Chapter 4
The mother stood there breathing hard.
Staring at the caregiver as if she were trying to reconcile the person in front of her with the person she had trusted inside her home.
The caregiver started talking.
She said there was an explanation.
She said the situation had been misunderstood.
She tried to explain the chili powder before anyone could decide what it meant.
I did not answer her.
The baby was still against my shoulder, and I could feel the small movement of his breathing.
The mother looked down at him.
His tiny hand had curled against my uniform.
She touched the back of his head.
That was when the caregiver’s friend bent down and picked up her bag.
She moved toward the exit without looking directly at either of us.
For a moment, it seemed as though she was simply trying to leave.
Then something slipped from the open side of the bag.
A sheet of paper fell onto the floor.
It landed face-up.
The caregiver’s friend did not notice.
I did.
I shifted the baby slightly higher against my shoulder and bent down enough to pick it up.
It was a care form.
At first glance, it looked routine.
Names.
Contact information.
Care instructions.
Emergency details.
Then I saw the line that mattered.
Emergency contact.
The baby’s information was filled in.
But his mother’s name was not there.
Instead, another person’s name appeared in the space where the emergency contact should have been.
A stranger.
I looked at the mother.
She was standing only a few feet away.
I held the duplicate form out to her.
She took it.
She read the name.
Her expression changed.
The caregiver started speaking again.
This time, she sounded less certain.
May you like
The mother raised the paper.
“Who is this?” she asked.
