I cried in the Chevron, right after the woman changed one of my dollars into quarters and told me to try 7-11 for changing the other one. Just started sobbing.
“Why are you crying?”
Because I had to raid Edie’s piggybank for laundry money. Because Edie ran to get her piggy bank when I said I needed laundry quarters. Because she handed me a thick stack of nickels and said, “here are quarters because they are white,” but nickels don’t fit in the slots of the washer and dryer downstairs. Because it was Edie’s bedtime and instead of reading stories in bed we were trying to change two wrinkled dollars, three dimes, and four nickels into 10 quarters because one load of laundry takes 12 quarters and Edie had already given me two. Because we were out of dry sheets.
“I had to get money out of my daughter’s piggybank for laundry,” might be what came out of my mouth between sobs.
The lady gave me the look she gives all the crazy drug-addled customers who wander in causing drama. “What?”
“Maybe it’s my period or something.”
She didn’t understand and neither would I have. I thanked her and walked out with the 4 quarters she gave me.
The last time I cried in public was a few months ago, when the break-up was so fresh it was still squirting blood and I had to drink a bottle of wine every night just to dull the sharp edges. Something related to the break-up had set me to crying as I drove Edie home and I just wanted to get her in bed so I could be as sad as I felt, but she stayed awake and awake and awake. Then she told me that her ear hurt, but she was so close to sleep I thought she’d just drop off and we could deal with it the next day. She didn’t. She was crying in pain and I was still adjusting to being the only adult in the house, since we moved out of my mom’s house in April. Finally I bundled her into the carseat and drove to the 7-11. On the way there she said, exhausted, “Mommy, I just want to stay in the car while you go get medicine.” The 7-11 is fronted by all glass windows and I thought it would be a quick in and out trip, so I planned to lock her in the car and run in. When I parked the car, though, there was a woman sitting in her car, a space away from mine, staring at me with her mouth in a straight line. She stared at me as I turned off the car, stared at me as I got out, stared at me as I walked around to Edie’s door to tell her I’d be right back, and stared at me as I hit the power locks (by then feeling pretty creeped out). She stared at me until I walked past her window and then she said, “That’s illegal.”
“Excuse me?” I said.
“You can’t leave your kid in the car, there’s murderers and rapists and it’s because of people like you that kids get stolen from cars. That’s illegal.”
“I just need some medicine for my sick kid!” I said, but she kept on ranting at me about what a horrible parent I was, while I tried to say something about how she had no idea what kind of parent I was, but she didn’t listen and kept talking, until the words “FUCK. YOU.” escaped my mouth.
“Oh, fuck me? Fuck ME?! I’ll call the cops on you right now and report that you’re leaving your kid out here to get kidnapped or whatever!” while she got out her phone.
I said, “Well, I’m not leaving her out here with YOU so there’s nothing to report!” and then I opened Edie’s door so I could unbuckle her carseat. As I did, this woman started calling me a dog and a whore and all kinds of things so I shut Edie’s door, turned around, and ROARED at her “DO NOT SWEAR AT ME IN FRONT OF MY KID!!!
The 7-11 clerk who looks like Lister from Red Dwarf came out and stood on the sidewalk in front of the store but didn’t say anything. I said, “This woman is harassing me…and I just need some medicine for my kid!” and he turned and went back inside. I whisked Edie past the parking lot troll as she stood in the space between her car and mine, on the phone with 911, and hunted for children’s tylenol in the store that had condoms, energy boosters, and grown-up tylenol, but no children’s tylenol anywhere. I stared at the products while Edie pointed out something random in a black package, “there it is, it’s the black medicine!” and while I was telling her, “they don’t have children’s medicine, we’ll have to go to another store,” I burst into tears. The 5 people in line and the clerk all turned to stare at me, along with the woman in the parking lot who was still on the phone, while Edie was asking, “why they don’t have any medicine here?” and I ran out of the store, crying. I buckled Edie into her carseat, but before I could even unlock the driver’s side door I started wailing loudly, uncontrollably, like a baby. I got in the car to get away from the woman, but it was about 5 minutes before I could compose myself enough to drive. Edie was understandably terrified, and I was such a wreck that when she asked why I was crying I told her “because that woman wants to call the police on me for leaving you in the car.” Edie spent the rest of the drive to Fred Meyer’s worrying about the police while I tried to assure her that I hadn’t done anything wrong and the police weren’t going to come get me. “I don’t like the police,” she said.
The trip to Fred Meyer’s was pretty calm, except for my silent weeping as I located the pharmacy aisle and found the medicine we needed. That woman’s face kept floating back into my mind and a fresh batch of tears would come, and there is something about crying in public that lends itself to more crying. It’s like trying not to laugh in church…trying to stop only makes it more powerful. When I cry in public I cry harder than ever, because it is just SO SAD that I am so sad I can’t even keep myself under control in the middle of a store. The checkout lady had the good sense not to ask me how my night was going, after looking from the medicine on the counter to my red, puffy face. She just said, “hope it gets better…” and it did, after a dose of tylenol and a peaceful drive home with Edie sleeping in the back, a bottle of wine and a couple of phone calls.
So when I walked out of 7-11 this evening with the same two crumpled dollars we’d walked in with, after Lister denied my request for change because he needs his quarters, I flashed back to the night I couldn’t find medicine in his store and started to feel the same frustration. Then as we walked toward the Chevron station across the street, the tears just came and I couldn’t stop them.
And when Edie saw my tears she got very mothery, saying, “Don’t worry, we’ll get some money,” and “do you need me to give you a hug?” which was sweet and terrible at the same time. I am her mom but sometimes we get mixed up and I find she is leading me by the hand. She is strong and brave and smart and independent, but she is still a child. A child who feels like she has to be in control because there is so much around her that is out of control, and it’s partly on me.
I’ll say it one more time because it’s still true and important: I hope I grow up before Edie does. Let me be the one with quarters to share.
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