#but daycare was the reason why marilyn came out somewhat adjusted

[auroras-blend]

What Matters

Summary: POV from Patience. Starring baby Marilyn, Emilie Marks, and a fishwife.

Patience let out a frustrated huff as she struggled to strap Marilyn into her stroller, who was determined to wail throughout the entire process. “You do this every time,” she snapped, not that her daughter could understand her.

Marilyn always acted as if this was a brand new terrifying experience. “Stop being so damn dramatic,” she huffed as she finally clasped the buckles together.

Her daughter still continued to wail until Patience not so softly popped a pacifier in her mouth, which silenced her quite quickly. She pulled a white lamb plush from the car and gave it to her daughter who clasped onto it with a desperate fervor. It was Marilyn’s very favorite toy, courtesy of the pastor’s wife. She seemed content to just stare at it rather than play with it, which was strange to Patience but it kept the infant distracted, and really, that was all that mattered. She brushed the strands of hair out of her face that had fallen out of her harried bun before sighing and moving to push the stroller towards the store.

Everyone knew everyone and their business in Summerfield, which was why trips to the grocery store always bothered Patience. Marilyn received soft looks and bright smiles whereas she received critical eyes and grimaces, but Patience couldn’t really bring herself to care. She entered the store, the temperature of her body already dropping as cool air blew in her face, a refreshing change from the scorching summer heat. The store already held a myriad of familiar faces, which completely defeated the purpose of coming in so early in the day and hoping to avoid the crowds. “Hello Miss Winslow,” the greeter smiled, “I hope you’re having a nice day today!”

“Just fine, thank you,” she said to be polite though no genuineness could be found in her tone.

She pushed past and immediately set her sights for the produce section, hoping to cool down further. Her green-eyed gaze remained focused on her task dead ahead because if she only looked forward, she could ignore the judgmental looks that several housewives were giving her. It had been about a year since she gave birth to Marilyn but the scandalous event of her birth and Patience’s status as a single mother and social pariah hadn’t faded. Summerfield residents, as friendly as they seemed, were dull people with dull lives who pretended otherwise and sought amusement from gossip. At the moment, Patience and Marilyn were their favorite topics. It seemed Patience was the only woman in town who didn’t hide her dissatisfaction with the fact that she had a repetitive, restricting, and overall mundane life that’s primary stressor came from motherhood. At least I’m honest.

She was unlikable to everyone except her daughter who looked at her with reverence and the occasional hurt when her affection for her mother wasn’t returned. Part of her felt bad because she did know deep down that Marilyn was not at fault, that she was unluckily and violently brought into this world to suffer a miserable existence with a miserable woman.

Marilyn had been nothing but pleasant if Patience were being honest, or as pleasant as a baby could be. Her birth had been quick and much easier than the first, and she had been a courteous five pounds that hadn’t torn apart her mother’s insides. She was easy to love, to everyone except the woman who mattered to her the most. Perhaps Marilyn had some instinct deep down to behave and be agreeable unless her mother decided that she finally had enough of her and do something terrible.

Patience rummaged through the fresh produce, something she hadn’t done in a long time. Without a vengeance to pursue, bridges to burn, and misery to face, she had more time to at least try and take care of herself. Or at least the illusion of caring for herself, as if she actually used the produce to cook instead of having it sit in her fridge for an eternity in favor of eating frozen meals and drinking a few too many glasses of wine or whiskey. She wasn't quite so picky these days.

It didn’t take long to cross most of the tasks off her list and lead herself to the most aggravating part of the store: the baby aisle. There was nothing wrong with the aisle in particular with the exception of her forced motherhood being thrown in her face and the condescending stares from the other mothers shopping for their brood. Nothing wrong at all, she thought bitterly. Thankfully when she arrived, no one was around which settled her nerves about picking out the necessary items for her daughter, specifically formula. It had been a swift decision for Patience to put Marilyn on a formula diet. Just the thought of her child pawing and nursing from her breast physically repulsed her; she had tried the first few days and then vowed to never do it again.

It would be, of course, an unacceptable decision to the other mothers of Summerfield and unfortunately for her, they were about to be privy to that information. Her luck at being the sole presence in the aisle didn’t last long and it just so happened to be when she was picking up the formula that Mrs. Coombs decided to make an appearance and let out a fake laugh, “Patience! How funny to run into you here!”

Funny? I have a damn baby. She pressed her lips into a tight smile, forcing herself to at least look polite. “Look at little Mary-,”

“Marilyn,” Patience corrected as she held the box tightly.

“Marilyn! An even better name. She’s gotten so big, the time just flies doesn’t it?”

Not fast enough. “Sure does,” she lied as she dumped several boxes into her shopping bag.

“She’s really turning into a beauty. She has your eyes, doesn’t she?” she smiled before it became tighter with malice, “Not your hair though…”

Patience could usually brush off the snide comments, but the reminder of the man who put that child inside her made her sick. “Did she get it from her father?”

Patience’s body tensed, her stomach began to roll. “Yes.”

Her reply was short and curt, and by God’s grace, Mrs. Coombs dropped the topic in favor of sending Patience a new criticism. “Oh, formula?” she asked as she stressed the word as if it were the vilest thing in existence, “Are you having trouble? Some women do. It came pretty easily to me, but my sister had to have a lactation consultant.”

The insinuation was there. Bitch. She refused to be ashamed for not letting her daughter nurse from her breasts. It wasn't as if Marilyn was suffering or lacking nourishment in any way, and it's no one's damn business. Patience’s smile turned smug. “Actually, I can but I’m choosing not to breastfeed.”

The disapproving and aghast frown on Mrs. Coombs face made it worth it. She knew she’d be the talk of the woman’s circle of friends, but just the sight of making the woman uncomfortable and being shamelessly confident with her decision made it worth it. Marilyn giggled behind her pacifier, amused by the face of the critical fishwife. “Oh really?” the woman gasped, “Well, there are more benefits if-.”

“How lovely to see you, ladies, here!”

Jesus Christ. Patience sighed and turned around to see Mrs. Marks. “Emilie!” cooed Mrs. Coombs who brushed past Patience and slightly knocked Marilyn’s stroller to the side.

Patience grabbed the stroller to prevent it from hitting the shelves, causing Marilyn to whine as she was jostled in her seat. The two women embraced as Patience ignored the pair, or at least tried to. “Fancy to see you in this aisle! Oh, does that mean there's happy news?” gasped Mrs. Coombs.

“Um...not yet,” she could hear Mrs. Marks say, pain and discomfort in her voice.

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll happen someday!”

“Yes, well, we’re praying that it does,” Mrs. Marks said tensely.

Why does she have so much trouble getting pregnant? I'd switch with her if I could. It seemed cosmically unfair that she was saddled with an unwanted child while the Marks failed in their desperate attempts to have one. There were many times where Patience entertained leaving Marilyn with them one day and never return. She'd be better off with anyone but me. However, whenever she was ready to put Marilyn in the car and drop her off, a pang of religious guilt consumed her. She's your atonement. “Why are you here then if-,”

“That’s not really your business, is it?” hissed Patience who had tired of hearing of her pester the woman.

Mrs. Coombs was a busy body who aggravated her to no end. Patience never truly made an effort to convince the woman of her politeness or that she liked her, but as the pastor's wife, it was Mrs. Marks job to do so. Politeness for Emilie Marks was mandatory, so if she couldn't tell Mrs. Coombs to fuck off then Patience would.

Grey eyes narrowed towards Patience. “Your tone isn’t appreciated.”

“Your questions aren’t appreciated,” Patience snapped, throwing a box of diapers into her bag.

“Now ladies-” Emilie tried to interject.

“Are you capable of being anything other than unpleasant?”

Mrs. Coombs volume wasn’t much louder but it upset Marilyn and sent her into a fit of tears. Great. “See what you did?” Patience huffed as she walked around to grab the pacifier from the floor.

“Are you really going to put that back in her mouth? You know, most mothers comfort their babies when they cry.”

Of course, at that moment, Marilyn began to wail louder. “Mrs. Coombs,” snapped Mrs. Marks, “You’re upsetting the child.”

Patience brushed the pacifier off and although she was tempted to push it back in between her daughter’s lips, she put it in a side compartment and unstrapped her baby. Shame had crept back into her body with the woman’s comment so she reluctantly took Marilyn out and settled her against her chest, patting her back and shushing her. Snot and tears began to stain her dress, and the loud wails pierced her ears until they were ringing. I hate this. I hate it. Stop fucking crying. Just stop. Just stop...Patience herself was starting to feel as miserable as her daughter who upon receiving physical comfort from her mother started to quiet down. It was always such a special treat for the baby that it immediately put her in a good mood.

By the time Marilyn’s cries turned into hiccups, Mrs. Coombs was gone. I don’t want to do this anymore. When Patience turned around, Mrs. Marks was still there helping put her items back into her basket. “You don’t have to-”

“No, it’s alright. I’m happy to,” Mrs. Marks said as she packed the items tightly.

“Thank you,” Patience said in relief.

Mrs. Marks attached the basket on the rack beneath Marilyn’s stroller. She didn’t hate Mrs. Marks. If she were honest with herself, she didn’t really know her or care to know her, but the woman had always been polite and gave her a genuine smile that was free of judgment. She leaves that to God. “Thank you for what you said,” the woman said quietly.

Patience resettled Marilyn on her hip. “Well it wasn’t any of her business,” she said frankly, “She’s too nosy for her own good.”

She found that description quite generous given that there were other adjectives she wanted to use that was inappropriate to say in front of a pastor’s wife. “Poor little girl,” she cooed.

Marilyn blinked tiredly. She was always tired after a big cry and would fall asleep quickly. A redeeming feature. “I see she still has the little lamb,” Emilie smiled and picked it up.

Marilyn made a grabbing motion and clutched it tightly in her chubby little hands. “She really likes it,” Patience noted.

Conversations about baby toys were never really what she pictured herself talking about in this stage of her life, or in any stage really. Motherhood may have been her reality but it was never a topic she wanted to discuss. “Thank you,” Patience added, “But we-,”

“Oh, I’ll leave you to your shopping, but it was lovely to see both of you. You and Marilyn, obviously,” she smiled, sending a veiled insult towards Mrs. Coombs but paused before she pushed her cart forward, “The church has a free nursery if you’d ever like to drop her off. We’re open from eight in the morning to five in the afternoon on weekdays. I run it and would be happy to look after her during the week.”

The news almost made Patience sob with relief. She had to return to work soon and had taken on a second job to get by, but neither made her stay past three. That meant she could have two hours, two blissful hours to myself on her workdays and a day off when she wasn't working. “Oh thank you,” she said with a watery voice.

“Of course. Like I said, I’d be happy to. She seems like such a sweet baby,” she smiled at Marilyn, “You can drop her off next Monday.”

“Next Monday,” Patience nodded as she plopped Marilyn back into her stroller, who thankfully was too tired to protest being buckled in.

With a last smile and farewell, Mrs. Marks disappeared down the next aisle. Patience took a shaky breath and finished her shopping as giddiness rose into her body at the thought of a break from her daughter. She’d have two hours to herself every day, and then an entire day off on Wednesday. She knew Marilyn wouldn’t like it at first but it’d be for the best. As she put Marilyn in the car, she said with a smile in her voice, “It’ll all work out.”

Whether it was to Marilyn or herself, she didn’t know. But that hardly mattered.