Free Second House from the Corner by Sadeqa Johnson Page A

on the conveyor belt, half in my cart. Liv starts a fuss.
    â€œRory, go back to the apples and see if you dropped the belt. I’ll meet you there.”
    His small eyes widen.
    â€œAre you afraid?”
    â€œCan Twyla come with me?”
    Twyla grabs his hand and leads the way. That’s one of the things I like about Two. She ain’t never scared.
    The cashier gives me the total and I run my Amex card with my eyes in the direction that the children just ran in.
    â€œGosh, I ran out of paper. It’ll be just a minute.” She smiles. I don’t smile back.
    Hurry the fuck up.
    My eyes swing around the store. She puts the paper in and taps a few buttons but nothing happens. She takes it back out.
    â€œI’m sorry, I put it in backward.”
    The apples aren’t far, they should be on their way back by now. Oh, for the love of Christ, come on, lady.
    â€œYou know, I’m okay with no receipt.”
    â€œI’ve got it now.” She presses a button and the receipt skirts out. “Sorry for the wait.”
    I stuff the paper in my pocket and then swivel the cart back toward the apples. Liv’s fuss is now a cry.
    â€œAll is well. The Universe supports me at every turn,” I murmur. As I pass the canned goods aisle, I see a yellow karate belt lying on the floor. My affirmation worked. He must have dropped it when we were getting the pumpkin. I pick it up and rush to the apples.
    The kids aren’t there.
    My hand rubs my mouth as my armpits sweat.
    â€œRory, Twyla,” I call. Shoppers bustle around the store. I move back toward the gourmet cheese. No kids. Where could they be? Okay, stop it, Felicia, the store isn’t that big. This is what I tell myself as I picture a hairy white guy carrying my kids out the back door. I move towards the chicken, calling their names. This isn’t Walmart, where the folks act a fool, so I’m still trying to be subtle.
    â€œRory, Twyla.”
    They are not by the chicken.
    How long has it been, five, ten, twenty minutes? Liv is now full-out crying. I want to howl. She wants her milk now. Preston is going to kill me. Where are my children?
    You are failing at this just like your mother.
    Shut up! I want to scream at the damn voice . Liv’s fingers cling to my shirt, the bounce no longer working. I never have a pacifier when I need it. I rub her back with my free hand and push the cart with the other, swinging my eyes from aisle to aisle.
    The prepared food, I rush over to the stations.
    â€œRory.”
    â€œMama,” he turns the corner. Twyla is in tears.
    â€œWe thought you left us.” She hurls herself at my leg. My feet are aching.
    â€œWhy would I leave you, huh?” I’m down on my knees kissing her tear-stained cheeks as my pulse makes an attempt to slow, but it’s fruitless. I squeeze both kids in a hug. Then I look them both over, confirming that they have two ears, two eyes, and a nose. “Let’s go.”
    â€œBut my belt. Mommy, I can’t go to karate without it or Sensei will give me fifty push-ups.” His voice raises another teary octave.
    â€œHoney, calm down. I have your belt.” I thrust it in his direction and hurry the children to the car.
    *   *   *
    I now have ten minutes to get him to karate on a fifteen-minute drive, and Liv wants her milk. I am wearing my good push-up bra instead of my easy access nursing one, so I have to unfasten the clasp in the back to get the boob out and in her mouth. Liv relaxes into her milk.
    â€œThat’s mine!” Rory shouts from the backseat. “Twyla, stop it. Mommmmeeeee. Twyla won’t give me back my car.”
    â€œTwyla, please give it to him. Guys, I need silence.”
    â€œMommmmeeee! She’s laughing at me.”
    â€œStop it, now!” I screech.
    The car is silent except for the sound of Liv sucking and gurgling. I try to relax but I can feel the pressure of getting Rory to karate