E woke up and was hungry and there was no avoiding going to the store today. We needed yogurt, milk, berries. I grabbed my coat and E and jumped out of the window. B was still asleep and I thought if I just do this one thing quickly, if I just leave him here and run, I’ll be able to get him a warm roll and won’t even have to wake him. He can’t, I thought, he almost certainly can’t, get out of his crib on his own. Hurrying, I slipped my feet into the little yellow shoes, they were at least two sizes too small for me but I squeezed into them anyway and, carrying E, ran off to the store. See? I said shouting as we ran a bit through the wet grass and hopped over the planter out onto the sidewalk, See? Isn’t this fun? We’ll be back before B wakes up. He’ll think we flew.

At the store I filled my bag with this and that, grabbing anything. As the minutes passed I felt less sure about leaving B, less sure that he wouldn’t wake, less sure that he couldn’t get out of his crib. The seconds twisted into me and I felt the whole world tightening around my shoulders. I fought for berries with all the other greasy-haired mothers, we all needed the best. We all, each one of us specifically, needed the best berries with which to feed our very special children. We all took turns fingering the avocados. We looked at each other out of the corners of our eyes. We peered down into each other’s shopping baskets. They were too ripe, the avocados. Slightly too. We recoiled. We all knew about vitamins and nutrients, we all knew about the dangers of over-ripe and under-ripe fruit. We all knew all about it.

The girl ringing up the purchases beeped through everyone’s baskets very slowly. Everyone in line in front of me had baskets filled with things. When it was finally my turn I slammed the croissants down so hard that half of them were flattened, and the checkout girl, young, solicitous, with no baby at home, either inside his crib and smothering or outside and imperilled by literally every single thing, sent the shop assistant all the way to the back of the store to get new uncrushed and freshly baked ones.

Outside, E wanted to walk. She was tired of being carried. I put her down and tried to make a game out of running together. See? I couldn’t see the apartment. It was just around the corner but I couldn’t see it. I began to find breathing difficult and a pain started up in my chest.

E, I said, E, let’s run. But she wouldn’t. She walked slower and slower until she wasn’t moving at all just standing there looking at me. The handles of the shopping bags cut into my bleach-cracked hands and suddenly, in a moment, in the blink of an eye, all the strength ran out of my legs. It was like falling down a waterfall. I was drowning right there on the street with my groceries.