Free Baby Talk by Mike Wells Page B

sir.”
    “Good man,” Snell said, smiling. It appeared
to Neal that he believed the story.
    “Doctor give you any pain killers?”
    This caught Neal by surprise.
    The old man’s pale blue eyes remained fixed
on Neal’s face, waiting for an answer.
    “No,” Neal said.
    “Well, I have to tell you, bein’ an
ex-athlete and all, that really surprises me. They almost always
give pain killers for sprains, especially one that’s swole up like
that.”
    “Well, they didn’t give me any.”
    “Uh-huh.” Snell brought one thick finger to
his lips, looking Neal up and down. “Would you mind emptying your
pockets on the table?”
    Neal was so stunned he could not speak for a
few seconds. “You bet I’d mind.” He let out a nervous laugh. “What
is this, a concentration camp?”
    Snell chuckled. “Wish it was sometimes,
son.” The smile vanished. “You gonna empty your pockets or
not?”
    The pain killers were in Neal’s right-hand
pocket. Now, the little prescription bottle felt the size of a
pickle-barrel. He wondered if Snell could see it bulging through
his jeans.
    Neal said, “You don’t have the right to
search me.”
    “No. But I have the right to fire your smart
ass.”
    “Go ahead,” Neal said indignantly. He
struggled his way out of the chair and onto his feet.
    “Now, don’t get all worked up over this,”
Snell said.
    Neal had already taken a step towards the
door, his hand on the doorjamb for support. He paused and looked
back at Snell.
    “Don’t pay me no mind,” the old man said,
with another chuckle. “I get a little carried away sometimes. Just
go on home and take care of that leg. Get some rest, and if you
feel up to it, come on back to work in the morning.”
    Neal nodded, but he had no intention of
working another second for Snell. He was sure the only reason the
old man had backed off was because he didn’t have a replacement
delivery boy lined up. But that wouldn’t take long—there were
plenty of people in Atlanta desperate enough to put up with Snell’s
bullshit.
    Neal walked out the door, managing to take
the first few steps without limping.
    And he didn’t look back.
     
    * * *
    Annie had everything packed up and loaded
into her car by a quarter to five. It had taken her a lot longer
than she had anticipated—she kept thinking of “one more thing”
Natasha might need, and she ended up taking almost all the baby
provisions that were in the apartment. The only item that was in
short supply was disposable diapers. There was just one left, but
she had just changed Natasha, so she could make it to Chattanooga
and then buy some more there. She didn’t want to spend any more
time in Atlanta than necessary.
    When she was finally satisfied she had
everything she needed, she went back inside the apartment to get
Natasha and to leave Neal a note. The baby was already strapped
into her car seat, ready and waiting on the couch, wearing the
orange jumper that Annie’s mother had made for her. Annie had put
it on Natasha that morning, knowing that she would be going home.
It was too bad her mother wasn’t going to be there and see Natasha
in it—it
was
awfully cute on her. Her mother had embroidered
Natasha’s name across the front.
    Annie searched around the kitchen for
something to write on. She finally decided to use a napkin. Just
after she scribbled Neal’s name across the top, she heard the sound
of footsteps coming down the hallway.
    “Oh, God,” she whispered, the pen poised
above the paper. She watched the door as the footsteps came closer.
“Please don’t be Neal.
Please
don’t be Neal.”
    The footsteps stopped in front of the door.
Annie waited breathlessly for the jingling sound of Neal’s
keys.
    Instead, there was a loud knock.
    Annie opened her mouth. For a second,
nothing came out. “Who is it?”
    “Building maintenance. Here to take care of
the rodent problem.”
    “Oh,” Annie said, relieved. She almost
laughed. Now that she was leaving, the manager