Samuel wondered where his sister was. He knew his sister better. She wouldn't just leave her son at his doorstep. Now that he thinks of it, he never knew that Stacy even had a son.
What had happened between us? he wondered. We haven't talked for years.
He took up the baby and noticed his left cheek was red. It was not red from a slap, or just a blushing emotion. It was tomato-red. It looked like liquid. He rubbed his thumb against the infant's cheek, and the red had wiped away. A drop of red spouted out of his skin, and he realized it was blood.
He quickly took the child and its box inside to the bathroom, where he cleansed its cheek. He put ointment and a band-aid on it, hoping that it would not bleed anymore.
He had no other family in the apartment—his girlfriend had left last week to visit family in Puerto Rico. But he needed to go to work. His boss would fire him, for it was his seventh time he did not attend work on time.
But how could the baby live in an office workplace? No one could babysit him. He knew no one else in the city at least not long enough to trust with a child, especially with one not of his own.
At that moment the child started to wail. I am going to be so freaking late for work, he thought. He had no diapers, or formula, or milk, or crib, or any supplies for his new child. What would he do? What to do?
No time to think now, he thought. Work is work, and I can't afford to miss it.
He took off the child's diaper and immediately absorbed the stink. He took the diaper and threw it into the trash. He took the toilet paper in the bathroom and wrapped it around the baby's legs, making a makeshift diaper. Once he did, he wrapped the child in a small blanket, put it on his shoulder, and prepared a cup of warm milk. He took his favorite water bottle and filled it with the warm milk. The child, now at peace, was cuddling against Samuel's shoulder.
He left the apartment and walked down the now busy sidewalk towards the bus stop. He looked at his watch and saw he only had ten minutes to clock into work.
He saw the bus rounding the city corner. He as well as other passengers stood up from the bench and waited anxiously to board. The bus slowly came to a stop. The boarding passengers formed a line alongside the bus. When it was Samuel's turn, the bus driver looked at his bus ticket, and shook his head.
"What do you think you're doing?" the driver asked.
"I think I'm taking the bus to work."
"You see these credentials?" the driver said as he waved them in his face. "Expired."
Samuel gasped. Are you serious? He thought. I grabbed my expired card? Why do I even have it anymore?
He began to plead. "Please, sir! I'm gonna be late for work! Please take me on!"
"No, and I'm going to be late for work, as well. You're holding up the line. NEXT!" A disappointed Samuel got off the bus and looked for other ways to get to work.
Work was at Singley Avenue, all the way across town. He supposed he could call a cab. No, I don't like their service.
After much contemplation, Samuel concluded that the only way to work was to bike there. He had an old bike inside the entertainment room of his apartment. It was so old that he even forgot that he even had a bike until this very moment.
When he arrived at the apartment, he took out his key and stuck it into the lock. He opened the door and walked in. He set the child down and ran into the entertainment room, grabbing his bike. Apparently it had been so long since he had ridden his bike that he no longer fit in it. Too late now, he thought. He took the bike outside and carried the infant alongside in his arm. He only had five minutes to get across town. He began biking down Hartman Road frantically and began sweating two minutes into the ride.
One minute left, he said, glancing at his watch. He pedaled as hard as he could. The child in his arms stared into Samuel's eyes. Samuel was wondering why the infant was so curious in him. Why him? He pondered this so much he almost crashed into a car.
He turned onto Singley Avenue. As soon as he reached the building, he got off the bicycle and threw it onto the ground. The child was now in his arms and still stared into his eyes. Samuel looked up. Booking and Associates: Accountants and Passes. He had yet to understand why the name included Passes.
He ran inside happily and clocked in, with nearly ten seconds to spare. But it had dawned on him. He screamed. He forgot to grab the key he left in the door.
“SAMUEL!” a deep, scratchy voice yelled out. “YOU'RE LATE.”
