Unlocked Read Free

—the unfettered laugh of a woman whose child was healthy and vibrant and whole.
    The sound of their joy splashed a sunbeam across Tracy’s afternoon. She waited until the woman turned happy eyes in her direction. “Your son … he’s darling.”
    “Thanks.” She blew at a wisp of her bangs. “He never stops talking.”
    Holden used to be like that,
Tracy thought. She stuffed the memory into its heart’s hiding place and found her smile. “Did you find everything you needed?”
    “Yes.” She grinned. “All except the extra three hours I need each day, but that’s okay.” She lifted the last items from her cart onto the belt. “Walmart’s good … but that’s a lot to ask of any store.”
    As she entered her credit card information, the woman chatted about finding the right cabinet knobs for the cupboards they were building in their garage, and the perfect set of sheets for their guest bedroom. All the while, her son ran a sort of color commentary. “Sheets, mommy!” The boy looked right at his mother, straight into her eyes. Clear, sharp eyes the way Holden’s used to look. The child pointed at the bedding. “Pretty sheets for Grandma!”
    “Yes, baby.” She grinned and the two locked eyes. Tracy tried not to stare. The boy was exactly like Holden used to be.
    “Cocoa Pebbles!” He raised the football over his head and giggled as two boxes of cereal slid past him toward the register. He was bright and alert, aware of every nuance his mother made, taking stock of each item she lifted from the cart. He tucked the football close against his middle. “Football after lunch, Mommy! I can jump so high … higher than you!”
    “Really?” Again she laughed. “That’ll be something to see!” She snagged the ball from him, then playfully tossed it in the air, caught it, and handed it back to him. “I don’t know, baby. Your mom’s a pretty good jumper.”
    “I’m a good jumper too!” Again he held both arms straight up, clinging to the ball with one hand. “Touchdown, Falcons! See that, Mommy? That’s a touchdown.”
    “Why don’t you sing your touchdown song?” She finishedthe transaction, and the receipt began to print. “You love that one, remember?”
    “Yay! The touchdown song!” The child swung his arms in a sort of sitting-down dance move. “Touchdown, touchdown, All the peopo’ in the town, come to watch the Falcons play, and shout, ‘We wanna touchdown!’” He celebrated the song for a few seconds before starting again.
    As he sang, he made eye contact with his mom and held it. Eye contact. That was the hardest part about watching the customer and her son. Eye contact that shut out the world and allowed a momentary connection for just the two of them. Something Tracy missed most about Holden. The way it felt to see into his soul and know that at the very same time he was seeing into hers. Tracy let her eyes linger. Watching them was like watching home movies, the way she and Holden had played together a lifetime ago. Whatever had happened to Holden, no matter what exactly triggered the change, there had been a time when they played. When Holden laughed and sang and looked her in the eyes every time they were together.
    As the woman collected her receipt, Tracy tried to stay in the moment. Young moms with little boys were always the toughest. The woman set two of her bags into her cart. “Glad there wasn’t a line. My housekeeper needs to be paid.” She flashed an exasperated smile. “I can’t clean to save my life.”
    Housekeepers and home improvement projects … a talkative child and a happy home. Tracy couldn’t relate, but she smiled anyway. “Have a good day.”
    “Thanks.” The woman grabbed the last of the bags and set them in her cart.
    “Down, Mommy!” Her little boy waved the football at her. “Please, down!”
    “Okay.” She swept her son into her arms and kissed his cheek. He returned the kiss and squirmed free. The woman set himdown beside her, took