The Child near the Road

There's a small store ten minutes on foot from where I live. My neighborhood was small, on the poor side with sloping roofs, doors hanging off their hinges, and large families sharing only one or two or even three- if they're lucky- rooms in the house. One bathroom, and, again if you're lucky, a working shower.

Most of the grass was dead, it was beginning to get cold and the house in front of mine was deserted aside from old curtains, furniture, and the overgrown yellow grass. There's a sign in the window that's falling off, it says, 'Smile You're on Video' in bright yellow. A smiley face turned black with dirt.

It was early October and my mother needed her medication refilled. I didn't have a car or even a license. My older sister had both but refused to drive for whatever reason. So, I slipped on my shoes and walked out the door.

The wind was unkind and I walked through piles of dead leaves. There are rarely cars here, if one happened to drive through the neighborhood it was usually quickly and by mistake. Passing the houses I came across the side of the neighborhood with the infamous sidewalk.

The one that often had abandoned little shoes made for children, socks, gloves, and sometimes coats. Never in a pair. Only one shoe, one glove, and one sock. They were always littered on this sidewalk. And no one ever questioned why these articles of clothing were here, how they got here, and who they belonged to. They were just simply there.

I walked until I was halfway toward the store, and I could see the store from afar. I kept my gaze lowered in case there was another person on a walk or passing by, making eye contact here was an invitation and I was never someone who engaged in idle conversation. I'd rather be dead than talk about my day, or what my weekend plans were, it's all rather trivial and I've never been an outgoing person coming from a large and loud family.

I walked and then I saw a red truck coming out onto the main road from another smaller neighborhood, it was a place for low-income apartment complexes. The truck was stopped and seemed to wait to get onto the main street. Though it was empty so I slowed down. Wary I stared at the truck slightly from afar, wondering what they were waiting for.

Horror stories came rushing into my head, of those videos on YouTube about people going through their everyday lives and having that one day where their values, routines, and normalcy were ruined by something strange or terrifying happening to them.

I stopped and watched and then they rolled one of their windows down. It was an old couple a man and a woman, and the woman pointed down, in the direction in front of the truck. I looked, fuck me. There was a kid. He was only wearing diapers. No shoes, shirt, or pants, and no one around him other than myself and the old couple in their truck.

No one said anything, it was a standstill, and strangely it felt like one of those old western movies with the showdown, looking at each other and waiting for the first move, the kid only stood there, looking around and nearly in tears.

In the end, I lost the showdown and was holding the child in my arms. The couple drove off, probably happy that they didn't have to deal with the child.

It was just me and him. He was shivering, I was sure he was cold but I also knew he was shaking from fear. He was my problem now.

I looked into the entrance of the apartment complexes, the area the truck was coming from. I thought, "Well if he's from anywhere he would be from there."

I gave the kid my jacket to keep him warm. He was heavy, he looked a little too old to still be wearing diapers but, then again, I also knew nothing about children and their development.

I wasn't sure how old he was, he looked older than a baby. He could walk but couldn't speak, only ever made sounds.

I turned to the kid and asked, "What's your name?"

He didn't respond, and I felt like an idiot.

I walked into the complex and quickly spotted a group of four boys, older than me by the looks of it- they were around a fire and talking among themselves. I went up to them regardless of my growing anxiety. I'm not one to start conversations, I often find myself being thrust into them by a friend or my nosy older sister.

"Hello," I said. "Do you guys recognize this kid? I found him near the main street."

They looked at me and then at the kid.

"Oh, no we don't... so you don't know who that kid belongs to?"

"No, I just found him in nothing but diapers."

"... Dang, well good luck."

I was slightly taken aback. They didn't care. I stood there like a fool for a moment before walking off again, going deeper into this strange new neighborhood I had only ever seen in passing. As I walked, I grew angry. I wondered why those guys didn't care, why they didn't give me more information, why they let me stand there like an idiot instead of telling me to fuck off.

Then again, they've never met me. And it was strange to think about. A random young woman without a coat in cold weather saying a child she was holding didn't belong to her... a perfect start to a horror film.

The kid quickly warmed up to me. Playing with my hair and necklace, mumbling incoherent phrases whenever I decided to murmur under my breath about how tiring this was, what I would do if I can't find this kid's family, and how cold I was getting.

I didn't have a phone so calling the police wasn't an option. I couldn't take him back home with me as my family isn't the kind and welcoming type.

I stopped my trek when I found a small playground. I needed to sit down and so I walked there and sat the kid on my lap. He had been perfectly content with staying where he was but I was weak and I tried to set him down. I panicked when he started to cry, I picked him up again and he stopped his whining.

Children were stressful little beings. I never know what they want, who they wanted, why they cried, and what upset them. I sat there, letting the kid do what he wanted before I heard a woman start yelling in the distance.

She was outside, yelling in a language I didn't recognize at other children a little older than the one I had on my lap. I noticed that she looked like the child I found.

A miracle. I thought.

I stood up, hiking the child higher on my hip, and made my way toward her.

Excited thinking this was the last of my unexpected journey I slowed my steps when I got closer.

She was a thin woman, her part of the double apartment had looked no better than mine, with a sloped roof and a door hanging on its hinges. The children she yelled at were all laughing, obviously playing a game that involved the wrath of the angry mother. Or, what I assumed to be their mother.

She had noticed me and immediately her gaze locked on the child. She came up with a broom high in the air- I thought I was about to be hit- but all she did was angrily take the kid from my arm. Ignoring me entirely she brought the child inside and I stood there watching the other children continue their game for a moment.

Leaving the apartments, I was in a daze. Completely confused and fuzzy mind. I had briefly wondered if I had just imagined it all.

Only when I walked into the store for my mother's medication did I remember, I lost my jacket.