Ann Martin - Mary Anne And Too Many Babies

But one Friday, at the end of Modern Living class, Logan said to me, "Mary Anne, I'd really like for us to go out tonight. I hate to leave Sammie behind, but ... I don't know. I just want to go to a movie or something."

Considering how attached Logan had become to our daughter, this seemed like an especially nice idea. I think he was taking our

class project a little more seriously than anyone, except maybe Alan and Kristy. If I hadn't known better, I might have thought he cared more about Sammie than he did about me. So a movie sounded like a terrific idea, and I told him so. "Oh, Logan, awesome!" I exclaimed. "I can't wait. And don't worry about Sammie. I'll take care of everything."

"Great. I'll come to your house at six-thirty."

Ding-dong.

That evening, our doorbell rang promptly at six-thirty. Dad and Sharon were upstairs getting ready to go out to dinner. Dawn was baby-sitting for Haley and Matt Braddock.

I was standing at the front door holding Sammie in her basket.

When I let Logan inside, the first words out of his mouth were, "What's Sammie doing?" He took the basket from me.

"Sleeping?" I suggested.

"I mean, what's she doing here?"

"Coming with us," I answered. "We can't leave her alone."

"Didn't you get a baby-sitter?"

I shook my head. "Dad and Sharon are going out. Dawn's baby-sitting at the Brad-docks'. I didn't want to ask any of them to watch Sammie."

"Well, what about someone else? Claudia or someone?"

"Oh, Logan. Can't we just bring Sammie with us? We don't have time to find a sitter now. We'll miss the beginning of the movie."

"Bring an infant to the movie theater? No way."

But in the end, that was what we did.

I checked Sammie to make sure the identifying marks on her shell still showed up. Then I added a large scrap of flannel to her basket, since our movie theater begins using the air-conditioning around the middle of March, in order to keep the temperature at a pretty steady 45° year-round.

"When's she due for her next feeding?" Logan asked me, as we stood on a line stretching down the sidewalk.

"Right in the middle of the movie," I answered. "But that'll be okay. One of us will be holding her anyway."

"Yeah. One of us will."

Something in Logan's tone of voice made me glance at him and wonder exactly how our evening was going to go. But just then the doors to the theater opened, and we filed inside along with the rest of the crowd. I grew busy juggling Sammie, my pocketbook, and the extra sweaters I'd brought along. I forgot

what Logan had said. And how he'd said it.

"Are you hungry?" Logan asked me, as we walked through the lobby.

"Sort of. Are you?"

"Starving. I didn't eat dinner. What do you want?"

"A small popcorn and a small diet Coke."

"Okay." Logan stepped up to the counter and said to the woman, "One small popcorn, one giant popcorn, one small diet Coke, one large diet Coke, and a large box of Peanut M&M's, please."

Well, not only did all that food cost a fortune, but the two of us couldn't carry it. Not with Sammie and the sweaters. We had to get one of those cardboard boxes like you get on trains, and then sort of hobble into the theater and down a darkened aisle.

"If we were really married and really on a budget," I said to Logan, as we looked for seats, "we could probably have paid our electricity bill with the money we spent on food and movie tickets tonight."

"I know."

"Just think if we had to pay a baby-sitter, too."

"I guess you have to splurge sometime," said Logan, but he looked as if he weren't sure he meant that.

The theater was becoming crowded. Even

so, I whispered to Logan, "I think we're going to need three seats tonight. We have so much stuff."

Luckily we found a row consisting of three empty seats. It was way over on the side of the theater, and kind of close to the front, but at least we'd found what we needed. I eased myself into the middle seat, and Logan sat on the aisle. I set Sammie in the third seat, the one by the wall. But she didn't weigh enough to hold the seat down.

It flipped back up, trapping Sammie and her basket between the seat and the seat back. "Yikes!" I cried.

Logan saw what had happened, but he was holding that flimsy box full of spilly sodas and popcorn. He needed both hands to carry it. Even so, he nearly dropped it. "Mary Anne!" he hissed.

"I'm sorry," I said crossly. I dropped my armload of sweaters and grabbed the handle of Sammie's basket with one hand and the seat with the other. I pushed the seat down and gingerly lifted the basket.

Sammie was safe inside.

"She's okay," I said to Logan.

"I knew this wasn't a good idea," he replied. "Okay. Now hold Sammie."

"I can't. I mean, I can't hold her and the popcorn and the soda. Just a sec." I pulled

down the murderous seat again and placed the sweaters on it. "Do you want to give me your coat?" I asked Logan. (He actually likes the temperature in the movie theater.)

Logan put the tray of food on the floor, took off his coat, handed it to me, and picked up the food. Then I placed Sammie on Logan's coat, and he handed me my popcorn and soda. At last we were settled.

"Excuse me, is that seat taken?"

Logan and I glanced up. Standing at Logan's elbow was a tall man in a suit. He was looking at Sammie's seat with raised eyebrows.

"Well," said Logan.

"Well," I said.

The man checked his watch. "The movie's going to begin any minute now, and the theater is packed," he pointed out.

I thought about what might happen if I told the man the seat was occupied by an egg. The outcome didn't look good.

Logan must have been thinking the same thing, because he sighed and said, "No, it's not taken."

I gave Logan back his coat, which he sat on.

I put on one of the sweaters.

I sat on the others.

Then I put Sammie in my lap.

"Logan," I whispered as the lights began to

dim, "I can't hold Sammie and eat, too." (My food was on the floor.)

"Neither can I," Logan replied. "Plus, I have more food than you do."

"All right. I'm going to put Sammie's basket on the floor until I'm finished eating. She'll be okay there."

"Shhh!" hissed the man on the other side of me. He was the first person I had ever met who wanted to pay attention to the cartoon about not littering in the theater, and buying fresh popcorn at the concession stand, and being able to locate the exits in case of fire.

"Sorry," I replied.

"You can't put Sammie on the floor!" Logan whispered loudly.

"SHHH!"

"Sorry."

I put Sammie on the floor anyway. "She's right between my feet," I said to Logan. "If anyone takes her basket, I'll know about it."

"Excuse me," said the man, "are you two going to talk through the entire movie, or just this first portion?"

"Sorry," I said again.

But Logan said, "I think just this first portion." Only he said it so softly the man didn't hear him.

The movie turned out to be really good. It

was funny and exciting. I was glad for that. During the first half of the picture, Logan kept turning to me and grinning. He was relaxing. So was I.

Except for my right foot. It had gone numb from being held in the same position for so long. Sammie or no Sammie, I had to shift my legs. So I did. Then I reached down to check on her. I felt around inside the basket.

Sammie was gone.

I gasped.

"What's the matter?" asked Logan.

"Sammie's not in the basket," I said. My heart was pounding. Logan grabbed up the basket. Then he felt around inside it. "She must have fallen out!" he exclaimed, trying to whisper. "You let her fall out. You lost our daughter!"

"I did not!"

"You did too. I bet she's rolling around in the aisle somewhere."

Logan was half right. Sammie was rolling around, but she wasn't in the aisle. She was just under my seat. Except we didn't discover that until after Logan had panicked and called over an usher to shine his flashlight on the floor. I thought the man in the third seat would kill us.