“Calm down,” she said. “Besides, I discovered a whole section back there with pens and stuff.”
“How would that be helpful?”
She pulled one out. “I can write down the baby’s measurements.”
She turned to Maritza. “How you doing, doll?”
“Make it stop,” Maritza said. “Make it stop!”
The women were still loudly talking over each other, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Robert slowly pass by, but then do a sharp u-turn back to the other side of the aisle.
“Hey!” I shouted.
The women immediately shut up.
“Maritza is having a baby and no one knows what they should do. If anyone has any helpful advice,” I emphasized the word “helpful,” “then I suggest you say it. Otherwise, we should probably try to keep her calm.”
One of the women raised her hand. “I heard that singing calms things down.”
“Then by all means,” I said.
I don’t know how they did it, but eventually the women decided on a song, TLC’s Waterfalls and sang the chorus about fifteen times. And it did calm Maritza down until her contractions kicked up again, and all I could think to do was instruct her to push.
“Don’t go chasing waterfalls,” they sang.
“Push, Maritza!” I said. “Push, push, push!”
The women turned into cheerleaders and started to chant. “Push, push, push!”
Three hours later, with twelve of us gathered around, I pulled Maritza’s baby boy out of her. He was a screamer, and we immediately wrapped him in a blanket, handing him off to his mother. At first, Martiza looked at it as if she held a swaddled bomb, but she slowly relaxed and beamed down at him. Unfortunately, all Rebecca could find was some gardening shears so we hacked at the umbilical cord until the kid was free.
Maritza was exhausted and the experience had drained her, so I let her pass out on that check stand while the rest of the women fawned over the baby. I was exhausted, so I collapsed onto the floor away from the mess.
Robert eventually came around to hold him. “What are we calling him?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “That should be the mother’s decision.”
He scowled slightly. “So we’re not calling him Robert Jr?”
“Ask her,” I said.
“I mean, the reason she’s here is because of me, so…”
Long story short, we called the baby Robert Jr.
The women and I were bonded now. Maritza’s birth episode drew us together, and finally, I was considered a hero, valued more than Robert the guru. I was a ringleader and giver of birth, now allowed to sit at the breakfast table, best of all, now my word meant more than Robert’s. Sort of like the time, years ago, when Robert’s assistant made a scene at the Christmas party and I drove her home. Two months later, I got negative comments on my performance reviews for having her being at my desk all the time.
One of the wives led a yoga session, which I was finally allowed to participate in, when Robert came and found me. He tapped me on the shoulder while I struggled to keep my balance during a warrior pose.
“Walk with me,” he said.
It took him a lap around the store to get his thoughts together. He frowned a lot while his open robe flared out, exposing everything.
“I have a dilemma,” he said. “And you need to make the decision on it.”
“Is it about that draft you’re undoubtedly feeling?” I asked and gestured toward his uncovered junk. “I can suggest a solution for that. Aisle 22?”
Robert waved it away. “No, no, no.”
“If this is about the smell coming from the far end of the store, I’m right there with you,” I said. “I’m not going to name names, but I will say I blame someone whose name rhymes with Joaquin.”
“Not that,” he said. “We’re running low on supplies.”
“Here?” I asked. “We just walked past an aisle that’s nothing but three-pound boxes of Splenda.”
“We can’t feed each other on Splenda and you know it,” he said. “Our customers are eating us out of house and home, and I suddenly realized it yesterday.”
“I was afraid of that,” I said. “I was trying to cut back by only offering customers Ritz crackers and hot mustard.”
“What about us?” he asked. “I’ve got a family to support now, but there’s too many of us. Is there another Costco or Sam’s that we can move our operation to?”
“I don’t know.” I sighed. “Maybe way across town, but it’s probably been decimated, and the trip on foot there might kill us all at this point.”
“I expect you to think these things through,” Robert said angrily. “You’re my employee. What do I pay you for?”
“Well, for one thing, you don’t,” I said.
“Yes, I do!” he exclaimed, gesticulating wildly. “Shelter! Food! Wisdom! The point is do you think any of my wives would be open to the idea of moving to another roaming family in exchange for their supplies?”
I rubbed my head. “That’s a terrible idea,” I said. “And now you’re just talking about human trafficking. That’s just cruel.”
“Shelter and food!” he said. “Shelter and food! And it’s not cruel. You can’t argue with my generosity. Robert Jr is going to grow up and have all this to look after, and you better hope he keeps you on the payroll. Otherwise I don’t know what you’re going to do.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” I said. “And just like before, working for you now is just the same as working for you then—I’m just here until I can find something better.”
I stormed off, angry, although part of me was really hoping he’d follow me and apologize.
“So quit then!” he called out after me. “Just run away and quit! I’d like to see how well you do on your own.”
“Maybe I will!” I yelled. “At least I know to put on underwear every day!”
At this point, any self-respecting woman would have probably marched out and redeemed her independence in the wild, but the truth was, I was really scared to. I didn’t want to be out there. This new world frightened me with its new barbaric practices, and there was no telling what human-sized monster waited at the next mile to kill you or steal your Wheat Thins. So I stormed to the other side of the store, hoping that Robert would find me, apologize and tell me that I was the best employee he’d ever had. Instead, one of the girls came and found me while I was laying three shelves up in the electronics department, next to some Blu-ray players.
“Hey,” she said in her mousy voice. “The girls want you to know that some of us got a can of soup for lunch and some of us didn’t.”
“Take Joaquin’s,” I said.
Then Rebecca came and found me.
“Robert’s looking for you,” she snapped.
“Tell him I’m not here.”
She seemed confused, folded her arms and gave it some thought. “But you are here. Where would you go?”
“I just don’t want to talk—” I started. “Oh, forget it.”
I got out of my steel cubby and then followed her. She gave me a sidelong glare.
“I like you, which I didn’t want to do,” she said. “But don’t be Robert’s wife.”
I started to giggle like a fourteen year old. I don’t know why.
“Um,” I said. ”Don’t worry about it.”
“It’s just,” she said. “We’ve been married for so long now—”
“Two months?” I asked. “Three weeks? A week and a half?”
“—and I see how he talks to you and how he looks at you. Like he genuinely likes you. He doesn’t come to me with things. He doesn’t complain about his other wives to me like he does you.”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” I said. “I’ll be here for a while.”
She took me to Robert’s office, which was a set of kids’ bunk beds. He now sat cross-legged on the top one.