The boys turned the corner, and I breathed out a big bunch of air I must’ve been holding in. I waited a minute or two just to be safe, and then I started talking to the little girl.
“Is your diaper wet?” I asked her, not really expecting she would answer me. It was more like talking to myself.
But she understood me, and she shook her head no.
I thought it was kind of amazing that she could hold it so long, but I guess looking back that’s kind of a weird thought because I had no idea how long it had been. I had no idea how long she’d been sitting in that car seat, or how long it had been since I found her there. But a few hours at least.
“You want some more apple juice?”
Then I wished I hadn’t asked her that, because the more apple juice I gave her, the more she was going to need to go. But you have to give a kid stuff to drink, because the littler they are, the more you can’t let them be dehydrated. I knew that from the time one of my little sisters was throwing up and had diarrhea. The doctor said it’s really important not to let them get dehydrated, so I figured diaper rash was less dangerous than that.
She reached right out, and I opened the bottle again, but I had to sort of turn her over so she was more facedown, because you don’t want that juice going down into her lungs and choking her. Well, not choking, exactly, because she could breathe around it, but it would make her cough something fierce. And coughing is loud, but also it wouldn’t be good for her.
She took about three sips and then we both heard it. We heard those boys coming back, retracing their steps along this avenue under the freeway bridge.
I could feel her gather her breath in, like gearing up to cry, and I almost panicked and put my hand over her mouth, but I didn’t.
Because I remembered a story we read in school.
It’s actually weird how much of it I couldn’t remember, like I didn’t know if it was a true story or fiction, and I didn’t remember if it was from a war, like World War II. I think it was World War II, and I think the people who were hiding were Jewish and hiding from the Nazis, but it could have been a lot of different wars and a lot of different kinds of people, because a lot of bad stuff has happened in this world, let me tell you.
I just remembered this lady, this young mother, covering her baby’s mouth with her hand so she couldn’t cry and give them away. And then when the soldiers were gone she saw that she had suffocated her own baby, which I thought was just the saddest thing I’d ever heard in my whole life.
But the thing I think is weirdest to not be able to remember was whether it was a total accident or not. I mean, did she know the baby couldn’t breathe? Maybe in her panic she didn’t know that. But the really scary thing is that maybe she knew full well what she was doing but it was still better than the other way around, because maybe her baby dying on her lap, in her hands, was better than what would have happened if the soldiers had found them.
Anyway, I know I’m getting off track, but I just had to say that I remembered that awful story, and that’s why I didn’t put my hand anywhere near that baby’s mouth.
Instead I just held up one finger and put it to her lips, because everyone knows that means “shhh,” even a baby.
I whispered, barely with any sound at all, “Brave girl, quiet girl.”
And she whispered back, “Brave girl, kiet girl,” and I swear it was even quieter than when I said it, which I didn’t think was possible.
They were talking to each other a lot down there, just passing under the freeway bridge again, right near where we were hiding. I figured that was good that they wouldn’t shut up for even a split second, because the more noise they made, the less likely they were to hear us.
“The problem is,” the dumb one said, “there are just too many places. In a city like this we just sort of have a problem with the number of places. You know what I mean?”
The smart guy said, “I never know what you mean. Not once that I can remember in all the time I’ve known you. And that’s such a long time it’s depressing just to think about it.”
There was also a quiet one, but he didn’t say anything—why do you think I call him the quiet one?—but I swear he was the most dangerous one of all.
“There’re too many places in the city where someone would hide and we wouldn’t think to look. It’s like they go on forever. There’s a word for that, but I can’t think of it. I can’t think what it is. What’s that word I’m trying to think of? When there’s no end to something?”
“Don’t try to use big words, idiot. They don’t suit you. Just say there’s no end to it.”
“But now I can’t think of that word, and it’s driving me crazy.”
“Ubiquitous,” the smart one said.
“What?”
“I think the word you’re looking for is ubiquitous.”
“No,” the dumb one said. “I don’t think it is.”
“Infinite,” the quiet one said.
Which was weird, because I’d literally never heard his voice before. The only reason I’m saying I thought it was him is because I could tell it wasn’t either of the other two.
“No,” the dumb one said. “That’s not it either. This is driving me cra—”
“Hey,” the smart guy said. I wish I knew their names to talk about
