If I Tell

CHAPTER fourteen



I found the triage area in the maternity ward and spotted Grandma slouched over in an oversized chair in the waiting room. She looked older and more tired than usual.

“A boy,” she said instead of hello. “You’ve got a baby brother.”

A surge of happiness at the news took me by surprise. “Already?” I asked.

Grandma smiled a little sadly but nodded. “He’s tiny, and they’re in with him, but he’s a fighter.”

I swallowed a lump in my throat. I think I loved him already. I hadn’t expected that. Grandma wrapped her arms around me. It had been a long time since she’d hugged me like that, but I hung on.

“Your mom’s doing pretty good too.” Grandma pushed me gently away and wiped underneath my eyes. “No tears. This is happy.”

Someone cleared their throat behind us, and I turned and saw that a nurse had approached us.

“You’re Jasmine?” she asked in a crisp voice. She didn’t sound particularly happy about my name. I bobbed my head in response.

“Your mom is asking for you. Come.” Without another word, she turned and started to walk the other way.

Grandma marched beside me. The nurse glanced over. “No. Just her. She wants to see her daughter. Alone.”

Grandma stopped. “Oh.” Her expression stayed neutral. “Oh. Well, maybe I’ll go to the gift store then. See if I can pick up something for the baby. You’ll stay with your mom until I get back, Jaz?”

I nodded, nervous. Why’d Mom want to talk to me all alone? The nurse tapped her toe up and down so I followed her white running shoes. From behind, I studied her dyed blond hairstyle, which was glued to her head with hair spray. Her body looked angry, bulging out of the burgundy nurse uniform. The corridor we went down smelled like a doctor’s office. Same muffled sounds and baby cries.

We passed the nurses’ station and then stepped into a hallway lined with numbered rooms. Women in blue hospital gowns lay in beds in the rooms or sat in rocking chairs beside the beds. Many held tiny babies in their arms. All of them looked tired.

The nurse stopped outside the room at the end of the hall. “She’s in there.” She gestured at the room with her thumb and scrutinized me. “Your dad is with the baby,” she said through pinched lips.

“He’s not my dad.”

I nervously peeked around the doorway, looking for my mom inside the room.

The nurse tsked and clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “I guess that’s not a surprise.”

My insides reeled with unease. “What?”

She crossed her arms, and her lips disappeared into a thin line. “Nothing.”

She couldn’t be implying what I thought.

“Can you please explain what you mean?” She stepped back at the ferocity of my tone. It stunned both of us.

She glared at me. I glared back.

“You know, it’s not like I’ve never seen that look before. But a tiny little baby doesn’t deserve that from someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“You think because he has a black father and a white mother, the baby is bad or evil or something?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The nurse turned up her nose, but her cheeks got splotchy.

“You know what? I think you do. But it’s your problem. Not his.” The tiny baby I hadn’t even met brought out a protective side of me I hadn’t even known existed. I wasn’t about to let a stupid nurse label my baby brother.

I stood taller. I decided right then that I’d have to teach him how to handle people like her. Meanwhile, until he was old enough, he’d need someone to stick up for him. I stepped up to the plate. I wouldn’t let him deal alone. He’d never be alone. I’d protect him.

Without acknowledging the nurse, I tiptoed inside my mom’s maternity room. A blue curtain separated two beds. One was empty, but the bed by the window looked lumpy. I crept toward it.

“Mom?” I whispered.

Her eyes opened, bloodshot and watery as if she’d been on a serious bender.

“Hey,” I said, overcome by strange almost motherly feelings for her. I saw the hospital bracelets on her wrist. Two of them. “So you had a baby.”

She laughed, but it sounded dry and humorless. “Either that or I got hit by a truck.” She sighed as deeply as one of Aretha Franklin’s soul-searching songs. “Don’t tell Grandma I said that,” she told me. “She’s probably mad I was only in labor for an hour.”

“I hardly think that’s what Grandma thinks.”

Mom closed her eyes. “Even though he was tiny, it hurt.” She paused for a minute. “I hope he’s going to be okay. He’s really small.”

I reached as if to pat her hand, but I pulled back before I touched her. “He’ll be okay.”

“Simon’s in there willing him to good health.” She opened her eyes. “He weighs over five pounds. He’ll be fine.”

Her robotic voice worried me a little. “What’s his name?” I asked softly.

She turned her head, looking out the window. “We don’t know yet. We haven’t agreed on a name. We’re talking about it.”

I waited, trying to think of something to say. It was like talking to a stranger.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

I held my breath, waiting to get shit for hitting Simon.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been a better mom.” Her voice stayed flat, which kind of canceled my relief at not getting in trouble.

“Mom. Forget it. You were young when you had me, and things turned out okay. I mean, I knew you cared and stuff. It was just different.”

“I was like a sister. And not always a very good one.”

I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I knew who you were to me.”

Tears plopped from my mom’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks. “Of course it matters. I didn’t even raise you myself.” Her face scrunched up as if she was in pain. “You’re such a good kid. You don’t even yell at me or complain.”

I looked out the window, but the only view was the brick wall of the hospital. “You’re emotional from having the baby, that’s all. You should rest.”

She grabbed my hand, startling me. “If anything happens to me, make sure that Simon is the one to look after the baby.”

“Mom, nothing’s going to happen to you.” I tried to pry my hand away, but she held on.

“But if something does happen. Simon’s his dad. Promise. I don’t want Grandma raising him.”

“Okay, Mom. Okay.”

She dropped my hand and closed her eyes again. “Thanks. Thanks, Jaz. I knew I could rely on you.” She smiled weakly. “You should see him. He’s darker than you. Simon said he’s as black as his daddy’s behind.”

I giggled at the comment as the evil nurse walked into the room. She marched over to the bed without smiling. I wondered if she’d heard us. I moved aside for the nurse to take my mom’s pulse and blood pressure.

“Your husband is on his way from the Level Two nursery,” she said as she pulled apart the Velcro straps for the blood-pressure monitor.

“He’s not my husband.”

The nurse glared at her and then at me. “I heard.”

I raised my chin. “Well, glad we’ve got that little detail established. Anything else you want to know?”

The nurse glowered as she grabbed Mom’s wrist, placed two fingers on it, and lifted her other hand with the wristwatch on to take Mom’s pulse.

“I don’t think it’s the lack of marriage she disapproves of,” I said. “She doesn’t like white people who don’t stick to their own kind. Or the babies that result.”

Mom collapsed farther into her pillows. “Jaz. Don’t make trouble.”

The nurse’s bright red face reminded me of a circus clown. She dropped my mom’s hand and wrapped the blood-pressure kit around her arm.

“I’m not making trouble. She’s prejudiced.”

“I’m not.” She glared at me. “Excuse me. I have to take her blood pressure.”

I was glad my pressure wasn’t being checked. It would be off the charts.

“I’ll bring you a robe so you can get up to see the baby,” the nurse said to my mom.

She deflated farther into her pillows. “No. I can’t. Not yet.”

“You need to move around, and your baby needs you.” The nurse’s voice radiated disapproval. She tapped her nails on the blood-pressure pump.

“She said she can’t right now,” I interrupted, my voice overly high pitched. Playing grown-up was hard work.

The nurse made a noise in her throat as she made notes in Mom’s chart and then gathered her equipment and hurried out of the room.

My mom sat up, wiping under her eyes. “You’re doing my dirty work for me now. I’m a terrible mother.”

“No, you’re not. You need to rest. Don’t let that mean nurse bully you.”

She sniffled. “I can’t even bear to see the baby right now. I don’t deserve a baby. He’s better off without me in there. Simon can look after him better than I can.”

“You’re just tired, Mom.” I grabbed a Kleenex box from a small table at the end of her bed, and then Simon rushed into the room, sucking all the oxygen from it. My cheeks warmed, remembering the last time I’d seen him. I handed my mom tissues and moved away, leaning back against the windowsill.

“He’s doing great, Tara.” Simon bent down and kissed her cheek. “He’s going to be okay.”

“I know,” Mom answered, her eerie voice stripped of emotion.

“Hey, Slugger.” Simon winked. “So you’re a big sister.”

“Congratulations,” I said formally.

His grin was as wide as his face. “I’m a dad!” He rushed forward and grabbed me, lifting me up and spinning me in a circle. Apparently he’d forgiven me. I wished I could say the same. I went rigid, waiting to be put down, but Simon didn’t seem to notice. Finally he plopped me down.

“He’s small and he’s early, but he’s going to be okay.” He grinned as if he’d done something really amazing.

I tried not to smile but gave in.

“You want to meet him?” he asked me. He glanced at Mom. “Is that okay, Tara? Can I take Jaz down to see him? You can stay here and rest.”

I shook my head, but Mom nodded, almost disappearing into her pillows and closing her eyes again.

“Come on.” Simon leaned over and kissed Mom’s cheek and then grabbed my hand and pulled. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to your brother. Get some sleep, Tara. I’ll take Jaz to meet our baby.”

Before I could protest, he tugged me out of the room. “I’m sorry about the other day, Jaz. I understand why you blew up at me. Your dad—and then me, all complaining about your mom, and well, I’m sorry. I should never have said anything to you. It was stupid.” He dragged me along. “Let’s forget it, okay?”

He babbled on, giving me too many details about my mom’s water breaking at work and her fast delivery, her pushing starting in the car. When we reached the neonatal room, his voice lowered.

“He’s in the NICU. Some of the babies inside are really small, but he won’t be here for long. The nurses and doctor are concerned about his liver. But he’ll be okay. Come on. He’s over here.”

He tugged me past some heartbreakingly fragile babies attached to tangled wires, tubes, and IVs. The room was a blur of machines, lights, and alarms.

“That’s him.” He pointed inside an incubator.

I gasped. I gazed down at my tiny brother. Patches of kinky black hair covered his teeny head, which seemed too big for his thin body. Little probes poked into his dark skin. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his head lay sideways as if breathing was a challenge for someone so little. My heart melted like chocolate in sunshine. Sweet. Delicious.

As I stared down at him, a surge of love and protectiveness pulsed through my blood.

My baby brother. I loved him.

“He’s gorgeous,” I whispered to Simon. “He’s so tiny.”

“I know,” he answered.

The two of us stood in front of the incubator, staring in amazement at the little creature. Before long, Grandma arrived to see her grandson. We all stood in awe, admiring him in his little incubator.

“It’s late,” Grandma finally said. “They’ll be kicking us out.”

We went back to Mom’s room to say good-bye, but she didn’t open her eyes while we were there. We left the hospital, and Simon headed home to sleep for a few hours and to pick up baby supplies and a change of clothes for Mom.

I was worried about my mom, but Grandma told me she’d be fine. I had no choice but to believe her.