She pivoted to walk into the compact living room. Open concept or not, the space was miniature compared to the old house she’d rented in Cyan. She did like how the kitchen incorporated a breakfast bar. However, with no space for a dining table, she and Justin had developed the bad habit of eating in front of the television. Someday, post-school, she’d get a job in a museum or work in an art studio, and hopefully earn enough money to get them a house with two bedrooms and a dining room. Right this moment she had to worry about getting by until her next CD payout. She sighed.
The next morning as she finished packing her book bag, she picked up her phone and pressed Morgan’s speed dial number. Before the call rang twice, she ended the connection. What would she say to him? “Hey, how do you like married life?” No, asking about his marriage to a woman who made her strip and leave a church in her underwear was a silly reason to call. Shania had to think of something substantial.
A sigh slipped from her as she glanced toward the bedroom. Justin wasn’t a morning person, preferring to sleep in and stay up late at night. Each morning he became a grumpy bear. She placed cereal in his favorite Diego and Dora bowl, added milk and replaced the half gallon in the nearly empty refrigerator. Routine activity would provide a sense of order. She needed the comfort of ordinary and separated the pulp from the orange juice. The few dribbles of the liquid went into a matching Diego sippy-cup. Procrastination was one of her weakness, so she arranged the dishes on the placemat and then strutted toward her adorable beast.
They always decided what clothes Justin wanted to wear the night before, and then placed them on the dresser in preparation. She leaned over him and smoothed a long lock to the side of his face. He resembled Beck in appearance and Morgan in attitude, mannerisms and personality. Sometimes Justin could be very stubborn and like his role model, Morgan, grit his teeth while placing his hands on his hips. A sharp ache tore at her chest. So much pain had occurred in the past three years.
“Justin, baby doll, it’s time to get up.” Her fingers created circles on his arm.
He yawned and snuggled down farther.
“Sister Agnes is waiting.” She ruffled his hair.
“No,” he responded.
“I need to go to class. Up! I have your favorite cereal,” she firmly stated.
His head popped from under the covers. “Crunch?”
Shania nodded.
He threw off the covers and climbed off the bed.
“Need help with the bathroom activities?”
“No. Big boy.” He yawned.
“That’s right. I don’t have a baby doll anymore. I have a big boy.”
He nodded and covered a yawn. Then, he shuffled out of the bedroom and into the bath. Sometimes she missed her baby, because he certainly was becoming a big boy.
* * * *
October continued to be warm, to Shania’s pleasure. Patterns formed–Class, daycare, study. Sometimes her personal preferences didn’t fit well into the professor’s schedule. Today was one of those days. The lecture ran over by fifteen minutes. Frantic, she hoisted her portfolio onto her shoulder and rushed to pick up Justin. The pain in her chest seemed more intense today, causing her breath to catch, and not because of running from the classroom. No, the ache had been present from the time she’d left Morgan at the church.
Would she ever be able to breathe normally again?
“Shania. Shania Miller.” A man’s deep voice rushed the words. A bit of anxiousness filtered through his tone.
She didn’t want to stop. Justin’s keen sense of timing made her run a little faster. Justin would worry.
“Wait up, Shania,” he shouted.
She sighed and pivoted a half-turn. “Dr. Raimo.”
Dressed in a dark blue polo and khakis, he approached her with a broad smile. She held out her hand, causing the portfolio to bang against her side. He was handsome, smart and kind, but her heart belonged to Morgan. Dr. Raimo wanted a friendship, but if he had more than that in mind, she’d have to refuse an invitation. There wasn’t room for their lives for a prospective lover or father figure. However, he was a sweet man, so out of respect she’d be nice and listen.
His dark brown irises lit with a fire as she looked into his eyes. Crap, the guy was into her.
He clasped her hand. Peppermint-scented breath rushed out in short puffs. “Shania, how are you doing? Classes going well?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, I need to go. I have to get Justin from daycare.” Her hand slipped from his grip. His eyes opened wide, no doubt because of her impolite behavior. She turned, her sneakers squeaking on the linoleum, hurried out the door and trotted down the sidewalk. She’d have to add rudeness to her growing list of unattractive qualities.
Two blocks later, she walked through the open oval oak door into the vestibule of the church. The scent of sage and frankincense assaulted her nostrils as it had each time she’d entered. One antique walnut staircase and three turns down a hallway later, she came to the lower level nursery. She peeked through the clear round pane. Her son sat at a child sized table drawing with crayons.
A rectangular face surrounded by white and black cloth obscured the window. Thick lenses enlarged dark irises in the deep set eyes. Shania jumped, her hand flying to her chest. The door opened. Sister Agnes’s large caped figure filled the space. Her beaded rosary swung out as she moved her generous hips. She was a force, and currently she blocked the entry.
“Miss Miller, you’ve come to collect your son?” Her whispered voice carried to Justin.
His face lit, and he scrambled from the table. Shania’s heart filled with happiness.
“Yes, I’m sorry I’m late. The class ran over.” Shania’s voice rang through the room.
“Some children are napping. Please keep your voice lowered.” Sister Agnes’s jowls jiggled like a bulldog’s.
“Sorry, Sister,” Shania softly responded as she stepped across the threshold.
Justin stowed his crayons and stuffed his miniature artist pad in his backpack. He rushed to her side.
“Miss Miller, I find it necessary to mention that Justin’s shoes don’t fit his feet properly. The mission store is open if you’d like to take a look.” Her nose turned down, allowing her to peer over her tiny square spectacles.
“Thank you, Sister, I’ll do that.” Shania grabbed Justin’s wrist. They made their way to the door. A roar filled her ears as her breath caught. The tears would have to wait. She refused to show weakness in public.
She held tight to Justin’s hand, exited the room and turned the corner. Up a small set of stairs she entered the Gently Used store. The scent of starch and buffed old leather assaulted her nostrils.
“Hi, Sister Magdalene. I’m searching for a pair of shoes for Justin. Has anything come in about his size?” Shania asked, while glancing at the clothing. Soon she’d have to buy him a new winter coat. The truth was she couldn’t purchase anything until her Certificate of Deposit matured in two weeks. In a moment of brilliance, she’d placed money in a number of CDs. Her research proved the deposits were a safe and efficient way of saving money. She made sure they matured at various times. She laughed. It wasn’t a well-made plan. Her books ended up costing twice what she’d allowed and between that and various other supplies, now she was strapped for cash.
“I’m sorry, Shania. Shoes go fast, out of the box, onto the shelves and into hands of the needy.” She shook her head, making her habit shake. “I do have a fine pair of cowboy boots which might fit Master Justin.”
She scurried to a wooden unit supported by bookshelves. Her nimble pale fingers tugged a lonesome pair of child’s red leather boots off the last rack. A bronco rider, with a lasso spinning above