“Mommy?”
She pressed her lips tightly once and then placed her hands on the nearest shoes. Plain white leather tennies. Her hand trembled as she looked down at them, as if they were the most important pair in the store.
“Let’s . . . keep looking,” she said quietly.
I helped Marlow put the glittery shoes back, then took her hand. Mom stayed at the display in the front of the store, picking up pair after pair, glancing at them for a few seconds and then putting them down. She didn’t seem to even take them in. She was on autopilot.
“Isla, I liked those,” Marlow whispered loudly.
“Just—listen to Mom right now. Look for some comfy ones, okay?” I looked back over at her.
We browsed for a while longer before Mom walked back to me. “Where’s Marlow?”
“Huh?” I looked around. She had just been there, next to me, pretending to twirl. She couldn’t disappear again.
Or could she?
Mom’s voice started to rise. “Where is she?”
“She was looking for comfy shoes . . . I told her to.” I motioned to the corner but there was a boy and his father there instead.
“Well, she’s not there.”
Mom heaved her shoulders up and then down. I could see the panic swell up inside her and then snap into a calmness.
“Isla. Did you still want that Orange Julius?”
I peered up toward her. “Yeah . . . but don’t we need to find—”
“Let’s go, then. Before there’s a line,” she said briskly, snatching my hand and leading me out of the store.
I turned around for one last glance. One last look for Marlow. I didn’t question Mom. Why should I?
Ten minutes later, I sat on a light-colored wooden bench next to Mom. I slurped the drink a few times and kicked my legs. The emptier my cup got, the stranger the feeling in my stomach became.
“Do you think we should go . . . look for her now?”
Mom had her hands in her lap. She hadn’t moved much since we sat down.
“I could go check a different store. Maybe the toy store?” I suggested meekly.
She shook her head and stood up.
“It’s getting late. Your father and Moni are probably wondering where we are.”
“But . . .”
“Let’s go, Isla,” she ordered.
The orange liquid no longer tasted sweet. It had gone chemical in my mouth. I wanted to throw it away right then.
“I can’t.”
“What?”
“Without her.”
I thought I saw Mom’s eyes go wet. But she blinked twice with a harshness and then her mouth opened slightly.
Skipping toward us was Marlow, hand in hand with a mall police officer. He wore a jacket with navy fur on the collar that made him appear as if he had no neck.
“Mommy!” Marlow ran to us and hugged Mom, her hands looped around her waist.
Mom didn’t move.
“Ma’am, is this your daughter?”
The officer looked at Marlow and then Mom, desperately trying not to show what was likely in his head.
This woman? This woman who looks like the poster child for Scandinavia is mother to these little ones?
“Yes,” she answered.
“Were you looking for her?” He looked down at me, the drink in my hand and then back at Mom.
“We thought she was at the shoe store,” answered Mom slowly.
The officer cleared his throat. “Is that right, little lady? Did you tell your mom you were going to the shoe store?”
