I let out a gasp.
‘He can walk!’ I said as I hurried towards him and scooped him into my arms and covered his face with kisses. He responded with smiles and a podgy fist on my face. It had been only weeks, but it felt like years.
D glanced backwards. ‘Oh yeah, he does that now.’ I had barely glanced at the other figure in the hallway, but now D was ushering him into the kitchen, where they closed the door. It was just Baby Boy and I left in the hallway. I was so giddy with euphoria that I hadn’t realised we had been sat, playing and cuddling for a good few minutes before D came storming out of the kitchen, locked the front door and put the key in his pocket. He glared at me as if I had already done something to deserve his fury.
He pointed his finger at me.
‘One hour,’ he said before he headed back into the kitchen and slammed the door. I felt the force of his silent threat and decided I would make the most of my time with my son. If I behaved now, then he would bring him more often. If I showed him I could comply, then I could prove to him that I was capable of fulfilling my role in this house and taking care of my baby. I was sure of it.
I immediately stood up with Baby Boy in my arms, took him to the next floor and slowly walked with him on my hip from bedroom to bedroom, talking to him the whole time. I wanted to fill his head with my voice and words so he would hear them in his dreams and echo through his head when he woke.
An hour came and went, and there was no sign of D or his accomplice. I longed for the dried milk to return to my breasts so I could nurse him once more, just the two of us in our own bubble. We had found our way to the top floor when I remembered seeing a simple tote bag at the door; it must have replaced the nappy bag I had bought when Baby Boy was born. I kept him on my hip and went back downstairs to the front door to retrieve the bag. I could hear the raucous laughter of D and his colleague coming from the kitchen. Baby Boy had grabbed my hair and was sucking it, so I knew he was hungry. I rooted in the bag for food or milk. I found a few cartons of formula and an empty bottle, which was a sad replacement for the breast milk that had enhanced our bond. How could I maintain any bond when I didn’t know when I would see him again after today? My heart ached for him and the confusion this must be causing him.
I rummaged through the bag and didn’t find any snacks. I knew by this point he should be experimenting with food and I thought about what I had to eat upstairs in my bedroom: packets of raisins and some crackers, finger food I was sure he would love.
Back upstairs on the top floor, we became so immersed in our own world of games, kisses and laughter, that I hadn’t noticed D enter the room. He had crept in so quietly that I wondered if he had been observing our primate behaviour. Perhaps it evoked some emotion within him. But whatever he had been thinking, it made little difference as I heard the words.
‘Time to go.’
I looked at the clock on the wall. Four hours had passed in a flash.
I felt my gut tighten. I began to speak but my words came out panicky and stuttered.
‘Maybe he could stay here. I know I haven’t been feeling myself recently, but I have a hold on things now. I wouldn’t let him out of my sight… I could easily do my job, in fact… I think I’d do it better—’
‘Pass the bag.’ D didn’t look at me as he held his hand out. I stood up from the floor where Baby Boy and I had been lounging together, oblivious to the time slipping away from us.
I stepped forward with my palms pressed together. I was going to beg.
‘Please, D, I need my baby, I need—’
The last part of the sentence was lost as D’s hand swiped my face with enough force to knock me backwards. My thigh hit the small table, which wasn’t strong enough to take my weight, even though there was barely anything of me. As the table shifted backwards, so did I until I had hit the floor. From where I lay on my side, I could see Baby Boy was crawling towards me. I reached out for him at the same time D stepped over me and scooped him up. He walked towards the door, then turned around.
‘You have a job to do. Get on with it.’
I looked at the empty doorway and listened to the squeals of my son getting quieter as they descended the stairs. I heard the front door slam. I lay my head onto the cold, hard floor and stared at the spot where Baby Boy had been moments ago. A flash of red caught my eye. Just under the sofa where I had been sat with my back against it, bouncing Baby Boy on my knee, was one of his red leather slip-on booties. I crawled over to the sofa, picked it up and held it against my cheek. I closed my eyes. An echo of his voice still lingered.
I wasn’t sure how long I lay there, but eventually something cracked within me. I couldn’t keep fighting any more. I was broken. I had only one choice, if I wanted to see
