Storymania - Left Alone by Lisa James

Left Alone
Lisa James

LEFT ALONE

Just one glass of wine was all I needed. But the cupboard was bare. Nighttime had always been the worst time for me. It was the time when the demons in my mind beckoned relentlessly. I approached my baby’s crib and watched him sleep for a long time. Joshua was only 2 months old. I had been sober since I found out I was pregnant, but the days and nights were getting harder and harder to get through.

I touched his foot, grateful he was sound asleep. It had been a long three hours of crying. I went to the wicker rocker and sat heavily down. It was strange to sit there without the baby. I sat in this chair quite a bit trying to calm his crying fits. Today was an especially bad one. I was exhausted and fed up. A glass of cold wine would do the trick. I watched him through the slats in the crib and knew it was only a matter of time before I caved in.

I had thought about buying just a small bottle this afternoon while running my errands with Joshua in tow. I didn’t do it and I felt proud then. Now I just felt desperate. It was bitterly cold outside, he was finally asleep after three hours of crying, and I was worn to the bone. I wanted to run around the block in the snow and buy a bottle. Not asking for much, really. And hell, I had been good for almost a full year!

Wearily, I lifted my heavy bulk up out of the chair. My stomach was still so big and I hadn’t felt like myself in quite some time. I had no husband and no nearby family. But I had Joshua, and I was grateful for that. I wanted a drink, though, and I wanted it badly.

I approached the crib and leaned into it, my heart heavy with fear.

   I could smell the formula on his cheek as I leaned in to kiss his forehead. My eyes were blurred with tears, for I knew I would get that bottle tonight. I touched his balled up fist and kissed his face again. He was truly an angel in blue feetie pajamas.

I went to the tiny working kitchen and leaned over the sink. I splashed water on my face. I pulled back my uncombed hair, wrapped the blonde waves into a ponytail. It was seven p.m. and the stores would close in another hour. I had to make a decision soon.
My heart seemed to skip a beat as I thought of what I was about to do. It didn’t mean that I loved him any less. I loved his tiny toes, the red circular birthmark on his thigh. I loved the missing patch of strawberry blonde hair on the back of his head. His hair, the same color as mine. All he would do is sleep, anyway. I knew that now, because I would put him in and he would sleep for a few hours after a long crying bout. More than enough time for me to run out of the apartment and drive down to the liquor store. He’d be fine.

I found myself walking to the front door where my rubber boots sat on the mat. I picked them up and walked slowly back to the baby’s room.
I tugged on the other boot and thought again about waking Joshua. I knew he would not fall back asleep for a very long time, he hated being disturbed after eating. He would be cranky and he would cry and he would drive me nuts. It was so quiet now. The apartment seemed to ring with peace and solitude, only the outside screamed of the turmoil I felt. The wind whipped around the windows. Yet, I had to go out there. It would take moments really, and the baby would never even know. Here I was, the mother who wouldn’t even put generic diapers on her newborn because they weren’t good enough; here I was, Miss Perfect, running out to the store for a bottle of booze. Leaving her baby alone. What if he cried? Or his blanket got kicked off? What if he woke up and no one was there to hold him if he got scared of the screaming wind?

I found my old woolen coat and grabbed my keys. I ran down the stairs, two at a time, not even realizing I was holding my breath. The door to the outside was within reach, and I went for it. In my mind’s eye I saw a bottle of Chardonnay dangling in front of my nose like a carrot for a horse. Minutes, really, that’s all it would take till I was back in my warm apartment.

The car’s windshield was frosty and the locks on the door seemed frozen. The keys were not cooperating, they were not opening the door to my beat-up Nova. I was hoping Mrs. Benson wouldn’t be looking out her window. Her beady little eyes taking in every little detail. Oh, where is that young Janey going without her baby? Mrs. Benson’s piercing stare was the last thing I needed to see. The door finally flung open and I jumped in and slammed the door. I tried not to notice the empty baby seat. His pacifier lay there, along with a teddy bear he couldn’t even hold yet.

The car’s engine wouldn’t turn over. The car coughed and sputtered. My heart raced, and I had seriously considered running back in the house. But in my mind, the horrible deed was already done. I looked at my watch frantically. It had been five minutes already! I should have been at Bob’s World of Liquors by this time. I got out and started scraping the windshield. I forced myself to look up into the windows of the apartment. Would I see the baby looking out the window shaking his tiny balled up fist at me with shame? Or would it be Mrs. Benson tut-tutting her dentures?

  It started to snow as I headed away from the curb. I felt light-headed thinking I was halfway there. Halfway there. Nothing could stop me now.

A fool’s errand I was on. A drunken fool, a pathetic creature with a monkey on her back. Still, I pressed on, straining to see through the ice still clinging to the windshield. Such a dark night, no stars, no moon, just wind and fat flakes. I was crying and didn’t realize it until a salty tear slid into my mouth.
Just a few more blocks, one sweep down Maple, another down Oak. Halfway down Oak, I noticed something peculiar but couldn’t pinpoint it, it didn’t register until I was directly in front of the lone store. No lights on. The store was pitch black. There was only the red neon sign in the front window flashing “BOB’S WORLD OF LIQUORS—Best prices in town.” Frantically I glanced at my watch to see if it was after 8pm. My watch read only 7:30pm. I parked the car at an angle and jumped out to read the HOURS sign. There was a note attached at the bottom in red marker scrawl. “Closed due to family emergency.” My heart leapt into my throat. Was this a damned omen, or what? I was now crying openly. Just one bottle of wine, one bottle, that’s all. Machine like, I started the car and began to drive once more, but not in the direction of home. To another liquor store ten minutes away. Oh, I knew of all the liquor stores in a thirty mile radius. I would make it to Spirit Liquors in no time. Hey, I was out already, and Josh was sleeping peacefully. I just knew it. Motherly instinct.
Stopped at the intersection I noticed the knuckles on my hands were white from gripping the steering wheel. I forced myself to concentrate on the windshield wipers slapping the flakes away. A glass or two and I would feel one hundred percent less stressed, but my heart would not stop pounding. The thought never occurred to me to go back home.

“You’ve hit bottom when you stop digging.” That’s what they say in AA. Had I stopped digging yet? Apparently not. When the light changed, I pressed on the gas pedal and cursed the old lady in the Volkswagon in front of me. It is only a little flurry, for God’s sake. I was yelling into the rear view mirror hoping she could see my furious face and speed up out of fear. She didn’t. I sped around her, the pavement wet and slick under the Nova’s bald tires. It was a little scary for a moment there, the car fishtailed a bit, but we made it. I caught a glimpse of the old lady’s frightened face as I sped past her.

The rest of the way was a blur, occasionally I glanced at my watch. It was now 7:40 and I had been away from the baby for over twenty minutes. Over twenty minutes…which meant by the time I got back it would be at least a half hour. I stepped on the gas.

I remember circling the front of the store looking for a parking space until I finally decided to double park. Run in and run out. Simple. I threw the car in park and darted into the store. There were about 3 people on line. I grabbed a bottle of Sutter, and walked breathless to the counter.
”How’s the wife doin’ since the surgery, Dennis?” An old slumped over looking guy asked the man behind the counter.
I wanted to scream. Can’t Dennis bag the bottle of scotch while he answers this guy? Does he have to lean over the counter and say something? There were two people in front of me. There was suddenly a voice from behind me, directing a question to Dennis. She was a young woman around my age. “Excuse me, but could you tell me where I can find blackberry brandy?” She held a sleeping baby in a blue bunting. Baby looked about 2 months old. I gasped in my nervousness. The young woman with the long braids started to smile but then looked puzzled.
“Back of the store, hon, by the Vodka…see that sign?” Braided lady looked at the sign and than back at me staring at her baby. She smiled. I didn’t smile back. I wanted to scream, “Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Let me pay for my wine and get out of here!”

Dennis finally bagged the man’s purchases and helped the next straggly looking fellow. An old parka, a stringy beard, yellowed teeth. He smelled, too. Stupid drunk, I thought. Almost on cue, he turned and looked at me, his hands shaking as he clutched his small brown bag. He smiled. Guess all us stupid drunks recognize each other wherever we go…no matter what we look like.

The next thing I knew I was running for my car, forgetting my change of eighty-seven cents. “Lady…” was all I heard. I felt so incredibly relieved, yet so incredibly guilty. I looked at my watch. It was 7:55. Ten minutes in that damn store, and now another ten minutes I had to get home again. If all went well. I drove with one hand and debated whether or not to open the cap and take a quick sip. Soothing, it would be. Very soothing. God, how I missed my tiny safe apartment, my sleeping innocent baby. I felt like a worthless bum, not even worthy to have a baby. But a part of me way down deep sure was glad I got that bottle before the store closed.

I twisted the cap off at the intersection five minutes from my apartment. Five minutes! I can do this, I thought. I bent over the seat of the car so no one could see me and I took a big sip. It felt warm and soothing all the way down to my toes. A horn suddenly blared behind me and I jumped, spilling wine all over my coat. I stepped on the gas. I have to get home, have to get home. With wet fingers, I turned on the radio. Need to hear some tunes to get my mind off my journey. My hands were shaking.

  I looked in my rear view mirror, and saw a blue and white police car. Had be been following me? My heart skipped more than a few beats. Frantically I grabbed the bottle and shoved it under the passenger’s seat. The siren went on, he was so close behind me that the blue and red light seemed to be flashing inside my car. I was too afraid to look back. I could barely breathe. After this policeman pulls me over, I knew I would never see my son again. They would arrest me for driving under the influence, and for child abandonment. They would take Joshua away and I would never see him again. Tears stung at my eyes as I pulled over to the curb and waited. Unbelievably, the cruiser sped right past me, chasing a man on a motorcycle.

I let out a deep breath and slowly pulled back out into traffic. My mind was an absolute blank when I finally, an eternity later, arrived home. I reached for my bag, the bottle of Chardonnay from under the seat and ran to the door, snow swirling in circles at my feet. My heart was beating in my ears. The baby, I could hear the baby….he was crying! Screaming!

Was Mrs. Benson knocking on my door right now to tell me to quiet the baby down, she needed her rest…and why wasn’t I answering the door? Suddenly the door flung open in apartment 3B, the apartment next to mine. Out stepped Mrs. Benson. I tried to slip the bottle under my coat, but it was too late. Her beady little eyes saw it. She looked back at my face. “THERE you are! Your baby has been screaming for some time now…” I pushed passed her as I fumbled for my keys, not realizing that they were already in my hand, not in my pocketbook. “You didn’t go out and leave that poor baby all ALONE…did you?” She clutched at her gnatty little housecoat and looked at me as if I were a common criminal. The tops of my ears to the bottom of my feet felt hot with shame. I was worse than a criminal, I was a monster.

I finally swung the door open, and I dropped the bag and the bottle on the floor. Mrs. Benson tried to follow me in, but I turned and pushed her back. Her horrified beady eyes widened in shock. I slammed the door. I ran to the crib, my arms outstretched. It had been almost an hour since I left my child. He was crying, his face puffed red, his eyes closed tight. He was kicking his little feet angrily as I picked him up, tears streaming down my own cheeks.

Instantly he seemed to melt into my arms. I hugged him into my heart and heard myself saying over and over, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry”, almost like a lullabye. I kissed his face so much, he started to cry again. My guilt was incredible. Was I still glad I ran out to the liquor store? I searched my heart and was not quite sure. That scared me more than anything.

With Joshua in my arms, I walked to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of formula from the door. As I waited for the bottle to heat up on the stove, I hummed “rock-a-bye-baby”. He seemed much happier. I sat down with the bottle on my favorite chair and watched him suck down the formula. His lashes, those beautiful long butterfly lashes were still wet with tears. My heart broke a little more.

I felt safe again with Joshua. There wasn’t a sound from Mrs. Benson, thank goodness. I looked towards the front door. My bag was lying there with my keys. My throat felt parched. The paper bag was next to it on the black and white tiled floor. I noticed the paper bag looked a little wet—probably from the snow.

Horrified, I remembered how I had run into the apartment in my fervor to get Joshua. Slowly, I got up, the baby still drinking his formula in my arms. I crept towards the door, afraid of what I knew I was going to see. I got down on my knees and with one hand I carefully lifted the bag. I could smell the wine seeping through the bag. There was a puddle underneath the paper. Just a small crack was all it took. In my quest to hurry to my son, I had dropped the bottle on the floor. I started to cry, the tears coming slowly at first. I fell back onto the tiled floor, Joshua still drinking his formula in my arms. I sat there on the floor for a long time. I cried for myself, I cried for my baby, and I cried for the broken bottle that was no longer there to soothe me.

end