Page 95 of Not How I Saw That Going

“Which floor, dear?” the woman asks as I lead her to the elevator. I’ve never seen her here before, and based on her beautiful white blazer and diamond necklace, she could afford to live somewhere much nicer than this. She must be visiting someone nearby.

“Three,” I say.

Crew nestles into my shoulder and I lean back against the wall. I don’t take the elevator often. Something about being stuck in a box with a kid who sometimes screams and wets his pants is rarely appealing.

“He’s beautiful,” the woman says, focusing on Crew. “He looks so much like…” She sniffs and I notice her blue eyes getting watery. “You, of course.”

“Thank you,” I say. “I kind of like him.”

“Is his head okay?” she asks.

I brush a finger over the faded green and yellow bruise. The stitches came out yesterday, so it looks much better than before, but it still breaks my heart to see the scar.

“Yeah, he crashed into the coffee table last week, but he’s okay now.”

“Little ones are so resilient.” She nods. “But they can sure scare their mamas. It probably hurt you more than him.”

I sigh. “You can say that again.”

“That age is so fun, though. I have four kids. I remember those days like they were yesterday.“

“It is. Most of the time.” I smile. “It might be a little bit more fun if I could keep any room in my apartment clean for longer than five minutes.”

“Don’t worry about the messes; it means they’re learning and having fun. They grow up too fast, and one day you’ll find yourself with no mess at all to clean.”

I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. “I’ve never thought about it that way.”

“Enjoy every moment, dear. Don’t wish this time away.”

“I’ll try.” I’m well aware that time is a thief. I wasted many nights of sleep going down memory lane and crying over how big my baby has grown.

Sometimes I’m not sure if time is really on our side or not.

The elevator stops and we get out. It only takes a few steps down the hall to realize something is wrong. Out of place, anyway. There’s a giant box in front of my door. So big, I’m not sure it will fit inside.

“Oh dear, what did you order?” the woman asks as I try to wriggle between the door and the box.

“Nothing,” I say with a grunt, barely managing to slide through. I lay Crew in his bed and return to the front door. The woman has deposited my groceries on the table and is back in the hall, studying the box, probably measuring it with her eyes to see if it will fit.

“How do you suppose we get this in?” she asks, still staring at the box that reads fragile. Did the landlord finally get me a new fridge?

“Maybe we should leave it.” I investigate the package. It’s not addressed to my landlord.

“To Fires and Frostys, may all your dreams come true,” I read half to myself and half to the woman.

“Fires and Frostys?” the woman muses. “My husband showed me something the other day…” She turns to me, eyes wide. “That’s you? The girl from the internet?”

I grimace. “Yeah, I’m Lyndi. That video was a mistake. My son posted it somehow.”

“Well, it’s good to officially meet you.” The woman chuckles. “I’m Lisa.” Her smile is so wide and almost familiar.

Have I met her before?

“Let’s get your box inside,” she says, turning away before I dare ask.

We start by trying to push it through the opening, but it’s about an inch too wide for the frame. How did they get it into the building?

We twist and shimmy it. Nothing.