Esme
ON A BUS SOMEWHERE SOUTH OF CARLSBAD, CALIFORNIA
Geoffrey leaves us at the bus depot with a warm hug and all the cash in his wallet, even when I insist that I can’t take it.
“You need that, hon,” he says, closing my hand back over the money. “Pay it forward.”
Then he’s gone, and I’m on my own again.
The ride is long, made even longer by the headache of crossing the border. I don’t get much sleep because Phoenix keeps fussing from the second we pulled out of the station.
All the way through San Diego and Encinitas, he fusses. We stop and start and stop and start and passengers come and passengers go. And through it all, Phoenix fusses.
The other riders glare. Some complain, both under their breath and to my face.
But there’s not much I can do to quiet him.
Except of course for feeding him. Then he settles for a few minutes, but I’m aware that my milk isn’t coming in as fast anymore.
Probably because I haven’t had a real meal in more than twenty-four hours.
I’m feeling the effects of the IV drip fading, too. Whatever magic juice was in that stuff is disappearing faster and faster, and without it, I’m left feeling weak. My body aches everywhere too.
What I really need is rest. Food, safety, a warm place to lie down.
I’m not asking for much. But I don’t know where I’ll find even those meager comforts.
I no longer have the luxury of worrying about my own needs, either. Phoenix needs me and I need to get out of town.
I look down at him in my arms. In the last few hours, he’s finally fallen asleep. Nuzzled up against the sunshine yellow blanket that Gabby gave me and drifted off, though he still twitches from time to time.
For a little thing, he requires a lot.
I’ve already used and discarded five diapers. That fact alone is starting to panic me.
If he’s going to go through diapers at this rate, I’m going to run out far sooner than I expected. I have some cash left on me but I need to make this last couple of hundred dollars last at least a month or two.
I’m pretty sure that no one will be willing to hire a new mom.
And even if they would, what can I do with Phoenix?
My life feels like it’s collapsing slowly. Burning to the ground just like Papa’s compound did.
But I have no choice but to kick away the debris and move forward.
At last, the bus driver calls out the name of the town Geoffrey circled on a map for me. It’s nowhere I’ve ever heard of, which is perfect as far as I’m concerned. It’d be best if no one else ever heard of it, either.
The town is about an hour from the ocean. I wish it were closer, but beggars—which I think it’s safe to say I am at this point—can’t be choosers, right?
Still, my body itches for the ocean I grew up near. For the peace and calm that comes from being near salt water and ocean breeze.
But I can’t give in to those urges anymore.
Only one thing matters: keeping Phoenix safe. What I want is no longer important.
We descend to a squealing stop. I gather my things and shuffle my way off the bus.
It’s a relief to be off. But as the bus roars away, leaving me alone at the station with nothing but cockroaches for company, the old fears set in.