He finally made it home, to his own apartment. He takes a seat on the couch, and attempts to ignore the magnitude of the day his entire family has just endured. Everything he thought that he had learned from his trip to Iceland, none of it seemed to matter. Alone, in his one bedroom, he feels completely alone, again. He passes out on the couch, in front of the TV.
When he wakes up the rain is pouring. He looks out the window, and sighs realizing how fitting all of it is. He realizes loss never gets easier. He feels as if the sense of purpose he's thought he's found… suddenly it doesn't seem like enough. He heads into the kitchen to make a bowl of cereal. He reaches into the cabinet, and pulls out a blue plastic bowl. As he sits it on the counter a noise from outside his door catches his attention. He turns towards it, trying to identify what it is, and where it is coming from.
It sounds like a mewing kitten. He furrows his brow in intrigue as he heads towards the door. He unbolts the door. He pulls the door open, and looks around outside. He sees nothing in the hallway. Before he closes the door he looks down. He finds a cardboard box that has narrowly escaped the downpour. The cardboard box is covered with a towel. The mewing sound has dissipated. He picks up the box, and carries it into the apartment.
He places it on the couch, and looks at it in fear, realizing that it's much too heavy to be a kitten. He takes a deep breath, and pulls the towel back. He stares at the contents of the box in horror. A tiny baby lies inside of the box wrapped in a towel. He lifts the pale, lifeless looking baby from the box. He makes a beeline for the pile of clean laundry on his kitchen table. He pulls out a freshly laundered pillow case, and replaces the damp towel. Panic sets in as he assesses the baby.
He holds his breath, waiting for the baby to take one. He feels relief as the baby's chest rises, and falls. He touches the baby's foot, and realizes how cold it feels. He places it against his chest, and wraps the warm pillow case around it. He pulls his phone out of his pants pocket. His mother answers him on the first ring.
"I need you to come over here."
"Toby," she yawns, "It is six thirty in the morning. What are you doing up so early?"
"I need you to come over here now. I have a little situation on my hands."
"What situation."
"Mom, please."
"Okay," she agrees.
He hangs up, and tosses his phone in the laundry basket. He looks down at the infant in his arms. He pats the infant's back gently. He moves towards the couch. He pushes the box onto the floor. He takes a seat, and lays the baby on the couch, in front of him. The baby's color moves towards pink, and its breathing pattern appears more normal. He touches the baby's cheek. The infant's eyes begin to open.
"Hey, little one. How did you get here? Huh?"
He does a quick assessment of the baby who still has an umbilical stump. He carefully unfastens the diaper. He refastens the diaper after determining the baby is a girl. He lifts her off the couch, and places him back against his chest. He recovers her with the pillow case. She begins to cry.
"Shh! Shh!" He repeats. The crying grows louder, and louder. He begins to pat the little girl, praying it will help. It doesn't. He vacates his seat on the couch. He looks in the box for something to help the situation. He finds a pacifier, and pops it into her mouth. The crying ceases. He finds a note inside the box. It reads; Toby, please take care of her. There is no signature, and the note isn't handwritten.
By the time that Kathryn has arrived the baby girl has fallen back asleep. She rests in his arms, swaddled in a pillow case. He hears her knocking on the door, but he doesn't attempt to get up off the couch.
Instead he calls out, "Come in."
She enters the apartment, carrying a travel mug full off caffeine. "Toby what was so pressing?" She questions, closing the door behind her.
He doesn't respond to her question. He waits for her to turn around. She takes one look at him, and all color drains from her face.
"Why are you holding a baby?" She wonders as her eyes widen.
"That's what I would like to know," he responds.
"Where did it come from?"
"I found her in a box in front of my door this morning. I don't have any idea how long she was out there. I don't have any clue who put her out there?"
"Is it yours?" Kathryn questions as she approaches.
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"I am fairly certain," he nods.
"Did you call the police?"
"I called you," he points out.
She manages to take a seat next to him. Without a word she slips the sleeping baby out of his arms.
"She still has an umbilical stump," Toby informs her.
Kathryn carefully unwraps the baby. She shakes her head in disbelief, and re-wraps her. "We should call the police, and see if they can figure out who she belongs to."
"Whoever it was didn't want her."
"How do you know?"
He pulls the note out of his back pocket, and hands it to her. "Nobody you know has been pregnant lately?"
He thinks back, "No, I don't think so."
"Think harder," Kathryn insists.
"The neighbor."
"What neighbor?"
"The downstairs neighbor. I think she was pregnant."
"So maybe it is her baby?"
"I guess that would make sense."
"How?"
"I could hear her and her boyfriend fighting all of the time. It seemed like every time I saw her she had a new bruise."
"I will go downstairs, and see if I can find someone."
"What am I supposed to do?"
"Hold her."
"Mom?"
"Yes?"
"I think that she's hungry."
"Let me go downstairs, and see if I can find someone."
"Okay," he nods in agreement.