Chapter 11. New Schedule; New Routines
1874 Words
Anne-Marie’s P.O.V
“Yucky!” Maryanne spits, slapping the pack of chocolate biscuits away. Immediately, her face crumples, and her mouth widens into a loud cry. She throws hands, kicks on my lap, and wriggles out of my grip, wailing in disgust and hunger.
Diana bends over to retrieve the biscuit pack from the floorboard, then shifts closer, using her handkerchief to wipe off the mess Maryanne spat out from my shirt.
“Mommy! Mommy!” She calls, throwing her head back and stretching. Her cap falls off.
“Maryanne?” I murmur, shaking my legs and rubbing her back to keep her calm. “Cheerios?”
She nods, but keeps crying, hitting my arm softly. “Mommy! Mommy! Ch- eros…”
I exhale in distress and lift my eyes to Beatrice, who has already turned to look at us. She picks up Maryanne’s cap.
And I ask her, “How many minutes away are we from home?”
“Er… About thirty?”
“Thirty’s too much. She’s gonna keep crying,” Diana says, still cleaning me up.
My baby has turned red. Her tiny fingers go to her scanty hair, pulling short strands in a tantrum. She only ate a snack I forced her to eat before takeoff this morning because she suddenly had no appetite. I packed everything she’d need in that bag because I knew once her appetite was back, she’d want all her favorite food.
I meet Marcus’ gaze in the rearview mirror. Worry is etched on his face.
“What can I do to help?” He questions, driving faster. “Do we make a stop to buy Cheerios?”
I shake my head. “She only takes boiled milk.”
“Boil–mik…” she blabbers as she cries.
“You want boiled milk?” I ask to keep her distracted.
“Yes.”
“And Cheerios?”
“Yes.” Her lips quiver. Tears spill down her red cheeks as she scratches her head.
“And apple?”
She takes her time, but she nods.
“Does she want an apple?” Marcus asks, looking over his shoulder. “Can she eat that?”
Relieved, I nod.
“We can get some apples at the mall. It’s only five minutes away.”
“Oh, great!” Beatrice expresses, turning to him. “It has to be green and a little soft.”
“Green and soft. Okay.”
In less than five minutes, we pull up at the mall. Marcus swoops into a parking space so fast, stops the car, and gets out.
“I’ll come with you.” Diana bursts out of the car, going after him. She’ll help him with his selection process.
Inside the car, Beatrice and I try to pacify Maryanne by singing and making silly faces. It only works for seconds, and then she breaks into more rounds of crying. “To eat… Mommy!”
I hug her against my chest, using one hand to rub her back as I shut my eyes. It’s taking every strength in me not to crumble and cry with her.
How am I going to handle college, work, and worrying about my baby? I think of her every moment I’m away from her. It takes her a while to adjust to changes. She only turned two in July, but has had to deal with so much due to my busy schedule.
“Mommy is sorry,” I mutter against her small head, stroking her back to calm her body. It trembles with every sniffle she takes.
Beatrice strokes my thigh, reminding me of her presence.
I take Diana’s handkerchief and use the clean side to wipe the mucus running from her nose. “Apple?”
She shakes her head, breathing deeply, already worn out from crying so much.
My door is yanked open, and Maryanne freezes, mouth open and her big eyes shifting to the side. I turn my head to see Marcus holding a wet, green apple to her. She just stares.
The other door opens, and my baby turns her head to the other side. Diana enters with a carton of whole-grain Cheerios. The exact one Maryanne likes.
“Ch- eros,” she mutters.
“Yes, Baby. Cheerios,” Diana replies, dangling the carton in her face. And she stretches her small hand out to reach it.
I turn to Marcus, holding his warm gaze.
“Here,” he says, offering me an entire bag of green apples. “Diana said she eats them every day.”
Reluctantly, I withdraw a hand from her back and take the bag from him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He says simply, withdraws, and shuts my door.
“Ch- eros,” Maryanne continues to babble, scratching the carton, now that it’s in her hands.
In a few minutes, we hit the road again. I glance at the rearview mirror, expecting him to meet my eyes, but he doesn’t. He just drives in silence. The car is quiet, except for Maryanne’s fussing as she struggles to rip open the carton.
Sighing, I lower my eyes and reach into the bag of apples to take one out. I bite into it, cut out a small part from the inside, chew on it a bit, then take it out of my mouth to offer Maryanne.
“Aaa,” I say to her just as she likes.
“Aaa,” she opens up and consumes, chewing to the best of her abilities. When she bobs her head, I know she’s enjoying it. So, I keep going. Soon, she drops the Cheerios carton and starts to get excited, jumping in my lap and making short giggles.
“Mommy, feed you… I feed you.” She claps, then stretches a hand toward the apple.
I bite a piece and offer it to her. She takes it from me, then offers it back. “Aaa,”
I open my mouth, taking it from her hand. She jumps in excitement, clapping again. “I feed you.”
She feeds me; I feed her. And the cycle continues, as is one of our many routines.
****
Our apartment is larger than I expected. There are three bedrooms, and Beatrice and Diana are letting me stay in the largest room. Rent is covered for the next two months. We have some furniture. Marcus got us a huge T.V. and an expensive purple sofa despite thinking we’re here on a girls’ trip. He saw our many suitcases and chose not to ask any questions. Maybe he figured things out after checking out our apartment. And me? I contributed nothing. Just freeloading.
In a corner of the open kitchen, I feed Maryanne her Cheerios while everyone’s busy moving suitcases upstairs and getting the apartment in order.
Guilt squeezes my chest. I press my lips tightly together, fighting the tears I’ve been holding back for weeks ever since I found out how much my friends spent to move their entire lives across the state and fund everything. I did my findings behind their backs. Maryanne’s daycare center is so expensive. I won’t be able to afford it with all the other bills I have to pay, even if I worked four jobs. But it’s the closest to college and the best around.
“Mommy?”
I blink, forcing my attention back to my baby. She offers her stuffed rabbit. I take it from her and set it aside.
“Mommy?”
“What is it?” I hold her small hands, shifting closer.
“I lobe you.”
My eyes water. I withdraw and quickly wipe my tears before she notices, or anyone else sees them. It upsets her to see me cry. Then I return to her again, brushing her smooth face. “I love you, too, my baby. So, so much. I love you.”
She smiles, bopping her head. It’s one of her favorite phrases to hear.
“Ch- eros.”
“Cheerios?”
“Mm.” She nods, and I keep feeding her.
Minutes later, I’m telling her a story and rocking her against my chest as she drifts in and out of sleep. If I stop talking, she wakes up, taps me, and says, “Mommy, story.”
“Anne-Marie?”
I turn around sharply, raising my eyes to see Marcus standing by the counter. With my baby in my arms, I rush to meet him, too embarrassed to utter a word.
“Beatrice told me you guys would be in Minnesota for a while.”
I nod and lower my eyes.
“She’s really cute.”
I raise my eyes quickly.
“Your little girl,” he finishes, flashing a brief smile.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome… I’ve got to go now. Got some work to wrap up before Monday, tomorrow.”
I nod and take a step to my left.
“You don’t have to see me out.”
And I halt in my steps.
“I’ll, um, see you around.”
“Okay,” I say and swallow the familiar lump in my throat. I should be used to this by now, but shame has always been painful. “Th–thank you so much for everything.”
He nods, slowly backing away. “It was my pleasure to help.”
“I’m so grateful. I’ll pay you back somehow. I promise.”
A short chuckle floats from his lips as he returns to the counter. He drops his elbows on it and leans closer. “All right. I’ll draw up an invoice. Start paying back by being my plus-one.”
My eyes widen in surprise.
“I had a feeling you were planning on standing me up.”
I have no words.
He laughs and withdraws finally. “Enjoy the rest of your Sunday, Anne-Marie.”
“You, too.”
*****
~Monday, 1st of September 2025~
Hand raised and fist tightened, I grip the grab handle on the packed bus, staring into space as people hit and bump into me. My mind is fixed on my little girl, replaying her reddened and crying face as I dropped her off at the daycare center minutes ago. All I wanted to do was run back in, grab her, and get back on a plane to all that’s familiar. But I no longer have options. As usual, I swallow my pain.
I spent my whole night planning my new schedule and routines with Maryanne. It will take us a while getting used to it; my baby always adapts; I hate myself for subjecting her to this kind of life, but routines keep me going and sane. It’s the only way I can function.
The bus comes to a halt, and with many others, I exit it, stopping to stare at the magnificent blue, black, silver, and ivory edifice.
NORTHBRIDGE UNIVERSITY.
I take a deep breath, pull the strap of my backpack, and head for the grand gates.
I’m two weeks late for resumption; I’m repeating junior year, but it’s my first day back in college after four painfully hard years on a break. All I want is my degree.
- Writer
