Alice waved a hand dismissively, nearly falling over. “You know how many kids are in the system? Nobody wants ’em. Let ’em take ’em, it’d be easier for me.”
She sat back down and poured something from a bottle into a chipped mug. Her hand was shaking violently. Sarah was speechless.
She tried to imagine how Nathan had survived here, caring for an infant while his mother was in a drunken stupor. Alice suddenly looked up, her eyes clearing for a second. “Why are you here in your fancy clothes?” She looked at Sarah’s neat outfit and leather boots.
“You want to buy the kid?” “His name is Ben,” Nathan whispered, but his mother ignored him. “I’m serious,” she said, her voice turning business-like in the middle of the rot.
“He cries all night, I don’t have any milk, and formula is too expensive. You look like you got money, a house. Take him. I won’t charge much.”
Sarah felt sick. The horror and rage made it hard to breathe. This woman was offering to sell her son like a piece of used furniture.
“Are you… are you insane?” Sarah’s voice was a whisper. “This is your child. Your own flesh and blood.” Alice shrugged, taking a drink.
“So? I can’t feed him. If the state takes him, he goes to a group home. You look like a decent lady, not a junkie.”
She laughed again. “Think of it as a rescue mission.” Sarah realized then that Alice had fallen into a pit so deep that even the most basic human instincts had vanished.
She looked at Nathan, who stood there with a look of profound shame. A child should never have to be ashamed of his mother. Sarah’s mind raced: call the police now? Take them by force?
But she knew the system. If she called the police, the boys would be snatched away and likely separated. Nathan’s greatest fear would come true. “I…” Sarah swallowed hard.
“I can come back in two days. I’ll bring some money. But you have to sign papers. A formal relinquishment.”
Alice perked up, the greed visible in her eyes. “How much?” She leaned forward. “Two hundred dollars,” Sarah said, naming the cash she had in her purse.
“I can give you a deposit now.” “Make it five hundred,” Alice rasped. “Two hundred,” Sarah stood firm.
“And I won’t call the police about the neglect.” It was a bluff, but Alice bought it.
“Fine,” she said, waving a hand. “Give me the paper.” Sarah pulled a notepad and pen from her bag.
Alice scrawled a few lines—a receipt for the money and a promise to sign over her rights. Sarah didn’t know if it would hold up in court, but it was a start. She laid the bills on the table.
Alice grabbed them with a speed that was terrifying. “Come back in two days,” she said, already focused on the money. “Bring the rest. And don’t try to screw me, I’m still the mother.”
Sarah felt a wave of revulsion. “Nathan,” she said, turning to the boy, “get your things. You’re coming with us. I’m taking care of you and your brother.”
The boy looked at his mother, but Alice just waved him off. “Go on, one less mouth to feed.” Nathan vanished into the back and returned a minute later with a tattered backpack.
Sarah heard a soft clink—toys for his brother. The last things they owned. “We’re leaving,” Sarah said, mostly to herself. They walked out, and Nathan closed the door gently.
Sarah saw his fingers trembling. Even this hellhole was the only home he’d ever known. “It’s going to be okay,” she said as they reached the car. “I promise.”
Nathan nodded, but he didn’t speak. He looked like someone who had learned that promises are just words adults use before they leave.
As they drove away, Sarah took a deep breath of the fresh air. But her heart was pounding. What had she done? She’d just made a deal with a desperate woman to “buy” a child.
Should she go to the police? CPS? What about Nathan, who was terrified of being separated from Ben? Her head said one thing, her heart another.
She remembered her own loneliness after Tom left, the empty rooms, the silence. She remembered her promise to adopt. And now, she was standing at the edge of a decision that would change everything.
The warmth of Ben sleeping in the back and Nathan’s small hand on the armrest felt like a bridge to a new life. “Let’s go home,” she said. And for the first time, the word “home” felt like it meant something.
The night stretched on, the minutes ticking by like a slow leak. Sarah sat in her kitchen, clutching a cold cup of tea.
The children were asleep: Ben in his basket, Nathan on the sofa, curled up so small he barely made a dent in the cushions. The image of Alice’s face—gray, bloated, and indifferent—was burned into her mind.
How could a mother do that? But a darker question haunted her: wasn’t this what she wanted? Hadn’t she been looking for a way to be a mother? Was she taking advantage of a tragedy to get what nature had denied her?
Her thoughts circled like a hawk. Calling the police meant losing control. It meant putting the boys into a machine that didn’t care about their bond.
Nathan and Ben would be split up. Nathan, an eight-year-old with trauma, would be hard to place. Ben, a healthy infant, would be gone in a heartbeat. Not calling the police meant she was technically part of an illegal transaction.
And what if Alice wanted more money later? What if she started blackmailing her? Near dawn, Sarah made her choice.
“Nathan, wake up,” she said, gently shaking his shoulder. “We need to talk.”
He was awake instantly. No grogginess, just alertness. “Are we going back?”
There was no surprise in his voice, just a flat acceptance. He expected the worst. Good things always ended; he knew that.
Sarah sat on the edge of the sofa. “I have to call the authorities, Nathan,” she said, her voice cracking. “What happened to you is a crime. And your mom… she needs help. She’s sick.”
The boy’s face turned to stone. “They’ll take Ben,” he said. “And I’ll go to a home. I know how it works. A kid at school told me. They split him and his sister up.”
Sarah felt a physical pain in her chest. “I want to…” She hesitated. “I want to apply to be your legal guardian. Both of you. But we have to do it the right way. We can’t lie to the system.”
He looked at her, searching for the catch. “Do you promise?” he asked. “Promise we stay together?”
Sarah wanted to say “yes” immediately. But she couldn’t lie to him. “I promise I will do everything in my power,” she said slowly.
“I will fight for both of you.” Nathan nodded.
There was no hug, no cheering—just that small nod. But Sarah felt the shift. A tiny thread of trust had been spun.
The police station smelled of industrial cleaner and stale coffee. The desk sergeant, a tired-looking man, looked up at Sarah. “I need to…” she started.
“I need to report a case of child endangerment.” The sergeant sighed, as if he’d heard it a thousand times. “Do you have evidence?”
“I saw it myself,” Sarah said, her voice gaining strength. “The children were abandoned and starving. The mother is intoxicated, and the apartment…”
She remembered the smell. “It’s unlivable. And she… she tried to sell the baby to me.”
The sergeant froze. He put down his pen. “Wait. Start from the beginning,” he said, his tone changing.
“Sell the baby?” Sarah nodded, her throat tight. “Do you have proof?”
She felt the note in her bag but didn’t pull it out yet. That note could implicate her too. “I was there,” she said.
“I can testify.” He sighed. “I’ll call a detective and CPS. We’ll need to send someone to that address. If it’s as bad as you say, the kids go into emergency custody.”
“And then what?” Sarah asked.
“Then they go to a shelter or a foster home,” he said. “Until a judge decides.”
“What if…” Sarah gripped her purse. “What if I want to be their foster parent?”
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