Page 56 of Zone
A squeal from the den tells me Cricket isnotlying still waiting for me to return. I jump up, running to the den when I see she’s rolled onto her stomach and is kicking her legs right in her poopy diaper.
Baby shit is on my rug, all over her legs, the scent is rising.
“Jesus… Somebody help me!” I cry out in desperation.
I scoop her into my arms, not even caring that now we’re both covered in poop. I run straight to my bathroomand reach into the shower, switching on the water, and waiting for it to get warm. I stand with her clutched to my side.
Banging on my front door makes me hesitate. I’m holding this baby, and we both have shit on us. Is it possible this could be someone coming to help me?
Maybe my mom experienced all the guilt feelings she should be having right now (and I hope she’s havingallof them), and she turned around to come back? Or she sent Edward right away?
Leaving the water to warm, I dash across the living room as Cricket begins to do her little hiccuppy crying thing that means she’s on the fence about letting me have it.
I grab the doorknob, doing my best to keep my voice in check. I know if I shout, she’ll really cut loose into the full-blown, red-faced screaming.
“What?” I can feel the frustration coming off me in waves.
Then I freeze.
Melody Dunne stands in front of me in the hall, dressed in a track jacket over a long-sleeved tee and leggings. Her eyes are wide, and she looks like she’s witnessing a slow-motion train wreck.
Then her face scrunches, and she grabs her nose. “Oh, God! What is thatsmell?”
“Cricket, Melody. Melody, Cricket.” I introduce the two of them curtly. “Cricket shat her pants.”
Leaving the door open, I turn and walk all the way back to my bathroom. The water is warm now, and I step right into the spray, clothes and all, holding the baby against my shoulder as I let the water run over our bodies.
In clothes, I don’t have to freak out that I’m about to drop her on the smooth, travertine tile floor.
When she’s naked, she’s slippery as a bar of soap. I’m literally terrified I’m going to lose hold of her, and she’lldrown in that baby bathtub. Then I’ll go to jail for life on top of all of this.
See what I mean?Lemony Snicket.
Finally, when I’m sure we’re both free of baby poop, I switch off the water and grab a big towel to wrap around her. Holding her under my arm, I manage to strip off my soaked clothes and grab another towel to wrap around my waist, then I dry my feet on the rug.
Cricket watches the whole thing with wide eyes from where she’s perched in the crook of my arm like a football, andyes, I hold her like a football. I do not care. I have never dropped a football.
Melody stands in the middle of my living room when I return, looking all around like she’s in some sort of doomsday scenario.
She looks up at me. “What are you doing with a baby?”
“I have no idea.”
Her brow furrows, and she blinks from Cricket to me and back again. “She’s all wet.”
“Well, she rolled around in her poopy diaper.” I nod over my shoulder to the living room, and hiss. “Shit.”
“You can say that again.” Melody presses the back of her wrist under her nose. “Is it still in there?”
“Hold this.” I shove the towel-wrapped infant in her arms.
“Whooa! Oh, no…” Melody’s knees bend and she acts like she’s going to give the baby back.
I don’t have time for theatrics.
I run to the living room where sure enough, that crap-laden pamper is open with the contents smeared all around, including on my expensive Persian rug.
“Oh, fuck…” I bend forward, my throat tightening as I start to gag.
