The Link

Chapter 3 - Sam

"I'm supposed to see the police in Winslow," I said, keeping my falsehoods straight. Maybe Charlie forgot. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Mary, or whatever her name is ... special," Charlie straightened his arms, pushing his back into the seat and flexing his shoulders. "I don't know how, but she showed me things when you were getting your bags." He turned to me, "She trusts you, so I trust you. I even trust that your lies are necessary." His eyes returned to the road. I watched him for a moment. I wasn't the only one Stinky affected. Jealousy flashed for a moment, but I let it go.

"You felt her?" I verified.

"If you can call it that," he answered, "one second I was rubbing her back and the next I was perfectly there." Perfect was a good word. Supreme clarity. "I know you cared for the woman in that car. I know you care for Mary. I also sensed your need to stay under the radar."

"I call her Stinky," I said. Stinky lit up and smiled at my words. "I don't know her real name either." Charlie smiled as well. "My real name is Samuel. My friends call me Sam."

"Why Stinky, Sam?" he asked.

"Let's stop at a grocery store and I'll show you," I said with humor, "I didn't know when she ate last, but I do know when she pooped last." Charlie laughed. It was a good healthy laugh that brought out a breathy one from Stinky.

"Food is a good idea," Charlie agreed. I confided in him, telling him the truth as I knew it, knowing he had felt a lot of it through Stinky. I left out the ten pounds of pot since I didn't know where he drew his moral line. We pulled into a grocery store off Interstate 40, inside of Winslow proper. I fished out pants and a shirt for Stinky so she would be more presentable.

"She sure is a calm child," Charlie observed, "my brothers kids can't go thirty minutes without complaining about something." He was right, not that I had much experience. When I paid attention to her, she smiled. When I didn't, she just watched me. I suspect she was as hungry as I was, but not a single cry to let me know.

"Special," was all I said. Charlie nodded. I added some socks which seemed to please Stinky or maybe she thought I was playing with her feet. No matter. Her smile owned me.

Two men with a baby pushing a cart through a grocery attracted attention. I hadn't thought it would, but we were getting looks. Mostly from the women. A glance at us, one at Stinky and a strange knowing smile. I think they thought we were a gay couple with a child. I started smiling back. I was the type of person who didn't get second looks. Stinky got me those looks, even if it was for the wrong reason. I straightened, trying to look like a good father.

We hit the diaper aisle and stocked up. I grabbed a few more boxes of wipes. I had to figure out a way to not use half a box per poop. We moved to the baby food aisle and were immediately lost. Neither of us had any idea of what to get. There were choices galore and advertising that seemed specific to age and development. I wasn't sure how old Stinky was. Charlie gave me a funny look and a shrug when I asked him. So, I asked Stinky.

I wrapped my hand around Stinky's and let the tingle turn to wonder. Wonder to clear thought. Memories from bits of conversation and blurbs from words I had forgotten I'd read came flooding back. I stuck my little finger in Stinky's mouth. A couple of sharp little razors bit down. New teeth, somewhere around six months. Not crawling yet, less than ten months. I moved along the aisle till I found the proper solid food choices. Nothing dramatic, some carrots and green beans, well pureed. I picked up some Cheerios for her to gnaw on. Water and some yogurt for a cool treat. I opted for formula instead of milk. I remembered hearing some TV doctor say that cow's milk should be introduced slowly, at around eight months. I was in the third grade when I watched that with my mother.