Still buzzing from the confrontation with Eve and the things that oozed out of her, Hazel inhaled and try to take it all in. All the people and things and energy.
She observed all these people at the market in the morning. Saying “good morning” as they passed each other in their rows. Sifting through the basket of apples until they found the perfect one. Trying on earrings and bracelets and scarves. Showing them off to their partner with a tilt of their head and a smile. Exchanging dollars and vegetables and handshakes and hugs. She thought of where she usually was while all those things were happening: tucked away in a creaky old house with Eve and Silas. Hidden away at the end of a long dusty road amid towering, draping trees.
She felt energized to be a part of it all here at the market. She took a step into the moving crowd and began walking through the rows in a swiftly moving mass of people. Inertia kept her going and going through the market. Passing tent after tent. Table after table brimming with foods and colors and things.
Hazel felt present. Alive and independent and back in her body. There was a surprising lightness, a surprising sense of relief, without Eve or Silas. She hadn’t realized how heavy and viscous the air was in Silas’s house until this moment. How much it must have been pressing down on her. The air felt thinner here. Easier to breathe.
From the corner of her eye, Hazel spotted a two-seated stroller nestled in the corner of one of the tents. There was one precious light-haired little boy in each seat. They were both dressed in the same blue shorts and hunter green T-shirts, both speckled with crumbs and drool. Their thin blond hair both falling to the side in the same way. Their cheeks similarly pink and smooth. Their big eyes in the same position on their little heads. The corners of their little lips turned up in the same curvature.
Two little twins right in front of her. Little Griffin and little Trevor right in front of her.
Hazel felt her center soften and then a magnetic pull toward the little boys. Without directing them herself, Hazel’s legs began to move beneath her.
She crouched down in front of the stroller inches from the boys’ faces. They both began kicking their legs out and cooing in excitement. Those sounds softened her center even more. She felt a warmth around her heart.
Still crouched, Hazel looked straight into the eyes of the one on the left. Big and blue and glistening with a blank and gentle ease. Like Griffin. Like Trevor. The baby looked back at her. Straight in her eye. She saw the innocent ease in his existence. A calm optimism. A sweet and simple happiness.
She thought of the times at home lying on her bed, Griffin and Trevor curled up in front of her by her belly. Giggling and reaching their small hands out. The feeling of their soft palms on her lips. The gentle scratch of their little nails along her nose. Their little whimpers and outstretched arms when they wanted their pacifiers. The gentle suction on her fingertips when she placed the pacifiers into their mouths.
Hazel noticed a pacifier in the lap of one of the boys in front of her. And then she felt a tingle of longing in her fingertips. Hazel picked up the pacifier and placed it in the boy’s mouth. There was light tug on her fingers and he began sucking. It gave Hazel a warm chill, and then the longing in her fingertips moved to her arms and chest and heart. It moved into a longing for Griffin’s and Trevor’s bodies against her body. A baby’s body against her body again.
As automatically as her legs had started moving toward the stroller, her fingers started moving to the seat belt of the stroller. She unfastened the buckle and slid her hands behind the little boy’s back. His back was soft and warm.
Hazel stood up from her crouched position, lifted the boy and pressed his belly into her face. The smell was a little flowery with the faint acidity of old milk. She inhaled it deeply. She closed her eyes and thought of the boys. Of home. She ached for it.
And then she felt a hand on her shoulder, accompanied by a frantic shriek. “My baby!”
Hazel shook her head and relinquished the child as if her hands had been on a hot stove.
A sharp pain seared through Hazel’s head, and she closed her eyes to cope.
“What are you doing with my baby?” the woman yelled, her voice now shakier.
“I... I... I don’t know,” Hazel stuttered and took two wobbling steps backward.
“I... I...” Hazel stuttered some more, still backing away.
The woman had now picked the boy back up into her arms and pressed him against her chest. Tears were wobbling in her eyes now.
“They remind me of my brothers,” Hazel explained, her voice assured and earnest now. “How I miss them.”
She could see that the woman had tightened her arms around her child more thoroughly.
“I’m sorry,” Hazel said in the same earnest tone, tears now welling up in her own eyes, her feet still backing her away from the scene. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
The woman closed her eyes and kissed the top of the boy’s head.
Hazel turned away and lost herself in the rush of the crowd again, eager to get completely out of sight. He chest was rising and falling, her heartbeat quick and anxious. All of these things she didn’t know she felt were oozing out of her. She didn’t know what was happening inside her. What had caused her to pick that baby up. To frighten that mother like that. To shout at Eve and run from her.
Hazel’s chest rose and fell some more. And her heart skipped and skipped.
And then she caught a glimpse of the back of Silas’s head, his loose black curls swaying above his strong shoulders.
“Silas,” Hazel tried to yell, but it came out in a whisper.
The back of his flannel shirt billowed slightly behind him as his legs paced forward. They were picking up speed.
“Silas,” she said again, this time louder, but he still didn’t hear her. Hazel widened her stride and increased her pace, trying to at least maintain the guise of a walk. Her arms were swinging at her sides like a pendulum, thrusting her forward.
“Silas,” Hazel yelled again, this time certain her shout was in earshot.
She rocked onto her toes and started a light jog after him. As she rounded the side of his body and observed the profile of his face, Hazel could tell his attention was locked on a woman just a few feet ahead of him. She had deeply tanned skin and was wearing a flowing dress held up by two slim straps around her shoulders. Her arms were long and casual at her side, and the crisp white of the dress contrasted sharply with her skin. Her long honey-colored hair hung down her back and swayed and flecked with sunshine as she walked.
Silas was now within inches of the woman and reached out to touch her shoulder. Hazel stopped in her tracks so as not to disturb the moment.
“Torrey,” he said hopefully as the woman flinched and then whipped around in the direction of Silas’s hand. Her eyebrows were pressed up like two exclamation marks and her jaw and shoulders were tense.