The little girl gets on the bus with her mother. They ride in silence. She doesn't know where they are going, but she has learned not to ask questions.
The bus passes green fields and yellow-brick buildings with low tile roofs. Water buffaloes stand as still as statues in the grass. After a while, the buildings grow taller and closer together. Clusters of people on bicycles pass the bus as it weaves through the heavy traffic.
The bus stops at a corner and the girl follows her mother out the door. They walk down the crowded streets. The mother stops at a street vendor and buys the girl a paper cup of ice cream. They walk some more.
The girl finishes her ice cream. Her mother points at the sidewalk and says, Stay here, and I will go get you another. The girl nods and does as she's told. The woman turns and quickly walks back the way they just came.
The little girl waits for her mother to return. People come and go, but she does not see her mother. Has it been minutes or hours? She only knows that it has been a long time. The street lights come on. She begins to cry. Passers-by look at her curiously but no one stops to help. She sits down on the sidewalk. A car stops and a man leans out the window. You look lost, he says. Do you want to come home with me? She shakes her head no. I'll call the police, he says, and drives away. She sits with her head bowed, watching the tears drop in her lap.
*****
Seven years later, I pick her up from dance class and forget that her younger sister is still there playing on the playground. We get home and my husband reminds me that I left someone behind. We have to turn around and go back. On the drive home, she tells her sister, "Now you know how I felt when my mom left me somewhere. Except she never came back." There's no bitterness in her voice. She's just stating facts.
