Page 15 of The Surrogate Nanny

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, standing to my feet.

“I’ll escort you to your car.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I refused. I left the courthouse and found my sedan in the parking lot looking as lonely as me. My breath caught in my throat when I eyed Nori’s car seat in the back.

She will not be riding home with me tonight...any night.

I sat in the parking lot, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles lightened.

“Fuck!” I screamed, repeatedly banging a fist against the steering wheel until it hurt. I welcomed the pain. At least I could feel it. Feeling something was better than nothing. It reminded me that I was alive. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screamed until my throat was raw. I rested my head on the horn. It blared, causing the crows on a nearby power line to flutter away.

I was a fool. I knew I had a .01% chance of winning. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.

I’m sure she’ll be happy. Eventually, she’ll forget who I am and live well.

I scrounged up the last of my resolve, started the car, and drove out of the parking lot. I drove without any real purpose, barely paying attention to the flow of traffic or the honking of horns as my vehicle crawled through the intersections.

I should call Nori’s daycare and tell them she’s not returning.

“Siri, call Daycare.” The line dialed for a moment, but in the end, I received the voicemail instead. “Hey! This is Nori’s mom...um...this is Simone Livingston. Nori won’t be returning to the daycare. Things didn’t go as planned in court today. She’s gone.”

I ended the call, hoping that the worst was over. My hope was short-lived when I remembered I had to break down Nori’s nursery. The tears returned. I thought I was all cried out, but the body had an excellent way of surprising you.

I have to move on.

I stopped at a gas station near my apartment and strolled the snack aisles. I needed something sweet, like a cake, something salty, like chips, and something alcoholic, like the $5.00 bottle of Pinot Grigio tucked at the bottom of the drink cooler. I made my selections and shuffled to the counter with an armful of sugar, sodium, and more sugar. I placed my items on the counter for the clerk to ring up.

“I’ll need $20.00 on pump three, please,” I murmured, placing my cell phone on the counter to wrestle my wallet out of my purse. The screen lit.

“Cute kid,” he complimented, nodding at the screen.

I smiled. “Thanks. She’s gone.”

Chapter Eight

Anthony

“Nori, honey. Please settle down,” I whispered, damn near on the verge of crying myself. The child had been crying nonstop since we left the courtroom, and that was hours ago. She’d long ago ripped the white bows out of her head, leaving her ponytails wild and skewed. Her face was red, splotchy, and streaked with tears. I tried feeding her, and she swiped the bowl of spaghetti off the highchair table with a forceful backhand, sending sauce and noodles splattered against her pretty dress and the pristine white walls. She flopped over like a fish in the highchair and cried out the only word I assumed she knew...Mama.?

The more I told her to calm down, the worse it got.

“You should give Simone a call. Maybe if Nori heard her voice, then she’ll settle down,” Jonathan suggested.

“No, I got this.”

“I think you were too aggressive. You could’ve done a gentle transition. You know, spend a few months getting to know Nori before taking her from Simone.” I ignored him and pulled a sauced noodle from Nori’s hair.

Most fruits, but lately, she’s discovered the joy of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

“Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” I murmured. I hobbled towards the pantry, wincing with each step without my cane. “It’s okay, Nori. I’ll have you right as rain in a few minutes,” I called out as I hastily prepared her sandwich. As a show of goodwill, I even cut it with a star cookie cutter I found in the back of the utensil drawer. I snatched a banana from the fruit bowl on the island and cut it into chunks before placing her meal on her table.

I slumped into a chair when the crying died to sniffles as she eyed her meal.

“Thank God,” Jonathan and I said simultaneously as we watched her curiously tackle the sandwich.

“Can I offer a bit of a suggestion?”

“Can I stop you?”