You Make It Easy

Even Numbers Are Better.

"Does it matter what room?"

"One of the exam rooms."

"Okay. I have a pediatrician coming down."

"Thank you."

"Shh, it's okay," I say quietly to this baby girl as I sit in my desk chair.

Social services are taking forever to take her into their custody. I'm stuck here until they get here. "I can't believe you have to stay," Bridget says.

"It's okay. I can get some work done."

I fixed her hat as I adjusted how I held her. "I can stay."

"It's okay. I'm going to call Christian."

"What, and show him the baby?"

"No, that's illegal."

She shrugs, "I wouldn't tell anybody."

"There are cameras everywhere."

She laughs, "Well, do you need anything?"

"Can you call him on my phone? I can't reach it and she's comfortable."

She walks around the station, takes my phone, and holds it up to my face to let her in. "You almost had one of these."

I sigh, "I know. She's so cute. I just want to take her home."

"Well, that's very illegal."

"I would do it legally."

"And how would Christian feel about that?"

"Well, we'd have the room in the new house. We have three rooms set for our unborn children."

"Oh, only three? We're thinking four."

"I guess it's never been talked about. But we figured one guest room and the way math works out, we have three extra rooms."

"Even numbers are better. That way nobody is ever left out."

"I think we'll be okay."

She shrugs, "Just giving you my opinion."

She makes sure he answers before leaving me for the day, "Why are you still at work?"

"Social services haven't come by yet to take her into custody so I have to stay with her."

I stand up, moving the other desk chair to me so I can put my feet up. "You look tired."

I nod, "Not that excited to be here longer than I need to be."

"That's incredibly valid."

She spits her pacifier out. I hold my finger inside the nipple of the pacifier as she suckles. She's so freaking cute. I can't help but smile at her.

Looking up at my phone, I see him staring, "What?" I ask.

"Nothing."

"Excuse me," I hear.

I look up to see a teenage girl standing on the other side of the counter. I turn my phone's volume down, "Yeah, can I get you something?"

I follow her eyes to the baby. I stand up, taking my phone with me, "I think that's my baby. I want her back."

I shake my head, "I think you're mistaken."

"No, I left a baby at a fire station on Wells Street in Milwaukee this afternoon. I left her with a note. I made a mistake. I should've never given her up."

I keep stepping backward, "I'm sorry but I cannot hand her over to you. Social services are now involved. You will have to go through them."

"Hand her over."