"Sssh, shh, little monkey," Sarah says pacing in the dimly lit kitchen. Infant crying in her arms. Kira is a good baby. Very quiet. And very happy. That is, until she's in her mother's arms. The house was quiet when Sarah got home. Mrs. S was (hopefully) sound asleep. As was Kira. Sarah entered their room expecting to slip into bed and become dead to the world. Kira had other plans. Sarah didn't even get one step into the pitch-black room before the whimpering started.
"Come on monkey, what's wrong?" Sarah pleads. Her body rocks with unconfident shakes. Keeping Kira close to her chest as the baby wiggles and squirms. What kind of mother am I? I can't even tell what's wrong with my own kid. She glances at the bottle being warmed on the stove. She had already checked Kira's empty diaper. So that only leaves hunger…right? Maneuvering Kira to one arm Sarah grabs the bottle with two fingers. Quickly she sits down in a chair. Kira makes gurgling noises as she is moved into the position Mrs. S has shown Sarah many times. Shite, Sarah thinks. Quickly removing the bottle from Kira's tiny mouth. A string of berating sentences fill her mind for forgetting to test the bottle's temperature. Satisfied it will do no harm, she gives it back. Lips twitching upwards as little hands grab the bottle.
But the bottle is quickly pushed away. Crying going up in pitch. Lips falls to a frown. Shit. I can't do this. I can't. I don't know how. S is probably awake and muttering about how much of a screw-up I am. Her gaze falls downward. Kira's tear stained face bringing a stab of pain to her chest. You know it to, don't you? Shaky fingers run through dark hair. I'm better off just leaving you to S. Sinking into the chair, she lets her head fall back. She wishes she could block out the crying. But it's not possible. With a sigh Sarah sits back up. Lays the small infant in her lap and watches the unhappy child. I wish I could help you monkey. She didn't like seeing the creases in Kira's small forehead. Or the upset scrunch of her little button nose. Gingerly her pointer and middle finger trace a soft line from the spot of the third eye on Kira's forehead, down the bridge of her nose, and back again. Slowly smoothing each and every wrinkle. So mesmerized by the feel of soft skin Sarah didn't notice the quiet that claimed the room. The steady dripping from the sink. The faint noise of a clock ticking. Just soft, smooth skin underneath her rough fingertips. "There. That wasn't so bad? Was it chicken?"
"Wah?!" Sarah's body made a slight jump. Head snapping up. Siobhan motioned down to Sarah's lap. Where Kira lay breathing deeply. Asleep. "It only took you half an hour. I knew you could do it," Siobhan whispers taking note of the proud grin that was growing on Sarah's face. Turning away she doesn't forget to add, "We'll be talking in the morning about just why you felt the need to leave in the middle of the night while your daughter was alone in the room." Sarah's grin falters until she hears a soft content sigh. Looking down at the little body in her lap she can't stop the thought of Maybe…I can do this…from passing through her mind.