Remember What Mama Said

“Come, Mia. We’re here.”

Ling gets down from the car and opens the back passenger seat.

Mia and her brother Min appear behind Ling, meekly holding hands.

“Just give me a minute,” Ling says. She unbuckles the baby’s car seat, swiftly sweeps her up in her arms.

The children watch quietly as Ling wrestles the stroller out from the boot of the car. She swears under her breath when it gets stuck, then takes a deep breath as it finally sets and she places the baby into it.

“Let’s go.”

No one speaks as they make their way to the entrance of the supermarket.

Ling stops abruptly, turns to Mia.

“Remember what Mama said.”

She sweeps a stray strand of hair from Mia’s pale face, her hand trembling. Mia slowly nods.

**

The fluorescent lights are blinding, making every aisle seem exposed. Ling pulls her sweater closer around her as the air conditioning blasts chilly air.

She glances at the children—Mia wearing sleeveless and Min in shorts. She leans down into the stroller to tuck the edges of the baby’s blanket around her.

She grabs a shopping trolley from the queue with one hand, then she pushes the stroller forward with the other, Mia and Min in tow.

As they reach the frozen meat section, Ling hears a stomach grumble. She turns to Mia. Mia looks down. “Just hold on a little longer, baby,” Ling whispers.

Ling takes a pack of ground beef, throws it into the cart. She looks around.

A man’s comparing oil prices. Two teenagers are laughing over at the instant noodles. An old lady is inspecting tomatoes.

Ling takes another pack of ground beef and slides it in the stroller’s undercarriage, under the baby’s wet wipes and spare diapers.

She pauses for a second. Then slides another pack under the other.

Ling’s knees buckle. But she quickly straightens up and moves the stroller further down the aisle.

Bread.
Milk.
Eggs.
Vegetables.

One into the trolley. One beneath the diapers.

With each item she takes, her heart pounds faster, her breath catches.

Mia keeps glancing at the trolley, then at the stroller.

Min claps his little hands, as if they’re playing a strange, new game.

The baby stirs in the stroller, then settles back to sleep.

**

Finally, they arrive right before the checkout.

Ling bends down, her eyes level with Mia’s.

“Baby, remember what Mama said. I need your help, okay? You think you can do it?”

Mia’s face grows paler still. Ling bites her lip, exhales loudly.

But when Min whines, “Mama, I’m hungry…” she closes her eyes.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry.”

She turns to look into Mia’s eyes, then glances down at the jar of marinara sauce in Mia’s hands.

Mia’s lip quivers, and her eyes well up with tears.

“Mama, I’m scared.”

“You can do it, baby. I need you to.”

With a sharp breath, Mia drops the jar onto the floor, and the glass shatters at her feet.

Red clumpy liquid splatters across Mia’s sandals, the tattered bottoms of Ling’s jeans. Min screams, and the baby starts wailing.

“Oh, my God! Are you okay?” A cashier rushes to their side.

Mia cries, tears streaming down her face. Was Mia really hurt? Or simply terrified?

Ling pulls Mia away from the bloody-looking mess and closer to the checkout. She kneels, touching Mia’s feet.

“Did you hurt your foot? Are you bleeding?” Mia’s cries turn into gasping sobs.

The cashier frowns, placing her hand over her mouth. “Oh, no. Shall I get a first-aid kit?”

Ling scoops the whimpering Mia into her arms, grabs Min’s hand.

“I’m so sorry, I need to get them to the car. I’ll fix her up back home!”

Without looking back, she quickly pushes the stroller out, past the checkout counter.

The security guard glances up. His eyes flick to the screaming children. Then the shattered jar behind them. He steps aside.

When the exit doors open and the almost-noon sunlight hit her face, Ling holds her breath. Almost there. It’s not over yet.

Ling practically jog-runs to her car, Mia bouncing in her arms, Min crying behind her.

Baby goes into the car seat. The boot flies open. Stroller is hastily folded and thrown in, half sticking out. Mia and Min are bundled into the back seat.

It’s only when they’re driving out of the compound, the supermarket becoming smaller and smaller in her rear-view mirror, does Ling finally breathe again.

What have I done?

She looks in the mirror once more, sees Mia downcast, Min wiping snot from his nose, the baby hiccupping in her car seat.

“Mama?” Mia says.

Ling grips the steering wheel tighter.

“Let’s go home.”

-THE END-

(C) Copyright Lisa Kwan 2026

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Part of my personal creative writing project. Based on a randomly generated What If? scenario.

Prompt:

If you had no money to feed your children, how would you go about getting food?