I am standing just close enough to Mommy, until she begins to speak to me. I don’t understand what she’s saying, but I know better than to ask her to say it again.
She puts two plastic bags on the floor. She opens them up the way you open up socks so your foot can fit in. They look like two circles. I watch.
Mommy begins putting things into the circles. Whatever she can reach with her arms. Her hair is over her eyes, and I don’t know if she can even see what she’s reaching for. I want to help her, but I don’t know why she’s doing this.
“You’re going to your dad’s.”
I look up to the wall behind Mommy’s head, to see if I can picture his face in my mind, but I can’t remember it. I’m not sure if I’m excited. Maybe Daddy has snacks.
“Get all your things. We’re leaving.”
I see Mommy has packed a bag, too. I run to my Mama Duck paper cut-outs on the windowsill. I gather Mama Duck and all her ducklings into my hand and carefully walk to the two plastic bag circles. Mommy slaps my hands, and I watch the yellow paper cut-outs fall to the floor.
“Not those. Stop it! Go get your clothes.”
I search the floor for my clothes. But all I can see are the yellow paper cut-outs of Mama Duck and her babies. What will they do without me?
Mommy slaps the back of my head, and my cheeks get hot.
“Get your fucking clothes.”
I find my underwear in the hamper where I put it to get clean. I find my leggings under the kitchen table where I played house, then fell asleep. I find two shirts in the tub, where I rinsed them. They are still kind of damp. Mommy says there’s no time to dry them.
I put the clothes into the plastic bag circles. Mommy rolls them back out and up so they hold things. She points to my jacket. I place it upside down on the floor like I always do, because it’s easier to put on. I put my arms into the arm holes and flip it over my head. One, two, flipperoo. Mommy helps me with the zipper.
“Hurry the hell up.”
She takes the plastic bags and ties one to each of my wrists. She makes fists of my hands around the handles. She kneels in front of me and wipes her hair from her face so that I can see her eyes. I haven’t seen her eyes in a long time.
“Do not let go of these, got it?” I nod. “We have to be like little mice, Laura. When we leave, we have to whisper until we’re outside. You understand?” I nod.
She gets her big bag and puts it on her shoulder. It looks heavy. Maybe Daddy is far away.
Mommy looks back into the apartment and turns off the lights. We open the door. Mommy puts her finger to her mouth to remind me to be quiet.
We step over all the coloured paper that has been left outside our door. Mommy lifts her feet up and down softly, like she’s creeping up behind someone.
I see her reach into her pocket, and she pulls out a silver key. She places it on a table inside the apartment, then closes the door silently.
Across the hall, Mrs Kamal opens her door. Mommy freezes. Mrs Kamal looks at me, then looks at Mommy. They stare at each other for a long time. Mr Kamal calls from inside. Mrs Kamal says something back to him, then reaches for a pair of boots she left to dry in the hallway. I want to tell her so badly that I am going to see my daddy. That he is going to have snacks. And to tell her thank you. But Mrs Kamal is looking down at the boots in her hand, pretending she can’t see us.
We take the back stairwell down to the rear door. It is almost night. The wind rushes through the leaves of the trees, and it sounds like they’re clapping at me. Like the wind is saying something. I want to stay and listen, but Mommy brings my hood up over my ears.
“Come on,” she says. “We’re going for a ride.”