Tommy

Tommy

          Tommy woke quickly from sleep and popped out of bed rubbing his eyes. Was she home? He looked toward his bedroom door. The green flaked paint stared silently back at him. The baby was awake, standing in the corner of the crib, a bottle full of water hanging out of his mouth. His filthy diaper hung without rubber pants and his nose was caked with mucus. At least he was not fussing. If she had a man with her she wouldn't be able to stand the baby fussing.
          Tommy padded quietly on bare feet and put his ear to the door. Then he noticed his own nakedness. His only pair of pajamas were so filthy he had to abandon them last night. He padded over to one of the many piles of laundry heaped on the floor and picked out a pair of shorts and jeans. Then he found an odd pair of socks.
          He walked over to the babies crib and gave him a kiss. "You be quiet," he whispered. I'll go see if she's here."
          Opening the door cautiously, he quietly peeked into the hallway. Her bedroom door was shut fast and the hallway was empty. He thought he heard sounds from the kitchen.
          "Mom?" he carefully called out to her. "Mom?"
          He continued down the hall on quiet feet and peeked around the corner. She was sitting at the kitchen table with her head in her hands. He saw a bag full of groceries on the counter. She would be sorry, he knew. At least she was home.

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