The Escape Collection: (The Escape Collection) by Elena Aitken Read Free Book Online

She kept bouncing and paced around her room. Only two months had passed, but already Patty’s room was no longer her own. Sure, she still had the Kirk Cameron and Corey Haim posters pinned to the walls. And her shelves still held the childish porcelain dolls her mom used to buy her when she was a kid. But her dresser had been completely taken over. Her make-up and knickknacks replaced by diapers, wipes, creams, and diaper rash ointments. Patty had to clear out some of her drawers, stuffing her own clothes into plastic bags and throwing them in the back of the closet to make room for sleepers and tiny outfits. She’d even moved her desk into the hallway to make room for the crib.
    Despite all the bouncing and walking, Whitney refused to stop shrieking. The sound was making it harder for Patty to concentrate or think a concrete thought. How could she be expected to think of a way to stop the crying, when she couldn’t even formulate a thought?  
    She went out into the dark hallway, but instead of taking the baby downstairs, Patty walked up and down the hallway, repeatedly passing her mother’s closed door. After what seemed like hours, but could have only been seconds, her mother’s door opened.  
    “Thank God.” Patty moved to hand her mother the screaming baby. “I don’t know what to do.”  
    Patty’s mother, Hazel, was a tiny woman, smaller even than Patty herself. But despite her physical size, Hazel was an imposing presence, especially with the glow of her bedside lamp illuminating her from behind. She crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips.  
    “Mom. Take the baby. Please.” Patty thrust Whitney again toward her mother.  
    “Patricia,” her mother spoke slowly. “I told you, I would not be caring for this child. I’ll help you, but—”
    “I need help. Now.” Tears pricked at Patty’s eyes, but she blinked them away. She wouldn’t cry in front of her mom. Patty looked down at the baby, who at that moment was a terrible shade of red. Tears were streaming down her pudgy cheeks, soaking the collar of her sleeper. “Mom. Please.”  
    “You need to learn how to do this on your own, Patricia.” She looked at her shrieking granddaughter, and for a moment Patty thought her mother might relent and take the baby from her arms. Instead, she asked, “Did you change her?”
    “She’s dry.” Patty hefted Whitney over her shoulder and resumed bouncing.
    “Hungry?”  
    “Just fed her.”
    “Does she need to burp?”
    As if the baby was waiting for someone competent to diagnose what was wrong, she chose that moment to burp and promptly spit-up—down Patty’s back.  
    “Oh, gross!” Patty lifted the baby, who was no longer crying, off her shoulder and held her out. She squirmed from side to side, trying in vain to get away from the wet, warm milk that was seeping through her sleep shirt.
    “Patty, didn’t you burp her?”
    “Of course I did,” Patty shot back. She’d changed Whitney’s diaper and settled into the chair to feed her. She’d dozed off and then…she’d woken up and put the baby in the crib. Damn it.  
    Patty's mother shook her head. “You have to remember.” She grabbed Whitney and tucked the baby into the crook of her arm. “There now, don’t you feel better?” she cooed.  
    “Of course she feels better,” Patty said. “She just threw up all over me.” She picked at her shirt, resisting the urge to pull it off. “So disgusting.”  
    “I would’ve thought you’d be used to disgusting by now. Babies aren’t all rainbows and sunshine, you know?” Patty's mother raised an eyebrow at her daughter and walked past her down the hall, talking softly to the baby in her arms.  
    Patty watched them go. Maybe if she hadn’t been quite so sleep-deprived, she would’ve been angry. She should’ve been angry. Her mother had been all helpful for the first little bit, and that was a good thing, since she had no idea what she was doing. But for the last