She should be walking by now

She should be walking by now. 

Amanda took all the steps her toddler could not: all the trips and the stumbles and the unsteadiness of the world. Steps to the bookshelf, finding reassurance in the footnotes. Steps to the doctor’s, finding hope in the margins. Steps to the bathroom so her husband wouldn’t hear her cry.

She should be walking by now.

Amanda made excuses to the other moms as their children scurried across the playground, pittering and pattering and leaving her daughter behind. Moving endlessly forward and kicking dirt in her baby’s eyes. Eyes that harbored a sadness they couldn’t comprehend, eyes that swam in frustration. Her mother’s eyes, albeit a different color.

She should be walking by now.

Amanda crawled to her daughter when the sun veiled its shame. When the glow of the television filled the room with escape. Mother and child playfully giggled, each pretending everything was okay, each relying on bottles they should have outgrown. Both fell asleep on the floor, cold and hungry. 

“Get off of me.” Amanda cried as her husband guided her to the couch.

“She’s staying with my sister, and that’s that.” His booming voice shook the liquor cabinet, causing her demons to dance and rattle and flirt with her all over again.

“I can stop. I can stop,” she repeated until the words lost all meaning. 

“You couldn’t give it up for nine months. I doubt you’ll start today.” He kissed his daughter’s forehead. “She should be walking by now.”