Life Fiction| That’s MY Daugther
Life fiction is stories from my life that has been exaggerated for entertainment purposes. Almost all of it is true, expect for some of the dialogue. You can find more stories (once I create them) under the Splash of Crazy category.
I’m huffing my daughter in a stroller with my son and fiancé by my heels on a skinny path on the highway that we call the bridge.
As we race to the other side of the highway, making sure no cars is turning, I hear a raspy whisper in my ear. I can’t turn around now, but the words sounds familiar to an introduction. Biting my bottom lip, I let the strange voice fade to the back of my mind. Besides, I’m running for my life, literally. Luckily, the construction on the highway isn’t finished. The lane that allows cars to get off the highway for the side we are crossing is closed, so our race across is short.
On the other side, I push the stroller toward Jackson, my fiancé for a brief moment while I catch my breath. “Here, babe.” I say between pants.
Leah notices the switch and begins to wail. “I want momma’s phone” over and over.
I hand her the phone and lean against the railing. My stomach turns as the cars zoom below. This is way too high for me. My focus blurs and it takes my son poking me in my side and starling me to get my attention.
He smacks his lips. “I’m hungry, mom. Come on.”
At the same time, Leah is having a fit because of the volume on the phone is low.
Kids. Wiping off the sweat, I say to my fiancé, “Turn that up for her so she can hush. And Bubba, we’re almost there stop whining.”
Bubba looks up at me then cocks his head back and grunts. “It’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair,” I argue, snatching off my hood from my head allowing the warmth I kept within to collide with the cool autumn breeze.
“Ugh, but I’m hungry,” My son whines.
“Fine.” I say, pushing my daughter down the side path next to the highway across into a Denny’s parking lot. There’s no winning.
As I am pushing the stroller, the whisper comes heavier, the person’s breath closer to my ear. So close I can smell alcohol and taste it on the tip of my tongue. The sensation makes my stomach knot. My instincts are heightened and I swivel around.
A woman in ragged skin tight clothing with her hand out introduces herself. “Hi, I’m Anita. Lita’s mother.”
My eyebrow lift in disgust. I know where she is heading and I don’t like it. “And?”
“You have my daughter.”
This woman has lost her mind. Like, I wouldn’t know if I had a child or not. “Excuse me. She is my daughter and I’d appreciate it if you’d take your business else where. Preferably far away from me.”
The woman rolls her eyes and snaps her fingers. Not sure why, though. “Lita is my daughter. Let me see her.”
I turn the stroller away from the woman and position myself in front of her. Like hell she will. “You have three seconds to get out of my face.” Even though I was the one who stepped up to her.
“Mom, what’s taking you so long?” Bubba calls from further up the parking lot.
My fiancé takes off his hood, with confusion and alert. he stands in silence. Narrowing my eyes, I nod my head. He knows what’s up. He starts walking towards our son, reassuring him that I’m on my way.
My daughter pays no attention to her surroundings, captivated by the comical videos she’s watching on my phone.
Anita, or whatever her name is, tries to see my daughter again. Pretending to walk ahead and then turning back to steal a glance. I give the woman zero chances and turns the stroller where my daughter faces me.
The woman mumbles under her breath then paces down a back alley. When she spots a car, she waves it down then props her weight on the driver’s side, making sure to show her breast. Or the breast she believes to be there.
“Really?” Shaking my head, I push my daughter and make it back to the rest of the family.
Jackson looks back to the woman who is now getting in the passenger’s side of another vehicle. “Who was she?”
I grunt then say, “Apparently she’s Leah’s or let me rephrase that Lita’s mother.”