I Left My Son with My Ex for Just One Day, but When I Found Him Alone, Crying at the Bus Stop, I Realized Something Was Terribly Wrong – Story of the Day

I knew something was seriously wrong when I noticed my young son sitting by himself at the bus stop, sobbing and holding onto his backpack. However, I had no idea how profound the truth would be.

Alabama heat is said to only exist in July, yet it was always with me—under my shirt collar, within my shoes, and around my anxieties.

I had gray roots, was forty-six, and survived on cheap mascara and coffee from the petrol station. My child liked the name “sparkles,” so I called it that.

I worked mornings at the diner and nights cleaning offices, and every time a chair scraped or a mop bucket creaked, I regarded it as progress toward rent and peanut-butter sandwiches.

That morning, Noah squinted at my hair like a tiny inspector and said, “Mom, your sparkles are showing.”

“Shrewd sparkles,” I smiled. “Come on, boots.”

Six-year-old and all elbows, he beat his little boots in the manner of boys who are primarily composed of hope.

My figure used to make me “tired to look at,” according to my ex. I was throwing up in between grocery aisles and swollen with Noah at the time.

Travis once declared his desire for a life filled with patios, music, and women who didn’t ask for help

doing the laundry. He desired to “live, not exist.” I wanted an oscillating fan and pregnancy vitamins.

Years have passed since then. Finally, the only music I heard was the fryer beeping at the diner. Travis’ name appeared on the screen as my phone buzzed on the counter.

On the porch, where the spider plant hangs crookedly, I responded.

“Are you okay with taking Noah after school?”

As though the favor cost blood, he let out a sigh. “My mother has been bugging me. She desires to see him. I have plans at six, but I will stop by at three thirty.

Plans—that is, a woman holding a ring light? Plans—that is, my life. Avoid being late.

My sleeve was pulled by Noah. “Is Daddy pleasant today?”
“He’s… punctual,” I said. “He doesn’t know how to be nice; you are.”

At precisely 3:30, Travis’ truck arrived. Even though the sun had stopped shining, he leaned across the sofa while wearing sunglasses.

I said, “Buckle him good.”

“Don’t begin.”

I kissed Noah’s forehead through the window. Travis sped away, revving like an adolescent.

I still occasionally thought of him as the summertime-grinding boy with the guitar. I saw a stranger most of the time who measured women in decibels and inches.

I texted Travis, “Off now,” after finishing my mopping at the office at six o’clock. I’m on my way.
No response. I made a call. Directly to voicemail.

I was headed to pick up Noah ten minutes later. I looked to my right and froze when the light near the bus stop turned red. A tiny child sat on the seat, knees pulled up, cheeks smeared with tears. My son.

“Noah!”

“Mom?”

My knees nearly failed me as I ran so quickly. “Baby, what are you doin’ here? Where is your father?

“He went out.”

“Left, what do you mean?”

“He said Grandma was comin’. “Sit here until she gets me,” he said.

I looked around and saw a broken Coke machine, the nighttime murmur of crickets, and no car or grandmother. My heart was thumping so hard I thought he could hear it.

“Oh, honey.” I felt his icy hands as I drew him into my arms. “How long’ve you been sittin’ here?”

He took a whiff. “A long time. I consumed my snack. I was given water by the store employee.
Travis should have received a one-way trip to jail.

“Did Daddy say where he was goin’?”

He received a call. Someone was waiting for him, he claimed.

For half a second, I closed my eyes, allowing the heat to flow to my face.

“All right. All right. You’re safe now, sweetheart.”

I picked up his backpack, wiped his cheeks with my sleeve, and escorted him to the vehicle. I dropped the keys twice because my hands were shaking so much.

I was thinking about my young kid sitting by himself on that bench. Travis had said he will improve.

And this? Was this what he considered better? Was his mother aware about this? Was she truly simply forgetting?

No. I wasn’t going sit and guess. Reaching for my phone, I called Mrs. Carter. It rang twice but got no response. I gave it another go. Nothing. Alright. I would knock on her door myself if she didn’t answer.

I backed out of the driveway, the rage pulsing through my veins.

How could either of them have allowed this to occur? Given that child’s appearance, how could anyone believe he would be alright for a few hours?

My hands were quivering with anger by the time I drove onto her street. This was going to be her

responsibility. They were both. Before I could even think, I parked directly in front of her mailbox,

slammed the door, and stomped up the stairs.

And I was prepared when the porch light came on.

Noah sprinted forward and rapped. “Grandma!”

With her hair in curlers and wearing a pink robe, she appeared as the door creaked open.

“Oh my God,” she exclaimed. “Why are you all here at this hour?”

“I came to take up Noah just now. According to Travis, you were meant to pick him up from the bus stop.

I feared her eyebrows would shoot off since they sprang up so quickly. “Pardon me? The bus stop?

Honey, I ain’t heard a word about babysittin’ tonight. Travis didn’t call.
“You’re on your way,” he informed Noah.

“Well, the only place I was goin’ was from my recliner to the fridge.” Then she let out a big, soul-shaking grandmother sigh. “Now what has that boy done?”

Noah was left alone by him. For five hours! said you would arrive.

Her gaze expanded. “Have mercy, Lord.”

“I told him one day that karma was going to chew him up and spit him out,” she mumbled, grabbing her phone off the counter. He always “borrows” money to make up missed payments to you. Guess where it ends up instead.”

“It’s been five years since I received a single cent in alimony from him.”

“I had a tracker installed in his truck the last time he pulled something similar. I explained that it was insurance. For the sake of my sanity.
She smirked, tapped the screen twice, and held up her phone. Did you see that my careless child is sitting pretty at the S-t Motel?

“You must be joking with me.”

“I’d have better punchlines if I were,” she remarked, reaching for her purse. You’re going. I’ll drive. You’re too angry to drive properly.

I lied and said, “I’m not mad.”

She chuckled briefly. “Yes, and my name is Miss Alabama.”

After ten minutes, we were in her ancient Buick, which had a scent similar to church newsletters and lavender. Noah had slept off in the rear seat. Mrs. Carter tapped the wheel with her fingernails.

I’ve tried raisin’ him twice, once as a boy and once as a man, you know. failed on both occasions.

“You didn’t fail,” I said. “He did.”

“I’d be harsher than you. That’s why your boy ended up doing well.

The S-t Motel, glowed in tacky red neon, was visible as we pulled off the main route. The front of Travis’ truck was parked crookedly.

Mrs. Carter smiled at that. “I located him.”
I let out a breath. “Now what?”
Her seatbelt was unbuckled. “Now, my love, we give him a small taste of what it’s like to live rather than just exist.”

Her pink robe billowed like a battle flag as she marched across the lot in her slippers before I could stop her.

I ran to catch up with her. She battered Room 14.

“Travis! Either you open this door or I’ll open it for you!

The lock swung.
A young woman, around twenty-two, was standing there with a baby in her arms as the door broke wide. We all remained silent for a moment. Against her shoulder, the youngster let out a tiny moan.

Blinking, Mrs. Carter said. “Jesus!”

The girl had a scared expression. “Please don’t shout. He simply dozed off.

I went cold. “Who are you?”
“My name is—uh—Katie. I… I didn’t think anyone would—”

Travis’s voice was low and scared, coming from within. “Katie, who is—”

Then he showed up, his face pallid, his hair disheveled. He glanced at me, then at his mother, and last at the infant.

Mrs. Carter muttered, “Oh, Lord.” “Don’t tell me.”

He wiped his face with his hand. “It’s not what it appears to be.”

Katie gave the infant a closer embrace. “Don’t be angry with him, please. All he wanted to do was assist. His son is this. His other son, that is.

Mrs. Carter’s words became hardly audible. “Travis, you have another child?”

“She—Katie—was employed at the hardware shop once. After the divorce, that is. He inhaled nervously. “He has been ill, okay? breathing difficulties and a fever. After I picked up Noah, I received the call. I went into a panic. I forgot everything, including calling Mom. I simply drove.

“Drove,” said Mrs. Carter again. “And abandoned a crying child at a bus stop in order to save another.”

Red-eyed, he nodded once more. “I understand. I made a mistake.

I felt frightened. Katie doesn’t own a car, and he was burning up. I didn’t even check, but I assumed Mom would get Noah like she used to. I committed another error while attempting to correct the first.

The infant coughed softly and stirred. Katie whispered as she rocked him. There was a slight softening within me. I took a step forward and gazed at the child. His eyes were identical to Noah’s. The same mouth that is unyielding.

Mrs. Carter used her sleeve to wipe her eyes. “All right, have mercy, Lord. I believed that I was losing grandchildren rather than accumulating additional.

In a whisper, Travis said, “I apologize, Mom.”

Her chuckle was broken. “Sorry, boy, won’t do. But perhaps sincerity will.

I let out a slow breath. “Travis, you ought to have informed us. You had the option to seek assistance. However, you continue to bury everything until it blows up.

“I understand. Noah didn’t want to believe that I was a monster.

“Then quit acting like one,” Mrs. Carter remarked sternly.

There was silence for a long time. The infant’s breathing stabilized.

At last, I whispered, “We’re heading home.” For this one, you must do what is necessary, but remember the other boy who is still waiting for you.

“I refuse to.”

My arm was touched by Mrs. Carter. “Come on, my love.”

The air outside felt cooler, as though the night had finally blown over it. Clinging to his toy car, Noah napped in the back seat.

“I never thought I’d say it, but maybe this is what it takes for him to finally grow up,” Mrs. Carter remarked quietly as we drove away.

In the rearview mirror, I saw the motel vanish. “Hopefully, his children won’t suffer as a result.”

She gave a small smile. “Darling, you’re stronger than you realize.”

I turned to face Noah again. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I simply ran out of options.

With the first glimmer of dawn peeking over the horizon, the road ahead was silent and dark. And I experienced what seemed nearly like tranquility for the first time that evening.