What Happened That Night

17

Saturday morning, I collected Lia, and we drove out to the garage sale. Despite the overcast day, there was no rain in the forecast.

“Do you have a list of what you need?” I asked.

“I need everything, except a crib. One of my neighbors gave me her old crib, which is still in perfect condition.”

“Do you think you’re going to need a second one?”

“I don’t know. Probably not at first, right?”

“Probably not. I don’t think Brandy had a second one for a while. We should’ve invited her to come along, given her experience with raising twins.”

“Yeah, probably.”

I studied my daughter, wondering about the uncertainty in her voice. My mind drifted back to the flight home from Texas and the birthday harbor cruise where the girls had been civil but distant with each other.

“Honey, what’s going on with you and Brandy? Did you have a disagreement?”

Lia’s hesitation told me everything I needed to know. “It’s nothing. Just a little difference of opinion. We’ll be fine.”

My mind flashed back to my falling out with Cheryl. I deeply regretted allowing it to build for all those years. “Promise me that you’ll talk to her.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Okay.” As signs for the garage sale came into view, I was overwhelmed by all the people and activity. Part of me wanted to abandon this bargain shopping in favor of one of the big box stores, but I knew that wasn’t practical. Neither Lia nor I had unlimited funds.

After being fortunate enough to snag a prime parking spot, we made our way to the strollers. I’d always found secondhand strollers to be pretty disgusting. Unfortunately, these strollers reinforced my belief with their stained seats and wobbly wheels.

Then suddenly I spotted a double stroller that looked perfect. Before anyone else could reach it, I bolted toward it, prepared to go to war for it.

“Lia, look at this one.” I gave the stroller a little push, impressed with the way it glided. It was perfect with two removable bassinets, top-notch brakes, and a big basket on the bottom with plenty of room for a large diaper bag.

Lia read the price tag. “Whoa. That is way out of my budget.”

Thinking I could buy it as an early baby gift, I glanced at the price. “No, this can’t be right.”

“It is. And it’s nonnegotiable.” She showed me the back of the tag where the seller had written that the price was firm. No exceptions.

“That’s more than your father and I paid for our first car.”

“Seriously?”

I nodded, strangely nostalgic over the past. Salvador and I had shared so many hopes and dreams in that car as we drove back and forth between the restaurant and our first apartment.

“This one might work.” Lia examined a different double stroller with stains, wonky wheels, and no cup holder. The bottom basket was barely big enough to hold an evening purse, let alone a diaper bag.

I shook my head, deciding at that moment I was going to take money out of my savings to buy the ridiculously priced stroller and whatever else Lia needed. Being a single mom was going to be hard enough for her. Helping her out financially was the least I could do for my daughter and her children.

* * *

After a successful morning of shopping,Lia and I entered her apartment, pushing the new stroller stuffed with gently used clothing, blankets, bottles, and a few toys.

“Hello?” called a familiar male voice from the bedroom.

“Papa?”

Sure enough, my ex-husband emerged from the bedroom, holding an electric screwdriver and looking exhausted. His brow lifted at the sight of me. “Oh, hey, Ruth Anne.”