to someone who left.
I find myself wondering what kind of man walks away from a woman like Alexa and a kid like Ash.
Someone who clearly doesn’t know what he lost.
But it’s not my business, and the last thing I want to do is pry into something painful. I know what it’s like to have parts of your life you don’t want to explain to strangers.
We make our way to the checkout line, the cart now full of baby supplies that cost more than I typically spend on groceries in a month. Alexa helps me organize everything on the conveyor belt, explaining the purpose of each item as we go.
“These are for teething,” she says, holding up a package of rubber toys. “Henry’s probably going to start getting his first teeth soon. When babies are teething, they want to chew on everything.”
“How will I know if he’s teething?”
“Drooling, fussiness, wanting to put everything in his mouth. Some babies get a low fever.” She pauses the checkout process to show me the toys. “These are safe for him to chew on, and you can put them in the freezer. The cold feels good on sore gums.”
The cashier, a teenager who looks like she’d rather be anywhere else, scans items with mechanical efficiency. But even she smiles when Henry babbles at her from his seat in the cart.
“He’s cute,” she says. “How old?”
“Six months,” I answer, feeling a small surge of pride that I knew the answer.
“Is this your first?”
I open my mouth to explain that Henry is my nephew, but Alexa smoothly intervenes. “He’s learning as he goes.”
The girl nods knowingly. “My little brother was like that. It gets easier.”
As we load bags into my car, I’m struck by how different this shopping trip was from my usual quick runs for the basics.
This felt like… family. The easy interaction between Alexa and Ash, the way they both naturally included Henry in everything, the assumption from strangers that we belonged together.
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like I belonged anywhere outside of the hospital.
“Thank you,” I tell Alexa as we secure Henry’s car seat. “For all of this. I would have been completely lost in there.”
“It’s no problem. Everyone needs help sometimes.”
Watching her navigate all of this while keeping Henry happy makes me realize just how out of my depth I really am. But more than that, it makes me realize how much I need someone like her in my life right now.
“You make this look so easy,” I tell her as we wait for Ash to get buckled in.
“Trust me, it wasn’t always this smooth. The first few months with Ash were…” She shakes her head. “Let’s just say there was a lot of crying. From both of us.”
Ash looks up from fastening his seat belt. “I was a difficult baby, wasn’t I, Mom?”
“You were spirited,” Alexa corrects with a laugh. “There’s a difference.”
The easy affection between them is obvious, and I find myself envying their relationship. Not just because they have each other, but because they’ve built something stable and warm despite whatever challenges they’ve faced.
By the time we pull into the driveway, I’ve made a decision. I need help, and Alexa clearly knows what she’s doing. More than that, Henry responds to her in a way he hasn’t responded to anyone else, including me.
“Alexa,” I say as we get out of the car, “I have a proposition for you.”
She turns to look at me, eyebrows raised. “What kind of proposition?”
“I need help. Not just with grocery shopping, but with everything. I have no idea what I’m doing with Henry, and you clearly do.” I take a breath, trying to find the right words. “Would you be willing to help me learn? I’d pay you, of course. Whenever you’re available around your work schedule.”
Alexa exchanges a glance with Ash, who’s unbuckling Henry from his car seat with the confidence of someone who’s done this before. “Actually, I’m between jobs right now. So my schedule is pretty flexible.”
“Between jobs?” The relief in my voice is probably embarrassing, but I can’t help it. “So it’s perfect!”
She laughs. “I suppose it is. But I should mention that I’d need to bring Ash with me sometimes, when he’s not at school. And once I do find another job, my availability will change.”
“That’s fine. More than fine.” I look at Ash, who’s successfully gotten Henry out of his seat without any crying. “Honestly, I think Henry likes having Ash around.”
“He does seem to respond well to him.” Alexa looks thoughtful. “What exactly would you need me to do?”
“Everything. Teach me how to feed him, change him properly, figure out why he’s crying, and how to get him to sleep.” I realize I’m rambling but can’t stop. “I took a month off work to figure this out, but I’m starting to think a month isn’t going to be enough.”
“A month is plenty of time to learn the basics,” Alexa assures me. “Babies have patterns. Once you figure out Henry’s pattern, it gets much easier.”
“So, you’ll do it?”
“I’ll do it.” She grins. “When do you want to start?”
“How about right now? I have no idea what to do with all this baby food we just bought.”
Alexa laughs. “Right now, it is.”
As we walk toward my house, with Henry content in my arms for once, and Ash chattering about all the things he wants to show me about taking care of babies, I feel something I haven’t felt since I brought Henry home.
Hope.
Maybe I can’t do this alone, but I don’t have to. Help has been living right next door this whole time, and I was too proud to ask for it.
Not anymore.