Maternal

My car rattles as I slowly glide down the street. I consider, not for the first time, getting a new one. Such an old, loud car as this one is highly inconvenient for the task at hand. It draws eyes to me, so I have to wait till there’s no eyes around. Then in action it causes the need to use more aggression than I’d like. I don’t like being aggressive with them. It’s a bad start to our relationship. But I have to get it done before the eyes come back to me. 

I’m running out of time now, I’m not going to waste it on pointless trails of consciousness. At the moment, my surroundings need to be my focal point. The faint yellow glow of a school zone light covers my face, my brake lights shading the car in my rear view mirror a weak red. The front of my car lifts and crosses the speed bump, then the back. My brake light turns off. The bus is pulling out of the gate now. I tail it. 

Rear view mirror, car. Left mirror, car. Right mirror, car. Not yet. 

The bus takes me down a desolate street and stops at a small shaded structure. A flashing “slow” sign swings out the left of it. The doors fold open on the right. Three kids file out. I scan quickly. 

Girl, no. Boy, yes, brown hair, correct, wide eyes, big nose, no. Boy, yes, brown hair, correct, thin eyes, small nose, perfect.

The flashing light swings back into place and the doors fold closed. The two identified No’s leave the stop. My new James sits politely on the bench under the shade. A glimmer of light reflecting off the metal of the structure makes his eyes glimmer. So innocent. I love him already.

Rear view mirror, empty. Left mirror, empty. Right mirror, empty. 

Here’s the chance. The bus fades off in the distance as I park at the stop. I leave the car on and step out of my seat. Walking around the front, my hand sliding across the hood, I step onto the sidewalk. My buckled flattop shoes click lightly. My dress blows in a soft breeze. I open the back right door of the car. Flipping my head and hair around to look at him, I ask, “ready to go home James?” He looks at me with a frozen stare that could only be described as love. His lip quivers like he’ll cry to see me. As I approach, all he can do is shake in excitement. My boy’s coming home. Aren’t we both so happy?

It took a bit of work to get him in the car. We’re driving home now. Poor James is crying. I hope I didn’t hit him too hard. The crying is a good sign though, they always start out crying. Even from my very first time having a James. He was the prettiest. The most recent James’ have had their issues but I’ve dealt with them appropriately. How long will I have to look for the right one? I have high hopes here. 

“Did you miss mommy, James?” He cries and kicks my chair. They all do that too. Kick. James One, that’s what I’ll call him, he kicked before I ever even saw his face. How I miss him. “Don’t cry, James. Mommy loves you.”

“My name’s not James!! It’s Spencer!!” So silly they are. Thinking they aren’t James. Always trying to tell me they’re Spencer, or Keith, or Sam, whatever they think they are. They are James. Always will be! Anyway, he doesn’t seem to be in the mood for talking. That’s okay, we’re almost home and then I can show the sweet boy his room. I observe him in the rear view mirror as we drive. His face is red with tears, but other than that, he’s perfect. The slight curls of his hair, spinning like the funnest slide at the park. Once it grows out more the hair will be exact. The scattered freckles splashed on like sprinkles upon his cheeks. His ears are the perfect shape, all he needs is a little piercing. This might just be it. It really might be. We’re home now. I couldn’t be more excited to show him around!  

“Here’s the entrance baby, do you like being called baby? Well I’m sure you do, because James does! You know you’re James right?” He’s stopped crying and I feel him nod his head under the pressure of my hand grasping the back of his neck. They like to try and run. I want this James to stay, so I'm taking precautions. He just feels so right. His smooth skin under my hand. This has to be the one. He doesn’t acknowledge the entrance. With my right foot I kick the back of his left heel, making him keep walking. I steer him to the kitchen. My hou - hah, sorry. Our house, it’s been awhile since I’ve had another James. Our house, it’s picture perfect of course, that’s what I was going to say. The house of a happy family. That’s what we are. The cabinets, stoves, and microwaves are a deep black that contrast the beautiful white marble counters. A row of kitchen utensils like spatulas and tongs hang on a neat rack above the oven. The island in the middle of the room has two stools on the outer side. One with a nice seat belt and wrist clasps on the counter in front of it. Several bolts holding it tightly to the ground. Just the way James likes it. I hoist him up firmly by the waist. His adorable baby fat pinches between my fingers. Pretty, glistening tears fall from his eyes. He looks even more perfect now that some of the red is fading from his face. I shove him into the chair, and before he can start squirming, force the belt tightly around his waist. It presses sharply into his tummy. After also clasping the leather arm restraints around him, I place a loving kiss on his soft head. Just to soothe the pain for my pretty baby. 

“This is the beautiful place I’ll make your meals James, isn’t it nice?” He hasn’t warmed up to talking quite yet. I see his precious wrists twitch as he tries to get out of my cuffs. Oh no no no, James. You’re safe here. “Well, you little wiggly caterpillar, what would you like to eat?”

…

“Oh James, you can’t go hungry now, tell momma what you want. Don’t be scared.” More of those loving tears roll down his plump cheeks. Oh, just how much does the little guy admire me? Surely no more than I admire him. How lovely. My heart skips a few beats as his darling beady eyes glare into mine. This is just perfect. Seems he’s even too happy to be hungry. Oh well! It has indeed been a long day. We must both be quite sleepy. I undo his restraints and, with my arm cradling his bottom, carry him to his room. I have to really pull at the door to get it open. There’s no gap between it and the floor, a curved scrape in the hard wood shows how it opens. It just helps keep the smell inside the bedroom. Oh yes, the smell. It hits us like a wall as the door finally props ajar. I feel little James’ stomach clench in a held back regurgitation, he’ll get used to it. Putting his feet back upon the ground I push him gently inside. He looks around his room. 

There’s a set of bunk beds on the left and right wall. The left bunks have lumpy mattress covers sitting upon them. The top bunk on the right side looks the same. Their original white mattresses take up all the room of the closet in the far wall. The bottom bunk on the right side still has its mattress, smooth and comfy. That’s James’ bed. I really hope this one goes right or I’ll run out of beds. Knowing I was coming back here with a James I kept the light on. If I hadn’t there’d be no way to see, James’ room has no windows. Other than the beds there’s nothing else in the room. With my right knee I nudge James in the back to head to the bed. He looks so happy with the itty-bitty steps he takes towards it. I’m sure he’s hesitant to go to bed, who would want to miss out on time with their momma? He climbs up on the mattress, keeping his head toward the ground. I walk over.

“Okay James, go ahead and lay down,” he does as I say, facing away from me. His body towards the wall. “Now, I know we’re sleepy but you can’t go to bed quite yet.” I grab at his arm and pull it back towards me. He flinches a bit. I keep pulling it back, its flexibility restraining me, he eventually gives in and turns to face me. More of those beautifully silent tears coat his skin. Now that he’s turned I can get his hand to reach the cuff that’s wrapped around the bunks pole. I latch his hand in, once again kissing him on the head. Before telling him goodnight I turn to the outlet on the wall. Laying on the floor below it is a night light. I pick it up and plug it i-

“I want it off.” No. James likes night lights. He’s wrong. He wants it on. 

“Sweetie,” my voice cracks, “M-mommy doesn’t want you saying that. Okay?” I push the night light into the outlet. The orange glow shines at full now. I stare deeply into my baby boy's eyes. Waiting for his response. 

“I want it off.”

My hand hits his face. His eyes shake with that familiar love again.

“No! No. James, you want it on. Do you understand?”

“I w-want it on.”

“Good boy, you go to bed now.”

My left hand glides a makeup wipe across my face's skin. I watch myself in the mirror. My brown curls. My slim nose. My tiny eyes. I don’t cover any of it with too much makeup, I always want James to be able to recognize me, but there’s still a bit that needs to come off before bed. I throw the dirty wipe away. After washing and lotioning my skin it’s bed time. 

It’s very early in the morning. I’m all dressed for work, but I have to take care of a few things with James before I leave. He’s strapped down in his chair. The poor baby looks drowsy. Maybe tonight I’ll have to read him a bedtime story to help him sleep. As for now, he’s crying again. My left hand presses an ice pack to the back of his ear. He’s been complaining and fussing that it’s too cold this whole time. Luckily, his restraints keep him from bucking around too much. I can deal with the crying.

“James, I need you to keep your head still. If I don’t poke this hole in the right place…I’ll have to get rid of you early.” I try to line up the needle in my right hand as he viscously shakes his head no. The ice has been on there for long enough that this shouldn’t hurt so bad. I really don’t like hurting him. I hope it doesn’t come down to it. But if I miss, I guess it’ll have to. If he doesn’t stop struggling I’ll be late to work. That can’t happen. Mommy needs money to provide for James. He’s just too young to understand. I shove the needle into his ear. He freezes. It goes right through with a satisfying lack of struggle. 

“Look now, was that so bad?” I pull the needle back out and examine the hole. Slightly uncentered on the left side of the lobe…yep. That’s exactly what we needed. All the way from the first time, with James One, I missed the middle. Every following time since then I’ve recreated it. It’s perfect. I lay down the needle and pick up the little diamond stud earring. The tiny silver post is dyed a stark red from all the fresh holes it's filled. A little memory of all my James. It gets coated in a new, more vibrant, layer as it slides into his ear. I put on the backer and kiss his head. 

“You did great. Mommy’s gotta go to work now. Behave yourself.” I unlatch him from his chair and shove him into the bedroom. I’ll leave him uncuffed. He’s been well behaved so far.

I step back inside from my day of work. I lay my purse on the mantel at the entrance and turn towards the kitchen. Down the entrance to the hall on the other side I see James’ open door. Tears instantaneously fight my eyes. Did he try to leave? My baby wants to leave me? No no no no, not again. Through my bubbling vision I look around the kitchen. Nothing is out of place. Utensils in a row. The chair bolted to the ground. Crystal clear counte- oh no. James. No. On the edge of the island is a little puddle of blood. Lying in the middle of it, the earring. Why would you take it out, son? I try to call his name but it gets caught in my throat. I move through the kitchen to the hall. 

It smells wretched. Nearing James bedroom the smell only gets worse. Everything inside there is fine, except for one thing. The zipper on the left bottom bunks mattress cover is open. You shouldn’t have looked in there James. That’s the most recent. A small, grey hand hangs outside of the cover. I shake my head. Tears dropping down my face. 

I think I need something from my room. Yeah. That’ll help. I pull open the top drawer of my night stand. I don’t keep much in there. Sleeping pills. Then this, my hand wraps around its grainy handle as I pull it out of the drawer. I lay it on the counter top and take out a box. It rattles as it moves. I open it and lay its contents into the barrel. Why’d he have to go so soon? Maybe, just maybe, I would’ve thought about this more if he kept that damn earring in. But he took it out didn’t he? Clearly he doesn’t want to be my James. Clearly he doesn’t love me. Oh well. 

“Oh Spencer, where are you?” My steps sound heavy as I clunk my way out of my room and back down the hall. Something in the kitchen makes a more metallic clink. Spencer. You messed up Spencer. His little footsteps get fainter as he seems to move away from the kitchen. I round the corner of the hall. There he is. I notice the ear I pierced, the lobe is torn. The little idiots never know how to work the earring, always ripping it out. His ugly hand fumbling with the door handle as fear absorbs his every being. The other hand clutches my kitchen knife with white knuckle intensity. His grotesque face drops a heavy rain of tears. I have no sympathy for them. We could’ve had something here kid. His vile eyes look at me with nothing but hatred. 

The door opens. Just a crack. I point the barrel at his foot and pull the trigger. His disgusting body drops to the ground. The knife falling beside him. Before he gets a chance to yell I slam the door shut. No one's going to know about you Spencer. Don’t even try. I grab him by the shirt and drag him to the bedroom. Blood trailing his leg. I’ll be stuffing another mattress tonight. Tell me, when will I find my James?