Perdu Dans La Vie

She wanted milk for the baby; milk, diapers, and a loofah, whatever the hell that was. It is nearly one am and I don’t understand why this couldn’t wait until at least six, but I am happy to get away from the crying for a few minutes; my wife’s, not the baby’s.

Ever since he was born, she’s been a mess. Always tearing up, screaming, saying she doesn’t deserve to be loved, and saying she is a bad mother. She won’t see the doctor, no matter the degree of my insistence. I think she has that post-partum whatever.

An employee hands me a green loofah, rolling her eyes and smirking. It appears to be a round, spongy thing. I don’t recall asking for help, but I must have. God I need sleep. Finding my own way down the aisles and collecting the diapers and milk, I make my way towards the register. Passing the fresh baked goods, I impulsively grab a slice of chocolate cake. Maybe the wife will appreciate the cake, or maybe it will make her cry because she thinks it will make her fat; in which case I will appreciate the gooey sweet chocolate. Either way is a win for me.

I pay the cashier and grab the bag in one hand, the jug of milk in the other. “Have a nice night.” He calls. He’s a scrawny kid with pimples, probably working to pay for school or some illegitimate child. Poor bastard. I disregard his well-wishing as I push through the only non-automated store door in the country.

As soon as the crisp air hits me, I regret walking. It was only a few blocks, and I figured it would give me more time out of the house, but it must have dropped six degrees since I entered the store. I start walking briskly, trying to ignore the milk as it freezes to my fingers. I am forced to slow down as I get winded. I’m out of shape too. There’s just not enough time to work out; not enough energy. Or maybe I just don’t care anymore. Can men also get the post-partum? I pass a guy who is leaning against a brick wall in an alley and smoking. I nod nervously and he tilts his cigarette towards me in response. I hurry past.

“Hey!” I freeze, hearing the gruff voice. Feeling my heart pounding in my ears, I slowly turn. “Got any change?” I reach for my wallet and hand him the only cash I’ve got; a five-dollar bill. “Thanks, man.” He glances at my bag and shakes his head slightly. “Take care.” He turns back to the alley and takes a long drag, a cloud of smoke surrounding him in the dim streetlight. I’d kill for a fag; gave ‘em up when we learned we were expecting. I force myself not to turn back and ask him for a puff off his and continue home.

An old woman, maybe in her 70’s, hobbles by with a cane. She shouldn’t be out alone, I think, especially at this time of night. Where is her family? Where is her home? I glance at her, shaking my head in bewilderment.

Suddenly, a jarring boom echoes in the darkness. I turn back; the old woman is gone. I drop the milk and sack, sprinting towards the alley. “Leave her alone!” I call to the man who I had given money to not three minutes ago. I round the corner and stop dead in my tracks.

“Don’t move.” She picks up her cane from the ground and raises a gun to my head.