Vanguard Security

by S. J. Bishop

  “Nothing…” the woman whispered, shaking her head with tears rolling down her face.

  Of course, I didn’t believe her for a moment.

  I had always been bad at picking up on body language, but tears were a rather obvious sign.

  Gently, I placed my hand on her shoulder and turned her so that she’d face me.

  She looked up, her eyes already red and her body shaking with her silent sobs.

  Awkwardly, I pulled her into a hug, trying my best to make it a comforting gesture. My hands ran up and down her back as I had seen people do in movies. She seemed to like it because her body grew limp against mine, so much so that if I hadn’t been supporting her, she would have crumbled to the ground.

  “There. There,” I said a bit lamely. What else was I supposed to do? I was used to dealing with computers, and they didn’t need emotional support.

  She sobbed for a little while, her tiny body feeling fragile pinned against mine. I feared that if I squeezed her just a little harder, she would snap like a twig.

  “There. There.” I started to caress her hair, finding that I enjoyed the feeling of the silky strands running through my fingers.

  Despite the circumstances, this was actually pretty nice.

  Eventually, she pulled away, roughly wiping away her tears as if they embarrassed her.

  “You should leave,” she said abruptly. “You shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have let you in.”

  I frowned. Had I done something wrong?

  “But… you need help.”

  “No. I don’t,” she insisted.

  “But your baby. Look, if you need a ride to the hospital, I have a car. I just can’t bear the thought of her crying all night long. She’s going to tucker herself out, poor thing.”

  The woman looked at me for a while, her lips pressing together into a thin line. I had a sense that even though she had invited me into her home, she still didn’t quite trust me.

  “What harm is it going to do if you tell me?” I added.

  This seemed to work because her shoulders sagged and her harsh demeanor melted away. “She’s hungry…” she whispered so softly that I barely heard her.

  “Oh, is that it?” I smiled. “That’s not so bad!”

  The woman frowned.

  I cocked my head in confusion. I didn’t get it. The baby was hungry. This seemed like an easy problem to fix. Feed the baby and everything would be okay. Right?

  Silence filled the room, making the air thick and hard to breathe.

  “Um…” I had no idea what to say at this point.

  “I don’t have any food…” She tugged on a loose thread on her shirt. “And no money…” The thread snapped under her forceful touch. “I can no longer breastfeed.” She started to pace. “And now my baby is starving to death.” Tears sprung anew, trailing down her cheeks and onto her wrinkled blouse. “All my life, I’ve wanted to be a mother. I’ve dreamed of it. Pictured myself starting a happy little family, but I’ve failed. My baby is going to die because of me.”

  Her sudden prattle of words took me by surprise. I blinked at her like I had just been stunned by a volley of rubber bullets.

  Slowly, I parsed her words, making sense of them.

  My eyes widened. “I’ll go buy some food!” I said quickly. I wasn’t about to let a baby starve to death when I had money in my pocket. I’d be the worst kind of monster.

  Before she could stop me, I was already out the door.

  “Wait! Come back!” she called out, but I ignored her, dashing down the stairwell.

  When I reached the 24/7 pharmacy on the corner, I realized, like an idiot, that I had no idea what babies ate. Standing in the infant aisle, I was presented with so many choices that I had no idea where to start.

  “Um…” I picked up a random can.

  Similac: Complete nutrition for your baby’s first year.

  That sounded promising. But how old was my neighbor’s baby?

  Again, I had no idea.

  I guess I would just need to buy one of each. It wasn’t like this stuff expired, right?

  With a basket full of baby products, I walked up to the register. The girl behind the counter looked at me like I had three heads.

  “Did you find everything you needed tonight…?” she asked her mandatory check-out question.

  “I hope so.” I chuckled nervously. Dear God, I hope so. That poor baby was starving, and I had taken it upon myself to get it some food. I couldn’t fail. “Um… just to be sure… this is baby food… right?”

  “Yes…?” The woman scrunched up her brows in confusion. “A lot of baby food.”

  “Oh? Is it?” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Okay… see there’s this baby, about this big…” I held out my hands and started to list every detail I knew about the child.

  The cashier listened, a blank stare on her face.

  In the end, I left the pharmacy with some Similac and a bottle of milk.

  Milk. Of course. How could I be so stupid?

  Everyone knows babies drink milk.

  4

  Stacey

  I stood in the doorway, completely shocked. In the blink of an eye, he was gone.

  Maybe this was all some sort of a vivid dream. Still, I lingered, waiting for him to return, but he never did.

  Eventually, I closed the door and picked Missy up, cradling her against my chest. As tired as I was, I started to rock her in my arms as I waltzed around the apartment, humming a soft tune. It was a lullaby. The same lullaby my mother used to sing to me when I woke up in the middle of the night, terrified from a nightmare. In my youth, her sweet voice had always lulled me into a state of calmness and serenity.

  I, however, could not do the same for my daughter. I was starting to think that I was a failure as a mother – that I should have never become one.

  “Shh…” I cooed at her, but she continued to wail. “Please…” I begged her. It broke my heart to see her so distressed. I would do anything – anything – to soothe her, but there was nothing I could do.

  I had sold everything. I had begged, practically on my knees, on the streets.

  No one wanted to help me.

  Except him.

  I shook my head. He was just a figment of my imagination. People weren’t really that nice. There had to be a catch.

  Exhausted, I leaned into the couch and closed my eyes. I wasn’t going to fall asleep, I told myself. Just rest my eyes for a bit. Then, I’d have the energy to tackle this problem – to be the mother Missy needed. The mother she deserved.

  Just then, the door swung open.

  I yelped, nearly dropping my baby.

  “I’m back!” the man announced. His booming voice came as such a surprise that even Missy stopped her incessant crying to look at him. He smiled brightly. “That’s right, I’ve brought you food, and now you won’t have to cry anymore once your tummy is full,” he whispered in a baby voice.

  “You really didn’t have to do this… I would’ve figured something out.”

  “Nonsense. It’s the least I could do for a neighbor.” He held out a bag from the pharmacy. “Why don’t you go make this? Because I’m clueless in that department. I can hold the baby if you want, although I’ve never really done that before, but how hard can it possibly be?”

  I hesitated. Of course, like any mother, I was hesitant to hand off my baby to some strange man, but what choice did I have?

  “Alright.” I nodded. “Can you bring everything into the kitchen?”

  “Certainly.” He followed me into the tiny room. “I hope I got everything. The woman at the counter was really helpful. She said this was all I needed. But if you need anything else, just let me know, and I’ll go get it.”

  Carefully, I placed Missy in his arms. Instantly, he stopped talking, a look of awe on his face. His eyes widened as he tilted his head.

  “She stopped.”

  “What?” I asked, too busy making the formula to think about anything else.

 
“She stopped crying,” he repeated.

  And he was right.

  For the first time, Missy had relaxed. Her hands had uncurled from their tiny fists and now clung to the fabric of his shirt, her face hidden against his chest.

  In a natural rhythm, he started to gently rock her.

  Didn’t this guy just say he had no clue about babies?

  Either he was lying to me or he was a natural…

  He smiled. “I think she likes me!”

  I didn’t say a word as I turned my back, popping Missy’s bottle into the microwave to warm the milk. It upset me that this man, a complete stranger, was a better ‘mother’ than I was.

  To keep from crying, I bit the inside of my lip.

  It wasn’t fair.

  But my anger didn’t last for very long. The fact that Missy now had something to eat for the next couple of days, thanks to this man’s kindness, made it difficult for me stay mad at him. The least I could do was give him a chance. He had been nice so far, so there was no reason for me to distrust him.

  Okay, after what I’d been through, there were plenty of reasons, but maybe this was an opportunity to start fresh.

  Ding!

  At the sound of the microwave, Missy started to cry once again.

  The man looked flustered, not quite sure what to do. “Shh, shh, don’t cry,” he whispered, fretting over the child in a way that made me chuckle.

  Yeah, he definitely had no idea what he was doing.

  “Here, hand her over,” I said, holding out my arm.

  Delicately, like someone handling a precious vase, he deposited Missy into my arms. He then hovered over us, a curious glint in his eye as he watched her latch onto the nipple, sucking greedily.

  “She really was hungry, huh?” he asked.

  I nodded. “I’ve been trying to give her bits of soggy bread to hold her over, but it’s not the same… You’ve been a real lifesaver tonight.”

  “I’m just glad I could help. Is she going to be okay now?”

  “She should be,” I said, gently running my fingers over her soft tuft of brown hair. Already, she was halfway-done with the bottle, her eyes growing heavy with tiredness.

  Soon, she was finished.

  I burped her with ease, and a few minutes later, she was fast asleep in her crib, not a worry in the world.

  5

  Ned

  So, what now?” I asked, standing there, feeling a bit awkward. “Should I just go…?”

  The woman considered me for a moment. “I appreciate what you did for my baby, but I think that would be for the best, yes.”

  “Oh, alright.” I ran my fingers through my hair, stepping back toward the door. “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask. I’m right over there.” I thrust my thumb in the direction of my apartment. “101.”

  She nodded.

  “Well, I’m going now.” I had my hand on the knob, but something held me back. “I don’t mean to pry… but… do you need someone to talk to? I can’t imagine what it’s like to raise a baby on your own. It must be a lot of work. Is there a… dad… in the picture?” I stumbled over my words, but they nonetheless came tumbling out of my mouth. As soon as the silence settled between us, I knew I had spoken out of turn. Why did I always do that? “Sorry… I shouldn’t have asked.” I opened the door and stepped halfway over the threshold.

  “Wait…”

  I froze in place.

  “I don’t have much to offer you, but would you like a cup of tea?”

  I smiled brightly. “I love tea!” Happily, I stepped back inside. Usually, I liked to keep to myself. I had always been content with being alone, but there was something about this woman that made me want to be in her company. I didn’t quite know what it was, but it was like there was an instinct inside of me, yearning to protect her. Strangely enough, I had the urge to wrap her in my arms and never let go.

  Odd.

  As she prepared the tea, I sat down on her couch, looking around the apartment. It was pretty modest, but much tidier than my own. A few items looked like they were missing. In fact, as I continued to study the place, it looked barren. There was barely anything of value left.

  Despite that, however, there were gorgeous paintings piled in a heap in the corner. Curiosity took hold. I walked up to them, admiring the skill of the painter. Most of them were landscapes, filled with a rainbow of color, showing a different perspective of our otherwise dull world. I picked up one of the smaller pieces, running my fingers along the paint.

  The woman reentered the living room. “What are you doing? Don’t touch those!” She looked at me in horror before running over and snatching the canvas out of my hands.

  “Oh… I’m sorry…”

  “They aren’t yours to touch.”

  “My apologies,” I mumbled. “But whose are they?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “They’re incredibly beautiful. I couldn’t help but feel drawn to them. Mind the pun.”

  She just shook her head.

  “It seems a shame that they’re just tucked away in a corner when they should be put on display, don’t you think?”

  “Stop it.” She hung her head in her hands. “Stop talking about it.”

  I furrowed my brow in confusion. I couldn’t understand why she was so upset.

  “They’re mine, okay?” she spat out, as if the words had been lodged in her throat and had suddenly come flying out.

  “Oh! You’re really talented,” I complimented, sitting beside her.

  She scoffed. “Talented? I’m a goddamn failure.”

  “Don’t say that… they’re really good. I like them.”

  “You’re just mocking me. No one likes my work. If they did, I’d be able to feed my baby. Instead, I’m just some poor artist who can afford neither formula nor paint. I don’t know what to do…” Suddenly, she broke down.

  It was like her body had crumbled. One second, she was fine, and the next, she had fallen into my arms, crying into my chest.

  At first, I had no idea what to do. I just sat there like a statue with muscles tense and unmoving, but then my instincts kicked in. Naturally, my arms wrapped around her, holding her close. I pulled her into my body, cradling her in a protective embrace.

  Without thinking, I leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Shh. It’s going to be okay. I think your artwork is fantastic, and if you let me, I’d love to buy the smaller piece. The lake in that one is breathtaking. Reminds me of a lake my dad used to take me to when I was a kid. I never swam in it, but it was nice to look at.” As I spoke, her crying ebbed.

  She looked up at me with big doe eyes, her bottom lip quivering.

  The sight broke my heart. All I wanted to do was hold her in my arms forever, to keep her safe. A beautiful woman like her should never have to cry or live like this. I wanted to do something for her – I wanted to help – but deep down, I knew there was a limit to what I could do or what her pride would allow me to do.

  Slowly, she pushed away from me, sitting there, her hands on her knees, looking at the floral carpet under her feet. “Do you really want to buy it? You aren’t just saying that because you feel bad for me?”

  “Of course not. I have a lot of artwork in my apartment. It’s one of my guilty pleasures. In fact, if you’re having a hard time selling your pieces, I know someone who might be able to help get you some recognition. He’s an art conserver down at the Saatchi Gallery. He knows a thing or two about paintings.”

  She bit her bottom lip, considering the offer.

  Please say yes, I thought.

  She just smiled. “Thank you, but I don’t think I can let you do that.” Getting up, she crossed the room and grabbed the painting I had been looking at. She offered it to me. “Here, I want you to have it. What you’ve done tonight will keep me in your debt for a long, long time. It’s the least I can do.”

  I returned her smile and took the painting. “Thank you. I’ll find it a good home on one of my walls.”r />
  “I hope so.”

  6

  Stacey

  I thought for sure he would leave as soon as I gave him what he wanted, but he just kept looking at me with this expectant look, his blue eyes like two pieces of polished glass.

  Why was he just staring at me like that?

  “So… is there a dad in the picture?” he repeated his earlier question, fidgeting from one foot to the other.

  Oh. So that’s what he wanted.

  “No, there’s not,” I answered, my tone curt. Hopefully, he would get the message that I didn’t want to talk about it.

  He stepped forward. “Oh?”

  This guy just didn’t get it, did he?

  I sighed.

  If it was anyone else, I probably would have thrown them out by now, but there was just something about this guy that was different. I didn’t know what it was, but he felt like someone I could trust. It didn’t make any sense. I didn’t even know his name…

  “He left me as soon as Missy was born.”

  “Missy?”

  “The baby.”

  “Oh right, right.” He nodded. “That’s a cute name. Speaking of names, I don’t think I ever got yours.”

  “Stacey.”

  “Stacey,” he repeated as if trying it out for size.

  “And you?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Oh! Right!” He chuckled. “Sorry, I’m not very good at being… err… social.”

  “I’ve picked up on that, yeah.” I found myself chuckling. In a way, his awkwardness was kind of cute.

  “Ned.”

  “You look like a Ned.”

  “Do I?” He looked down at his shirt. “Why do you say that?”

  I shrugged. “You just do.”

  “I see, well… thanks… I guess.” A moment of silence. We both looked away, unable to make eye contact. “And this boyfriend of yours… does he have a name?”