Not this time.
Her mother arrived an hour later, still wearing her work uniform. She rushed into the apartment, looked at the officers, the paramedics, the neighbors, and then at Maya sitting on the floor.
Her voice came out quietly.
“Where is he?”
No one answered.
Mrs. Linda gently touched her arm.
“Don’t go in.”
That was when Maya’s mother understood.
She turned toward her daughter, trembling.
“What did you do?”
Maya crawled toward her.
“Mom, I just needed a break.”
Her mother stared at her.
“A break?” she repeated. “You left a newborn alone for three days and you call that a break?”
“I wasn’t ready,” Maya sobbed.
Her mother’s tears fell, but her voice hardened.
“Then you should have left him with someone who was.”
Those words broke Maya.
Because they were true.
She had choices.
She could have called her mother.
