Chapter 2
JODIE
“Will three changes be enough, or should I pack four?”
The phone’s on speaker on the bed, and even though I can’t see her, I can feel Clare’s eyeroll.
“Stop stressing already.”
Holding up a stained bodysuit, I discard it and rifle through the drawer, looking for something that is clean and not too worn. I can’t send Layla to daycare on her first day in dirty clothes.
“I just want it to go smoothly for her.”
“Three changes will be enough. What’s the worst that can happen? They put her in a spare set from the lost and found and you have lots of washing to do?”
My sister’s comments are supposed to be comforting, but all it does is remind me of the water bill that’s overdue and the fact I’m having to ration the heating to one hot bath a week because it’s all I can afford.
“You’re right. Three should be enough.”
But I stuff an extra pair of diapers into the already bursting bag. Just in case.
“I wish I could be there for my niece’s first day of daycare. Are you going to be okay?”
I know Clare means well, but she’s halfway down the country on her first tour and I don’t want to saddle her with my worries.
It’s been just the two of us for as long as I can remember, and I had to forcibly make her take the job or she wouldn’t have left me and Layla on our own. Her theatre group is touring its show around the state, and I couldn’t ask her to turn down the opportunity.
I wish you could be here too, I silently say. But I don’t want Clare to know how bad things have gotten here.
“We’ll be fine. I’m really looking forward to starting work.”
I say it so brightly that I almost convince myself.
The truth is, I’m scared about leaving Layla with strangers. Sure, we’ve had settling in days at the daycare, but this is the first time in the nine months since she came into my life that I’ll be away from her for more than a few hours. And even then, it’s only a five-hour shift.
There’s a cry from the next room, letting me know that Layla doesn’t like being left on her own.
“I better go, Clare. Good luck with the show tonight.”
“Good luck with the daycare drop-off. Call if you need me.”
We hang up, and I stuff my phone into my pocket and grab the overstuffed day bag.
Layla’s in the next room where I left her propped up with cushions and her favorite caterpillar toy.
Her face lights up when she sees me, making my heart warm and letting me know that despite everything—despite wearing secondhand clothes and having hot water only on Sundays, despite giving up going out with friends, despite giving up everything but looking after her—it’s all worth it.
“Hey, sweetie, you ready to go?”
I pick her up and shoulder the bag, which is way heavier than it should be.
I have a fleeting worry that I haven’t packed enough of her favorite snacks but rationalize that the daycare provides food so there’s bound to be something she likes.
I grab a banana and jam it in the front pocket of the bag just in case.
Then I’m out the door.
Bertha’s the most beat-up car in the parking lot of our block of one and two-bedroom apartments. I strap Layla in and slide into the passenger seat, trying not to get my clothes caught on the wire springs that are poking through the vinyl seats in alarmingly increasing areas.
The engine makes a horrible chugging sound when I turn the key, and I pray to the car gods that whatever force has kept Bertha alive longer than she should continues to be strong and hold her together for just a few more months.
“Come on, Bertha.”
A few more months is all I need. A few months of work to get the bills paid and put a little aside every month for a new car. Or at least a less old one.
The car gods must be listening because Bertha splutters to life.
“You beauty.”
Layla giggles as I pat the dashboard affectionately, and I adjust my mirror to see her smile in the rearview. I could spend all day looking at that smile.
But I need to look after her in other ways, so unfortunately that’s not an option anymore. Swallowing down my mother’s guilt, I reverse out of the parking space.
It’s a short drive to the daycare, the only one I could find with fees low enough to make going to work worthwhile.
I won’t be earning much over what it costs me to send her there at first, but I’m confident that over time my income will increase and just getting back to working will be worth it.
We pull into the daycare parking lot, and as if sensing my concerns, Layla gives an uneasy wail.
“It’s all right, sweetie. You’re going to have a fun day today, meet new friends.”
I hope she feels more reassured than I do. I get her out of the car and clasp her close as we walk up the steps.
The manager, Jan, comes out to greet us.
“Hello, Layla. You’re going to spend the day with us.”
Jan holds out her thick arms for Layla. This is where I’m supposed to let her go and let this kind woman take care of my baby. Instead, I find myself clutching Layla to my chest as a wave of possessiveness washes over me.
Jan sees my hesitation and smiles reassuringly.
“The first day is always the hardest,” she says kindly but firmly.
Layla looks to Jan and gives her a wide smile, holding out her tubby fingers to her. Great. Even my own daughter is better at separation than I am.
Jan takes Layla around the waist but I still don’t let go. I’ve never been without my baby for more than a few hours, and I’m struck by a sadness. It’s like handing over a piece of my own heart.
“She’ll be fine here. We’ll look after her real well.”
Jan is patient and kind, and she’s right. Layla will be fine, and I need to do this. I need to let her go.
With great reluctance, I pry my hands off my baby. Jan pulls Layla toward her, and my treacherous daughter giggles, giving Jan one of her winning smiles.
“Aren’t you a sweetheart,” Jan coos.
“She sleeps at about ten and then again after lunch, but if you leave it too late, she gets fussy.”
My voice breaks and I blink hard, willing myself not to cry.
“I know, Jodie,” Jan says patiently. “We’ve got it all on the file.”
Of course she does. I filled out forms and talked Jan through Layla’s routine. These women are professionals. They know how to look after a baby.
“Wave bye-bye to Mommy.”
Layla holds her fingers up to me, looking confused before Jan whisks her inside. Be quick, they told me. Don’t prolong the goodbye and don’t let her see you’re upset.
I wait until the doors close behind them before I turn away, swiping at the corner of my eyes.
I know I have to get back to work and earn money to support my daughter, but dang, it feels like I just left a piece of my heart in there.
“Pull yourself together, girl,” I mutter.
I’ve dealt with harder than this over the last eighteen months. I’ll get through this too.
I sit in the car until the pain subsides and my eyes are dry. Now, it’s time to get to work.