“Hey,” I said, then louder, “HEY, CAN I GET SOME HELP IN HERE, PLEASE?” I pulled up my pants, crept over to the door, opened it a few inches, and peeked out. The baby was still on the paper towels. She twisted her tiny head back and forth like she was furious about being left on the floor. She made cranking noises, getting ready to cry, and then let it rip, releasing angry wails, red-faced and toothless.

One of the women, the one who was wearing a purple Minnesota Vikings sweatshirt, was standing right outside the bathroom. She must have been waiting for me.

“Um, can you get me, um, like an adult diaper or a maxi-pad or something?” I asked.

“Oh, sure thing,” she said, sounding surprised. “Everything all right in there?” She heard the crying. It sounded bad.

“Yep,” I said, wishing she’d mind her own business, and I caught her trying to peek into the bathroom.

“Hey, Roz, where the adult diapers at?” she asked.

Roz, the cashier, was in a conversation with the other woman, who wore a gray and white snowflake sweater. “Whaddya need, hon?” said Roz.

“Adult diapers or maxi-pads,” said the Vikings woman, who had started to browse the aisles.

“Next one over,” said Roz.

Digger honked the horn outside and that annoyed me. The baby sobbed, and I picked her up and bounced her, keeping the bathroom door open with my knee and foot.

The snowflake sweater came jogging over, out of breath and holding a box of pads. “Here you go,” she said.

“Where’d you get these?” I was panicking, paranoid she might have somehow gone out to the truck and rummaged through my duffel bag.

“Over there,” she said, pointing to the hygiene aisle.

“Oh, thanks.” I took the pads and closed the door. I set the baby down again and let her cry. I wished I hadn’t brought her in with me. It made everything difficult. After I cleaned myself up, I looked in the mirror. I took off my hat and puffed up my flat hair. My face was pale, so I pinched my cheeks. I looked like a cancer patient. I looked like a drug addict. What was I doing?

Digger honked again, and I picked up the baby. This time my groin ached when I lifted her. I paused and waited for the sting to fade. I wiped the baby’s wet face and bounced to get her to settle. I opened the bathroom door and slowly walked out. The two women were keeping the cashier company, like they were sisters and this was a fun night out on the town. I’d wanted a sister, but I was an only child. Digger was the youngest of four kids, and he always said be careful what you wish for.

“How old’s your baby?” asked one of them when she saw me.