When that first child is on the way, every woman wonders, What kind of mother will I be? Beth Fraser had plenty of reason to wonder, but she didn’t really find out until her daughter, Dana, was four years old.
They were still living in San Francisco and had gone to Bloomingdale’s, the big one on Market Street. Beth had a partners’ meeting about the new fund for Lumination Ventures. There were problems with the suit she had ordered. At the time, this had seemed important.
The woman behind the counter was slower than molasses in January. Beth demanded to speak to her manager. The charge was not accepted, the alterations had not been completed as promised, and they were going to get this sorted out.
Beth had told Dana to stand right here. She promised Dana a trip to the Disney Store just as soon as they’d straightened out this one thing.
The manager came over. Beth looked down. Dana was not there.
Beth did not remember anything after that for a while.
Dana remembered a bit more. Not everything, but more.
For instance, she remembered promising she would stand right here so Mommy could talk to the store lady. She remembered feeling that if she could look out the big front window, maybe she could see the Disney Store. She remembered the idea that right here kind of included the window, because she could see the window and Mommy at the same time. She remembered not really moving. Just drifting. She was still right here. Mommy was arguing with the lady behind the counter. She could hear them. She was still right here.
“Hey there.”
She remembered looking up to see a man in a gray suit and blue overcoat. His hair was slicked back in dark stripes against his pink-and-tan scalp. She remembered he had very round blue eyes and plump, pink hands.
“You lost?”
Dana shook her head.
“Where’s your mommy, then?”
Dana looked around. Suddenly she wasn’t sure. Mommy was by the counter. That was her dark jacket, but that wasn’t her head. She didn’t wear that hat. She was right here, wasn’t she?
“Oh, wait,” said the man. “I see her out there. Come on.”
He took Dana’s hand, and all at once she was walking with him. She wasn’t sure how that happened.
They were going out the sliding door now, and he was right behind her, bumping into her back and kind of pushing her along. Then, they were out on the sidewalk, heading up the hill, and his big, soft hand was holding hers and he was saying, “Now, where did Mommy go? Oh! There she is. Come on!” He gave her hand a little shake and also squeezed her fingers. Dana craned her neck, trying to see what he saw. He was pulling her along too fast. His hot, damp hand hurt as he squeezed her fingers and sang, “There she is! Come on! Keep up, sweetie!”
Then the world spun, and the sidewalk slammed against her head and Dana saw stars.
She sat up, not sure how she got onto the ground. The man was on the ground too, and Mommy was there. She was screaming—bad, bad words, louder than sirens, louder than anything. A lot of people were yelling.
The man was bleeding, and Mommy was kicking him. Hard. His head was bleeding. Bright red smeared his hot, pink hands. He was crying.
Mommy kicked him again, right in the teeth. His head snapped back.
A big lady with sunglasses swept Dana into her arms.
The man with the pink hands wasn’t moving anymore. Mommy turned around and walked up to the lady and to Dana.
“Give me back my daughter.”
The lady handed Dana across. Mommy wrapped Dana in her arms and they sat down on the curb. Mommy held Dana on her lap. She was breathing hard. Dana could feel her chest heaving under her jacket. Her eyes were straight ahead. She was shaking all over, and tears streamed down her face.
Dana wanted to hug her. She knew she should hug her, but she couldn’t. Not while her eyes were so blank like that. It was like she wasn’t even her mother anymore.
Beth didn’t know what was happening inside her daughter’s mind. All she knew was that somebody had tried to take Dana away, and she stopped them. Of course, the cops were on their way now. There would be lots of cops, and eventually lawyers. There’d be questions to answer and lies to tell. So very many lies. She needed to have them all lined up and ready to go.