Page 117 of The Infiniteness of Yesterday
“Why are there so many?” she gripes, taking in all the strollers set out for testing. There must be at least fifteen, probably more, different brands and styles.
“Different speeds?” I guess. “Or proportions?” I cock my head to the side.
She glances at the price tag on one and gasps. “Spencer, this one is almost fifteen-hundred dollars.”
“You’re kidding.” I peer down at the price tag and find that she’s not. “Well, it comes with multiple pieces. The stroller and car seat.”
“That’s still like seven-hundred and fifty dollars per piece.”
“Yeah.” I rub the back of my head. Taking a bite of pretzel, I say, “That is a bit steep.”
“This is crazy,” she mutters.
“Let’s look at the cribs,” I suggest, wanting to get her away from the strollers before she panic spirals.
“Cribs,” she repeats. “Yeah, okay.”
We head over to that section. “Seven hundred dollars,” she mutters. “This tiny human is going to drain my non-existent bank account.”
“That one is four-fifty,” I point out. “And that one there is … never mind.”
“Never mind? What is it?”
“Um…” I hedge, not sure I want to tell her.
She grabs my arm. “You have to tell me now.”
“It’s a thousand.” I squint. “Oh, wait. That includes a dresser.”
“Spencer.” She frowns at her half-eaten pretzel. “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “But we’ll figure it out.”
And we will. One way or another.
“Let’s look at the clothes instead,” I suggest. “Maybe we could pick something out for the baby?”
She frowns but nods. “Okay.”
The baby clothes are the next section over. Luckily, there’s a sales rack with some good options. We end up settling on a yellow duck onesie and a green frog zipper pajama set. Gender neutral and useful.
She seems happier once we checkout and head back to the food court to meet her mom.
We spot her seated at one of the tables with a soda and reading her book.
“Oh.” She smiles when our shadows loom over her. She eyes the bag in Harlow’s hand. “What’d you find?”
“Clothes for the baby,” she says softly, and pulls them out to show her mom.
Rubbing the fabric between her fingers her mom says, “These are adorable. What a great find.”
“Mom,” Harlow whispers. “The strollers and car seats and cribs are all so expensive. What am I going to do? I don’t have a job and?—”
Her mom grabs her hand. “Sweetie, please don’t stress yourself. We’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
“I’m going to help,” I blurt out. “I swear it. And my parents said they’d help out too.”
Harlow frowns. “I don’t want any of you guys to feel like you have to swoop in and save the day. This isn’t your problem.”
