She crushed that sickening certainty back down and walked faster, faster along the sidewalk. She didn’t want to go back to that filthy house, to the mountain of things that always, always needed doing. Better to be out, to be wandering the world.
She turned down Hawthorne Street and from there onto South Main. The double row of neat little shops cheered her soul. Even if she couldn’t afford to buy anything, she could look into the charmingly arranged windows and feast her soul on beauty, on the lines and colors and finishes of things that, if not needful, were at least delightful.
Her eyes skimmed along the street—and stopped on a storefront she didn’t recognize. A sliver of a shop, no more than a turquoise door and a narrow window, and over the door a sign: “Soleil’s Secondhand.”
The shop Chloe had suggested.
Mya’s entire body lit up with purpose. She threw her weight behind the stroller again and propelled it across the street, straight to that turquoise door.
Then she paused, defeat weighing her shoulders. The stroller would never fit through the shop’s entrance. She’d have to leave it outside and take the children in. She’d have to tote the heavy baby on her hip while the toddler, Delie, grabbed fistfuls of anything she could get her little hands on.
It would be impossible to shop for clothes for the boys.
Tears stung the back of her eyes. Why,whywas she tearing up over not being able to enter a store, for gosh sake?
I’m a mess. I’m not good at any of this. I shouldn’t, I can’t—
The shop door swung open with a twinkle of chimes, and a pretty girl popped out—a girl with wavy brown hair, full lips, and blue eyes that sparkled despite the shadows beneath them. And she was wearing such a cute outfit. Mya was suddenly hyper-aware of every drop of leaked breastmilk and every smear of jelly on her own loose T-shirt.
“Come in, please!” The girl waved her inside. “I’ve got a basket of toys for the littles—they can play while you shop.”
“I—I’m not sure,” Mya began—and then shewassure. Sure that entering this shop was the one and only thing she wanted—no,needed—to do today.
She unbuckled both children, and the shop girl took Delie’s hand and led her inside, to a cozy corner with toys laid out on a thick, soft carpet.
Before Mya realized it, she was handing over the baby as well. He didn’t scream, as he usually did when anyone but his mama held him. Instead, he snuggled into the girl’s arms and put his thumb in his mouth.
Mya stared at her empty hands—free hands—and then she plunged into the racks of clothes, browsing the shelves, sifting through baskets of odds and ends. The shop was surprisingly deep, well-stocked but not packed so full that it felt stifling.
The girl followed her, bouncing the baby lightly.
“You’re good with him,” Mya said, flipping through a rack of boys’ clothing. “You have little brothers and sisters?”
“Oh, no,” said the girl. “I’m an only child. But I used to babysit a lot in high school. I have a way with kids, I guess.”
She smiled, like someone sharing a secret, and Mya smiled back, tentative. She peered at the girl more closely—at the hand cupped around the baby’s chubby leg. This girl wore odd-looking rings on every finger. Some of them were etched with strange symbols, others set with tiny semi-precious stones. One looked like a tiny bird skull coated in silver, with jewels for eyes. Another was a gold snake swallowing its own tail. Its single eye shone vivid blue.
Mya frowned. Who wore that many crazy rings? “You are—So-leel?”
“So-lay,” the girl corrected. “It’s French for ‘sun.’ And yes, this is my store. I’m only open four mornings a week right now. I do a lot of business through my online shop as well, so I have to leave time for prepping those orders.”
“You could—hire some extra help.” Mya inspected the knees on a pair of boys’ jeans.
“Maybe eventually. Now tell me about yourself! You live nearby?”
Tell me about yourself.
The words pressed a sore spot in Mya’s heart. Since when did anyone want to know abouther? It was the children, the babies, that people noticed. The boys attracted attention because of their volume and energy, drawing head-shakes and raised eyebrows while Mya tightened her lips and vacillated between trying to control her sons and raging internally at anyone who dared criticize them for acting like normal humankids. The little ones, Delie and Dylani, usually elicited smiles and enraptured coos of “Oh, they’re so cute”, during which the commenter ignored Mya.
Tell me about yourself.
Did the shop girl—Soleil—did she really mean it?
Soleil tilted her head, smiling, her blue eyes warm as sunshine—comfortable, and safe.
Mya began to speak—a trickle of words at first, then a stream, and then a flood as the dam of her control crumbled and all her anxieties came pouring out. She talked about Jefferson’s extravagant purchases, things he thought his family deserved that only sank them deeper into debt. About the darkness of the endless days, and the weariness that weighed her limbs until she couldn’t make herself do anything, couldn’t accomplish the thousand menial tasks that cried for her attention every day.
The shop girl listened while Mya stormed, and shattered, and sobbed. She listened while the baby dozed in her arms, and while Delie slumped over on the soft rugs and slept. Strange, because Delie never took a morning nap anymore.