Their footsteps squish over the earth, their trilling voices wrangling unwilling kids and tossing used-up snack baggies and juice boxes into trash cans. My head jerks behind me toward the stroller, something primal kicking in. When I fainted, I could have sworn I heard the tinkling of Jackson’s anklet: bells.

“He’s fine,” Jess insists. “Are you?”

Am I fine? What a loaded question. I almost laugh. Instead, I nod. “Let me just sit for a second.”

“Take your time.” Jess’s hand connects with my back and rubs repetitive, soothing circles.

“Ms. Rebecca!” A voice calls behind me and I turn my head too sharply. My world tilts again.

“Ms. Rebecca!” Savi is breathless and smells like bubble gum. “I just saw you fall! Are you okay?”

I nod. “Where’s your mom?”

“Right here.” Crystal rushes over. “We were just walking to the music store. Are you okay?”

I nod. “I think so.”

“Bec, you need to lie down. Or go to the doctor. She fell pretty hard,” Jess says to Crystal.

“Can she come rest at our house for a second, Mom? Please?” Savi hops up and down, and all the commotion makes my head pound.

“That’s okay, Savi. I can walk home.” To prove my point, I stand, but my legs buckle. My heart beats in a strange, labored way.

“Come.” Crystal drapes a firm arm around me and guides me toward her house. Jess grabs my diaper bag, cane, and stroller. Jess chats with Savi in an attempt to lighten the mood and warp the truth: I need help.

As we navigate the short path through a thicket of trees to Savi’s house, worry spreads through my chest—a physical ache that darts straight to my back.

“This is the backyard,” Savi explains. Metal groans as she runs ahead to open the latch. “It gets stuck sometimes. And there’s a pool to your left.”

I attempt to orient myself and struggle for breath.

Crystal’s hand clasps my waist, this time tighter. “Bec?”

Jackson.

She says my name, but it’s my son I’m thinking of. The son I’ve been having nightmares about: how he’s missing or crying, but I can’t find him. The son I work so hard to prove I can take care of, even though I’m a fucking blind widow with zero help. The son who has no living grandparents left. The son I pull along now, like an afterthought.

“I’m fine. I just need to sit.”

“Here.” Crystal hurries ahead to open another door. “We’re coming in through the back, but let’s go to the living room.”

Savi grabs my hand, which is sticky and warm. “Careful.”

I turn to grab Jackson’s stroller, but Jess shoos me away. “I’ve got it. Just go rest.”