A SUCKING NOISE TOLD LIZZIE he’d finished the bottle. She hugged him close and headed for the kitchen, her hand patting his back hard enough to burp him.
“Let’s find you some num nums.” Lizzie found the baby food in the cupboard. She packed the jars into the diaper bag, along with some formula. She tore open a new bag of teething biscuits and offered him one. It ought to taste like manna from heaven after cat food. His hand shot in and tore it from her grasp, his sharp little teeth grinding on it with zeal.
“Sebastian. Sebastian Jones.” Zach called from another room.
“Sebastian?” She found a binky in the dish drying rack and added that to the diaper bag.
Zach came in carrying a framed certificate with footprints. “I like Sebastian.”
“How do you make it short? Seb? Bast? Bastian?” Lizzie balanced both baby and diaper bag, one in each arm. She was ready to get out of this place. “Has he got a middle name?”
“Antonio.”
“Tony. Does he look like a Tony to you?”
“I think you’re overthinking this.”
“Sebastian Antonio Jones. SAJ.”
Zach give her a ‘what the hell are you talking about’ look. “Sad-ge?” He said, sounding it out.
“S. A. J. Saj.” Lizzie grinned as the baby smiled back. “I like it.”
“Fine,” Zach agreed. “Saj it is. Let’s get Saj out of here.”
“Two more things. I’m going to find him something from his parents, and we need a car seat. Can you find it?”
Zach shrugged. “All right. Then we go.”
She found a photo on the mantel of two young parents, well-dressed, like they were at a wedding. She tucked it into the diaper bag and went down the hall.
The room on the opposite side of the wall was the parents’ bedroom—relatively neat, but cluttered. Lots of little knick knacks covered the shelves. In the nightstand drawer she found a Bible inscribed to Josephine Marie Lamb. It had a lovely golden bookmark with a stylized Claddagh, hands and heart like the Irish wedding ring. She slid the Bible in next to the photo.
Saj had gone quiet in her arms.
“We’ll come back later, Saj,” she said, hoisting the bag onto her shoulder again.
Lizzie wiped away the moist remains of the biscuit from his mouth. “It’s gonna be all right. Sissie’s got you.”
“Sss...sss.”
“Yes. Sissie Lizzie.” She held him close. “You lucky little boy.”
Outside the house she found Zach fighting with a car seat. “I can’t figure out how to get the fucking thing attached.”
Lizzie chuckled. “I’ll get it.” She handed Saj to Zach.
Zach looked skeptical, but took the little boy. “Hey, little guy.”
Lizzie had the car seat installed in moments, but getting Saj in his car seat was a bit of a fight. “Come on, Saj,” Lizzie pleaded. “It’s only a few blocks.”
“You could just hold him in your lap,” Zach said.
“No. You need to be firm with kids.” Her mom had always caved, or resorted to bribery and threats. She wasn’t her mom. “Here we go, Saj.” She pressed him gently in and pulled the t-straps over his head. He finally stopped arching his back and she snapped the clasp between his legs. “All right. Let’s go home.”
* * *
A bath with a bag of oatmeal, a liberal covering of ointment, and another bottle later Saj was starting to perk up. He wasn’t quite so solemn and serious and had even started to smile and laugh like a baby should. Lizzie lay down with him on her mom’s unmade bed and Zach brought her a sandwich.
“He seems fine,” Zach said.
“Yeah. He’s got food and warmth, friends.”
“Counts for a lot.”
“Yeah. How many others might be out there? I feel powerless.” Saj stopped sucking when the anger came into her voice. “Sorry, little guy.”
Zach sighed. “Can’t save everybody. Nobody expects you to.”
“What are we still here for anyway?” A song tickled at her memory “We’re all here," she sang softly to Saj. Then she spoke with a shiver. “‘cause we’re not all there.”