She wasn’t staring at the woman anymore.
She was staring at the phone.
“Do you want this posted?” Karen asked. “Because that is where things like this end up.”
I was already planning the drive home when Sophie stood up.
That was when I felt the whole beach change. Heads turned. A couple stopped unpacking chairs. One boy stared at the phone in her hand instead of the water. My face burned so hot I thought I might cry.
I did not want a scene.
I wanted to feed my son and give my daughter one calm afternoon.
I was already planning the drive home when Sophie stood up.
She brushed sand off her knees and walked straight toward the woman.
“You keep talking about kids. Which one is yours?”
Then she stopped in front of the phone, looked up at her, and asked, very clearly,
“Where is your child?”
The woman blinked.
“Excuse me?”
Sophie did not move.
“Where is your child?” she asked again. “You keep talking about kids. Which one is yours?”
Sophie looked at the phone and then back at her face.
The woman looked around as if an answer might appear beside her.
“I don’t have one with me.”
Sophie looked at the phone and then back at her face.
“Then why are you telling my mom how to feed hers?”
The whole beach went quiet.
A grandmother sitting two umbrellas down lifted a hand toward Sophie.
The woman straightened and tried to recover.
“Sweetheart, come back to your mother,” she said.
Then she turned to the woman.
