All My Mother's Rules

Chapter 45: Only A Few Minutes Left

Thirty-one minutes left.

Textbooks, pens, pencils, crumpled papers, candy wrappers, an empty water bottle, and an assortment of other academic odds and ends lay spread out across the bedsheet, a result of the haphazard emptying of my backpack, which I had unceremoniously flipped upside down the moment I was certain Mom was headed down the road on her way to pick Emilia up from preschool.

I wasn't entirely sure of how much room I would need in my backpack, so I gave myself I much as I could. Though that meant I'd need to make sure to give myself extra time to clean up again once I returned home. I slipped my jeans back on over the pull-up, making sure the purple outline of the pull-up wasn't visible over the top of my pants.

After leaving the bedroom, I glanced out the front window again toward the driveway, confirming once more that Mom's car was absent. I took a deep breath to steady myself. I either had to leave right now or wait until the next opportunity when I'd be left at home by myself. No time to think things over again. No time to revise the plans I'd been carefully considering for the last several weeks.

The thought of having to spend another day kept in diapers and held home from school won out over the anxiety of everything that could go wrong and the consequences that would bring. I stepped into the garage and carefully shut the door behind me.

As I stood next to my bicycle, I double-checked that I had everything that I needed. The money to pay for my purchase was safely in my pocket. I had the spare key to make sure I'd be able to get back into the house when I returned. And I had the bike lock tucked inside the backpack. No way was I going to end up walking home because someone had snagged my bike while I was inside shopping.

Twenty-six minutes left.

My hair flew back from my face as I biked down the sidewalk away from home. I attempted to act casual as I glided across the pavement, but while I wasn't racing, I also wasn't going at a meandering pace. According to Google Maps, it should only take me about five minutes to get to the pharmacy, leaving me with more than enough time to get what I needed to get and to return home well before Mom was back.

I couldn't avoid glancing ahead every time I heard an approaching car as I made my way down the road. I knew there was no way that I'd see Mom's car coming toward me at this point, but the need to look up and assuage my fears was too great for me to resist. I nearly swerved off the sidewalk in shock on one occasion when I looked to see a car that was the same make and model as Mom's, only to be relieved to see that the front passenger seat wasn't empty.

Having gotten out of the neighborhood, I approached the one major intersection I was going to need to cross. I could make out the pharmacy across the road, standing by itself next to a half-deserted strip mall. I came to a stop at the traffic light, as the crossing indicator was red, quickly tapping the button that supposedly made the crosswalk change lights faster, not that it ever seemed to do that for me.

As I stood by myself at the intersection, I felt as if the eyes of everyone in every passing vehicle were bearing down on me, wondering what I was doing and where I was going. I knew each stranger passing by me wouldn't give me a second thought – if they even managed to give me a first one – but the knowledge of what I was going to buy on this shopping trip was making me extremely self-conscious. I noticed myself unconsciously tugging my shirt down to cover the top of my pants.

Time seemed to be passing much faster than I wanted it to as I stood impatiently next to my bike. I'd never noticed how long it took to cross an intersection like this before. But I'd also never needed to do so this urgently. A minute had already passed by on the countdown on my phone.

And doubt began to creep back in. I didn't have to cross the road. I could still turn back, park the bicycle where I left it in the garage, remove my jeans, and re-fill my backpack with all my school supplies. Everything would be exactly as it had been before Mom had left to pick up Emilia. She wouldn't know I had been gone.