Chapter 4: The Stroller and the Ghost of Lillian

Like Dad always said, ‘Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.’ Sometimes I wondered if I brought this all on myself by sticking around.

I told myself Natalie was to blame for my cheating—if she hadn’t been so overbearing, maybe things would’ve turned out different. But a tiny voice in my head wondered if I’d ever really tried. Still, I told myself I had no choice.

Around month five, after we’d bought almost everything, she realized we still needed a stroller. She made lists, circled pictures in the Buy Buy Baby catalog, and suddenly it was the only thing that mattered.

I tried to talk her into ordering online—set up her laptop, tried to convince her. No awkward in-person shopping, no chance of running into anyone from my past. But she insisted: “We’re getting the safest stroller. I need to check the wheels, the brakes, everything.” I didn’t dare argue. Her parents never let me forget I was marrying up. I just gritted my teeth and went along.

So, there I was, pushing a cart in a high-end baby store that smelled like new rubber and lavender, when I saw her—Lillian. Under the showroom lights, hair in a perfect ponytail, name tag on her shirt. For a second, I thought fate was screwing with me.

Lillian had dumped me and married some rich guy from out of state two months later. The whole Silver Hollow Facebook group knew about it. She became a rich lady overnight, living it up in Denver, shopping for designer purses. I never expected to see her working retail in our hometown.

But here she was, back in Silver Hollow, working the sales floor. Her smile was forced, her eyes tired. I kept my head down, trying not to make eye contact.

She helped Natalie test out a Bugaboo and an UPPAbaby, rattling off features like she was reading a script. Natalie couldn’t decide, debating the pros and cons of each brand while Lillian adjusted the brakes and reclined the seats.

At checkout, Lillian finally recognized me. Her hand froze over the register, eyes widening, and my heart pounded like it did at homecoming games in high school.

Natalie usually handled all the credit cards, but this time, I rushed forward, slapped my debit card on the counter, and said coolly, “I’ll pay.” I wanted Lillian to see I’d changed, that I was doing fine. Tossed my card down like it meant something, voice extra casual.

Lillian’s hand trembled as she picked up my card, a flicker of regret or surprise in her eyes. I acted like she was just another clerk, but inside, it was like swallowing glass I couldn’t spit back up.

Receipt in hand, I glanced at Natalie and complained, “Didn’t you say you wanted the best for the baby? Why’d you pick one that’s only fifteen hundred?” I waved the receipt, feigning disappointment.

Natalie stared at me like I’d grown a second head. She was used to me being frugal, not throwing money around.

Another clerk jumped in, chipper and rehearsed: “Sir, this is already the most expensive stroller in our store. The quality and comfort are absolutely guaranteed.”

I nodded, basking in the attention, feeling a weird sense of authority. I shrugged, “Geez, what kind of store did you pick? The most expensive stroller is only fifteen hundred bucks. Unbelievable.” I could feel Lillian’s eyes on me, and it made me puff up even more.

I waved my hand, “Forget it, let’s just go with this for now. If the baby isn’t comfortable later, we’ll just buy another one.” Natalie was bewildered, but I didn’t care. I was performing, for Lillian as much as anyone else.

With a flourish, I hit the unlock button on my BMW key. The car beeped outside. Sure, it was a used BMW, but compared to the beat-up trucks in the parking lot, I felt a flash of superiority.

Hands in my pockets, I swaggered out of the store, pretending not to recognize Lillian. But I knew in my heart it wouldn’t be long before she, who’d blocked me for years, would add me on Facebook again. I could already picture her friend request popping up—because I knew her patterns too well.