“Your mother had a bad delivery,” Walt said. “She lost too much blood. They kept her in the hospital in Rochester for three weeks. I drove back and forth every day. Ninety miles each way. You were in the nursery there. Then on March 21, she died. And they handed you to me and sent me home.”
He looked down at his hands.
“I was thirty-four years old. I had a hundred and ten head of dairy cattle. I had to milk at four-thirty in the morning and four-thirty at night. I had no family. Your grandparents were both gone. Your mother’s people were in Montana. I had nobody.”
“I didn’t know how to take care of a baby. I didn’t know how to change a diaper. I didn’t know how warm the bottle was supposed to be. I didn’t know anything.”
He was quiet a moment.
“The first week, I tried to do it all myself. You screamed day and night. I didn’t sleep. I fell asleep milking. I almost got kicked in the head by a cow on the fifth day because I passed out on the stool. I didn’t know what I was going to do.”
“On the eighth day, I put you in the truck and drove into town because I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t have a plan. I just couldn’t stand to be in that house anymore. I came here. To this café. Because it was the only place open at six in the morning.”
He looked at my mother.
“And I sat in this booth. With you in a car seat on the table. Screaming. And I put my face in my hands. In front of everybody.”
My mother was looking at the table.
“And this girl came over,” Walt said. “Twenty-one years old. Pink uniform. She’d been working here three weeks. I didn’t know her. I’d never seen her.”
“And she didn’t say anything to me. She just picked you up out of that car seat.”
Craig was staring at my mother.
“She picked you up and put you on her shoulder and walked you up and down the aisle between the booths. And you stopped crying. In about two minutes. First time in a week.”
“Then she brought me two eggs over easy and rye toast and black coffee. And a bottle of warm milk for you. She’d gone back to the kitchen and warmed it up in a pan of water on the stove. I don’t know where she got the bottle.”
“I bought it,” my mother said quietly. “At the drugstore. On my break. I saw you come in the day before, too. You didn’t stay. You just sat in your truck in the parking lot for an hour with the baby crying. I figured you’d be back.”
Walt looked at her.
“You never told me that.”
“You never asked.”
Walt was quiet for a long time.
“I came back the next day,” he said to his son. “And the next. Every morning after milking. Six-fifteen. For two years.”
“Every single morning, Darlene would take you out of your car seat while I ate. She’d feed you your bottle. She’d burp you. She’d walk you up and down the aisle between her tables. She’d sing to you. Some mornings, she’d sit in this booth and hold you while I put my head down on the table and slept for twenty minutes. Because it was the only twenty minutes I got.”
“She changed your diapers in the bathroom back there. She taught me how. She taught me how warm the bottle should be. She taught me how to tell if you had a fever. She taught me to put you on your back to sleep, which nobody did back then. She’d read about it somewhere.”
“When you got your first tooth, she noticed it before I did. When you said your first word, it was in this booth.”
Craig was very still.
“What was it?” he said.
Walt looked at my mother.
My mother looked at the table.
“Dar,” she said quietly. “You couldn’t say Darlene. You said Dar.”
Ethan Blake is a skilled Creative Content Specialist with a talent for crafting engaging and thought-provoking narratives. With a strong background in storytelling and digital content creation, Ethan brings a unique perspective to his role at TheArchivists, where he curates and produces captivating content for a global audience.
Ethan holds a degree in Communications from Zurich University, where he developed his expertise in storytelling, media strategy, and audience engagement. Known for his ability to blend creativity with analytical precision, he excels at creating content that not only entertains but also connects deeply with readers.
At TheArchivists, Ethan specializes in uncovering compelling stories that reflect a wide range of human experiences. His work is celebrated for its authenticity, creativity, and ability to spark meaningful conversations, earning him recognition among peers and readers alike.
Passionate about the art of storytelling, Ethan enjoys exploring themes of culture, history, and personal growth, aiming to inspire and inform with every piece he creates. Dedicated to making a lasting impact, Ethan continues to push boundaries in the ever-evolving world of digital content.