I dashed down the crowded steps, elbowing old women, children and other folks on their way up, cursing and yelling at them for being in my way. Again I saw her, laughing and tottering after another boy her age in circles. My little girl, I must take her home.
A hand gripped my arm. I turned with a frown on my brows and a scream in my mouth. I clawed his face. He released my arm and grasped both my wrists then he shook me. "Helen! Helen!" My head jerked, my eyes widened and I gasped up at him, realizing my mistake.
An old couple stopped next to us and the lady asked, "Is everything alright, Albert?"
The man turned his dazed gaze to her, as though distressed and unsure about what to say.
Summoning as much courage as I could, I whined, "He won't let me get my baby. He won't let me get my little girl."
He shook his head with a frown of reprimand on his brow then he released one wrist and covered his eyes before wiping a tear away. "Mrs Su, this is my wife Helen."
A bell tolled, startling me and making me look up to the church spire, entranced. I smiled. I split my lips into an open grin, happy that my baby would soon be home.
As I swayed to a lullaby under my breath, I could hear the old man say, "I am sorry. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask."
"Thank you," the man said and released my other wrist before wrapping his arm around my waist. "Come on, dear, it is time to go to Mass."
I let him lead me up the steps smiling and waving at everyone who looked my way. It had been a month since I attended Mass and each time after I went, my baby would come home. Every time my baby came home, she would stay for a month before going away again. The man told me that if I go to Mass and smile and wave at everyone then they would let him bring her home.
After forty minutes of sitting as still as I possibly could, while the people about me stood, knelt or sat according to the whim and fancy of the presiding priest, the man took my hand and we walked down the aisle behind a line of other worshippers to receive the host. The priest placed a piece of wafer on the man's tongue but when I jutted mine out to receive the same, he only placed a hand on my crown and said a prayer. I was disappointed. Every one of the priests did that to me. Still, I used the opportunity to smile and wave to him and the altar boys, one of whom actually stepped back and almost stumbled on his robes.
I giggled. The man whispered in my ear, "Behave," and a chill went up my spine. I bowed my head and walked back to our seats with him. A few more minutes and we again followed the crowd, this time to the nearest exit. Again and again strange people approached him and asked if there was anything they could do to help. He always thanked them politely though he shook his head as though in resignation of his fate. I smiled and waved at them all. At the door, the same priest beckoned us to his side then together with some other elderly worshippers who stood in a circle around us, he said a long, long prayer which everyone including the man 'amen-ed' with fervor.
I was relieved when we finally got to the van. When he slid the side door open, I immediately climbed into the back and snuggled in a corner between half-filled carton boxes. He dragged the door shut, enveloping me in shadows.
He drove for a long time, at times fast, at times slow, and sometimes he would leave the van, but he always returned though never soon enough for me. Just as I was about to despair that I will never see my baby again, the door slid open. I clapped my hands with glee. My baby, my beautiful sleeping baby. I reached for her, and cradled her and kissed her. I missed her so much. She must had missed me too because she looked so much thinner than usual.
The van hummed and we began our journey home. I hoped the man wouldn't cook his special dinner anytime soon, because he always sent my baby away every time he did.
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