Dead Woman Crossing by J.R. Adler (books on motivation .txt) 📗

again or the crying had never stopped. She glanced over at the clock, 3 a.m. The space beside her was empty, so she assumed Aaron was tending to Jessica and she opted to wait a few minutes. She didn’t want to make him feel as though he couldn’t handle it as Kimberley believed it would push him away. She watched the clock, waiting for the numbers to turn over, while her baby cried and cried on the other side of the door.

3:01 a.m.

She held her breath, trying to hear Aaron’s footsteps or whispers. She listened for running water, the fridge door opening, cabinets closing, any sign that he was prepping a bottle.

3:02 a.m.

Kimberley exhaled. Jessica’s crying hadn’t become any louder, but it felt louder to Kimberley.

3:03 a.m.

She sat up in bed slowly. The metal frame creaked.

3:04 a.m.

Her bare feet touched the worn hardwood floor.

3:05 a.m.

She stood up. Creak. Creak. Creak. As she walked to the door, Kimberley took a deep breath. She still hadn’t heard Aaron, but how could she when the only thing she could hear was her baby crying?

3:06 a.m.

Kimberley threw open the door, running to the crib right outside of it. When she looked inside, she gasped. The world around her went silent. Inside, there was nothing but a small stuffed elephant. Where was her baby? The dark room spun. Was she dreaming? Was this a dream? Would she wake up soon?

A crying scream from the other side of the room brought her world back. She flipped on the light switch beside her, squeezing her eyes closed for a moment. She blinked them open slowly, adjusting to the brightness. The apartment was small, one room contained both the kitchen and the living room and all that fit inside of both of them was a loveseat, a table for two, an end table and a TV stand. The recliner was given away to make room for the crib. She stumbled past the loveseat and there on the other side, lying on the hardwood floor was Jessica wrapped in a blanket, alone. Kimberley’s eyes filled with tears as she scooped her daughter up into her arms, holding her close. She walked to the crib, grabbing the stuffed elephant her mother had given Jessica the week before and tucked it between her and her baby. It seemed to almost immediately comfort her crying child. Kimberley collapsed onto the couch, apologizing profusely to the little girl that would never remember. But Kimberley would. That night had triggered something in Kimberley, and as she rocked her daughter back to sleep, she remembered thinking, people could change.

Kimberley shook her head slightly, brushing the memory away.

“Morning, Mom,” she said.

Kimberley walked over to her mother and Jessica. “Good morning, baby girl.” She pinched at her chubby cheeks. Jessica smiled and laughed. “Mama,” she said, reaching out her arms.

“Want me to take her?” Kimberley offered. Jessica was around twenty-two pounds, according to her last doctor visit, which was just before leaving the city, but she looked much larger in her mother’s arms.

“Oh no. I’ve got her. Have some coffee. I just brewed a fresh pot and there’s cinnamon rolls on the counter,” Nicole said, bouncing Jessica up and down, while she paced around the kitchen.

The kitchen was small, with a bar top counter and some stools that were never used, based on their accumulation of dust. A tacky rooster backsplash lined the back of the counters jutting up toward white cupboards that mirrored the façade of the rest of the house. The appliances looked old and outdated, as if they had been installed back when the shag carpeting in Kimberley’s bedroom had been in style. From the appearance of the cottage, it really hadn’t been made a home yet as it lacked any sort of personal touch that she knew her mother to have, like florals. Their home growing up had floral drapes, floral pillows, a floral backsplash. If it had petals, her mother would purchase it. Kimberley always believed her choice of décor was her mother’s way of brightening up a dark home with a dark secret.

Kimberley grabbed herself a mug and poured a cup of coffee, which smelled like Folgers, America’s cheapest well-known coffee. Her mom had never been a picky coffee drinker. If it was brown and hot, to her it was coffee and she’d drink it. She walked over to the counter and took a seat at one of the stools, quickly wiping away the dust with her hand while her mother’s back was turned. She grabbed a gooey cinnamon roll, her mother’s specialty once she was rested in place. Kimberley noticed only one other roll was missing from the pan, so she assumed David had eaten it and her mother had only consumed the brown water she called coffee. Taking a bite out of it was like having a vivid flashback of her own childhood. Her mother up at the crack of dawn, while the home was still peaceful. Her dad still sober or at the very least getting there while he was passed out on the couch with his tongue hanging out. As a child, her mother could pretend her marriage was good and she was happy in the mornings, smothering cinnamon rolls with creamy frosting. Making coffee. Cleaning. Tidying up. Doing everything she could to create a façade for her daughter that their life was perfectly normal and that the father that chose his vices over his own family wasn’t a threat, even though Kimberley knew he was, like a sleeping dragon living within their own home.

“How’d you sleep?” Nicole asked, pulling Kimberley from her vivid flashback.

Jessica wiggled and giggled while her grandma bounced her around the kitchen. She reached out her hands when Nicole walked past the pan of cinnamon rolls like she was drawn to them. Her little hands grasping in the air.

“Oh, you want Grandma’s famous cinnamon rolls?” Nicole said cheerily to her granddaughter. She grabbed a chunk and as soon as it was in Jessica’s