Published: 2025-08-14

It was the first time Sheila had to work overtime in years; she had no say on it, it was the way it was. Now, at 8:00 PM on a winter night, she had to go back home alone.

Sheila took her phone out of her purse and called Johnny, her eight-year-old son:

“Hello. Mom?” Said Johnny.
“Hi, baby. How are you?”
“I’m hungry. Where are you?”
“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. I had to stay late at work. Is the babysitter still there?”
“She left a while ago. I’m watching cartoons.”
“Just wait a little longer, baby. I’ll be there right away.”
“OK, Mom. Hurry up.”
“Love you, baby. Bye-bye.”

Sheila hung up the phone. It was late, dark, and her eight year-old son was home alone. She had to get home right away.

Maybe I can take a taxi — she thought — but after checking her purse, she realized she didn’t have enough. Little Johnny would have to wait a little longer. She’d have to take the bus.

Sheila walked down the dark avenue until she reached the bus stop. The cold breeze made her shiver, her hands were shaky, and her face turned red. She didn’t expect to be outside on a winter night; there was no reason to wear a coat and gloves that morning.

While waiting, Sheila called Marie, little Johnny’s babysitter.

“Hello?” Said Marie.
“Hi, Marie. It’s me, Sheila.”
“Oh, hi, Mrs. Smith. Is everything OK?”
“Yes, don’t worry. I’m on my way home now. I had to work until late today.”
“Oh, I see.”
“I was wondering if you could go back to my house and take care of Johnny until I get there.”
“I’d love to do that, Mrs. Smith, but I have to study for my finals.”
“Yeah, I get it. Don’t worry about it.”
“I made Johnny a pot of macaroni and cheese before leaving. He’s watching cartoons. He’s OK.”
“Yes, I know. Thanks for your hard work, Marie.”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Smith. Feel free to call me if you need anything else.”

Marie hung up the phone.

Nothing had changed, Little Johnny was still home alone, and Sheila was still waiting for the bus. Telling her not to worry was useless, she is mother, that what mothers do.

Sheila started to nervously tap her foot. Her mind would run wild unless she stayed busy.

Ten minutes passed, and the bus was nowhere to be seen. Sheila's worries grew bigger and bigger. What is my baby doing now? — She thought — Is he cold? Is he scared? Is he lonely? Her thoughts started to overwhelm her. She took his phone and dialed a number she didn’t have among her contacts, but still knew by heart.

“Hello.” Said a man.
“It’s me.” Said Sheila.
“Sheila?”

She didn’t answer.

“Why are you calling me?” Said the man.
“It’s Johnny.”
“What happened to him?”
“Nothing happened to him. He’s home alone. Could you please go home and check on him?”
“Now you want me to go home.”

He paused for an answer, but Sheila didn’t give him one.

“Why is he home alone?”
“I’m on my way home now.”
“It’s almost 9:00 PM. Why aren’t you home?”
“I had to work overtime today.”
“How convenient.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Whatever you want it to.”
“Look, I don’t have to explain myself to the likes of you; this is not about me. I’m asking you to go check on Johnny. Now, will you do it or not?”

The man hung up.

Sheila crumpled to the ground and started crying. How dare he say those things to me? — She mumbled to herself when a man who also waited at the bus stop approached her.

“Are you alright, miss?”

Sheila took a deep breath and stood up, politely declining the man’s offer to help her.

“Thank you,” she said, “It’s my ankle, I twisted it some time ago, and sometimes it hurts.”
“Oh, I see.” Said the man.

He took a good look at Sheila and added.

“You know, you shouldn’t wear high heels. With that ankle of yours and that, you may hurt yourself again.”

Sheila smiled and thanked him, and the conversation died out.

A pair of bright yellow lights illuminated the sidewalk where Sheila waited. The waiting was over, the bus had arrived. Sheila ran to it and was the first to get in.

The bus was mostly empty. Sheila took a seat near a window and let out a sigh of relief. I’m coming, baby, just a little longer — she thought.

The man who waited with her looked at her for a second, as if thinking of keeping her company during the trip, but ultimately walked to the rear of the bus and sat by himself.

Sheila took her phone out and called Johnny. The phone rang once, twice, three times, but nobody answered. Maybe he didn’t hear it because of the TV — she thought. Sheila called him again, and again it rang once, twice, three times, but nobody answered. Sheila started to worry again. Has something happened to my baby — she thought.

Sheila spent the rest of the trip trying to contact her son to no avail. What if turned the stove on and… What if he was taking a bath and… What if someone got in the house and… A million thoughts invaded her head. The bus couldn’t go fast enough, and waiting at red lights seemed eternal.

Sheila rang the bell, and the bus stopped; it was her stop. She got out of the bus and tried to call her son once again. “Have a good night, Ms.” someone said to her from behind. It was the man from the bus stop. It startled her. Is he following me? — She thought.

She started walking home, hurrying her pace, while trying to call her son. No luck yet again; she couldn’t get through. She went from walking to running until she arrived home.

The door was unlocked, the TV turned on, and the pot of macaroni lying over the stove, but there was no sign of little Johnny. She called his name, but he didn’t answer. She entered the bathroom, and he wasn’t there. She quickly went up the stairs but fell; the heel of her right shoe broke. She stood up and entered little Johnny’s room. She stood in the doorway and looked around. The kid was lying in bed, tucked in, soundly sleeping. She approached him and kissed him on the forehead.

While leaving the room, she couldn’t help but notice a faint scent in the air. She paused for a moment and said:

“I know this perfume.”

THE END.