LITMIR.BIZ

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      “That’s fine. Perhaps you want to go to the waiting room for a while? They’re probably going to get her a room.”

      We went quietly, dividing in the waiting room. I dropped into a chair to continue attacking my purse. Tad went to the window. Jordan approached the TV. Suddenly, he looked more interested in the game show prizes than the birth of his first grandchild. For once, I wasn’t sure if I blamed him. This was a wonderful, horrible day.

      I rifled through the contents of my life, dumped on the next chair: cell phone, nail files, Bible memory cards, old church bulletins, Franklin planner, Montblanc pen, a key to Dana’s store and a handful of low-carb bars I’d stupidly brought along for Shemika.

      She needs carbs. She’s in labor, not a beauty pageant.

      Still, I hoped her hairweave was tight enough to endure labor. In my post-birth pictures, I’d looked as if my hair had been rotated ninety degrees—without bringing my head along. Shemika would look much better, so much better than I did. She had to. I’d make sure of it.

      Shemika rolled by on a gurney and Tad and Jordan shot out of the room like toothpaste from a new tube. I shoved my things into my purse, jabbed my feet into my shoes and ran to catch up. I guessed that chivalry was dead during emergencies.

      Without my consent, the memory of my son’s birth came to me—a blur of helplessness. I forced it back. This wasn’t my birth. And my son wasn’t going to run out on this girl. Thoughts of today replaced my memories—images of me with Shemika’s head cradled to my chest on the ride over, the sound of my voice saying, “You are strong, Shemika. And beautiful.” My heart ached as I walked down the long hall, realizing that I’d shown Shemika more kindness today than in all the time I’d known her.

      Though still far-off, I could make out Shemika’s birth soundtrack—a ballad of moans and wide, wonderful sounds. Sounds that make men very, very afraid.

      “It hurts…” she said in a low wail, not a scream anymore but a moan of discovery, a beach that seemed lifetimes away.

      I was running now, purse banging against my shins. On the right, I passed a room where a woman was shouting at her husband. He waved at me and munched ice chips. He’d done this before, too.

      Jordan took my hand and I reached the room, where I heard a different cry, the birth call of my grandchild. It played in my ears like a symphony.

      In my nightmares, there is a monster with a pink cell phone. In real life, she has a matching Prada bag, the messenger model that I admire but would never pay that much for, and the love of my high-school sweetheart. No doubt Terri bought it for use as a diaper bag. Dealing with Jordan is one thing, but this chick? She’s going to make me go Tae Bo all over again.

      “I kept calling the hospital for news. Imagine when I heard the baby had been born! I sped right over, love.”

      Jordan deflected my eyes. “Oh. Yeah. I was going to call once we saw the baby. We’re waiting.” He tried to slither out of Terri’s grip, but she wound him up like my son would soon be winding a baby swing.

      I held my breath for a moment, fighting the urge to pull Tad toward me, inferring a relationship that didn’t exist. Being the gentleman he was, Tad took a step toward me…and away from the nauseating couple. He brushed the bruise on his chin, then extended his hand to Terri. “I’m Thaddeus, Jordan’s prayer partner in the Men’s Fellowship. And Rochelle and I run the singles group at the church as well. We’d love to have both of you—”

      The inference that she was single and the thought of Jordan praying with anybody didn’t seem to go over well. “I know who you are. I’ve seen you at church. Thanks anyway, but we’re getting married, the singles group isn’t the place for us. We already live together—”

      “I’m going to go get a drink. Anybody want something?” Jordan’s voice was even. Detached.

      Tad pursed his lips. “Sure. Get me some coffee.”

      Terri smiled, pulling Jordan closer. “Sugar? They probably make it stiff here.”

      I silently prayed that the coffee would be strong enough to shock some sense into her or wake Jordan up from the fog of stupidity he was living in.

      Tad shrugged. “Sure. Two sugars.”

      “Got it. Anything for you, Chelle?” Jordan looked at a spot just above my head.

      I stared right into his eyes, trying to see something better, something different than what I’d seen seventeen years before. Looked the same to me.

      “I don’t think so, J.” Why was I calling him “J” again? All I wanted was to get back into that room with my grandbaby, not all this drama. The hospital staff had shooed us out like flies. Needed to check a few more things, they’d said, but I didn’t feel right out here.

      Jordan nodded. “Right.”

      My stomach turned as Jordan and Terri walked away, taking the stairs instead of the elevator, probably going straight to her car. I closed my eyes, wondering if I shouldn’t be thankful. At least Tad would pray with me if I came down to it. Jordan seemed to put his faith and his family on layaway, investing a little bit at a time. I liked to live debt-free myself.

      “Sorry about all that,” Tad said. “I meant what I said to Jordan. I know this can’t be easy. But I do believe God is working on him.”

      I didn’t know what God was doing to Jordan and I wasn’t sure that I cared. “It meant a lot for you to be here today. I know it may have been difficult.” In truth, it probably wasn’t difficult at all. Answering Jordan’s call as a member of the Men’s Fellowship would have been much easier than responding to my call as a friend. I didn’t dare think past friendship—it made my head hurt. Either way, he’d come.

      I squared my shoulders and turned to Tad. “Two sugars you said?” As much as I wanted to be with my grandbaby, getting Tad a cup of coffee was the least I could do. Hadn’t there been a coffeepot back in triage? Maybe they’d be kind enough to let me get a cup. Jordan had left me with the bag again. Everything was on me now. As usual.

      Tad stared toward the stairway Jordan had left by a short time before. His eyes narrowed. “They went for coffee. You don’t need to—” Slowly understanding spread across Tad’s face. He shook his head. “I don’t know Jordan as well as you do, but I don’t think he’d make the same mistake again. I don’t think he’d leave.”

      I didn’t need to think. I knew. “Two sugars?”

      Tad stared at the floor. “Make it black.”

      Ten minutes later, I drank the black coffee. I’m a tea girl, and burnt hospital coffee is a hot, slow way to die, but I had to play it off somehow.

      Jordan wasn’t buying it.

      “Here, take this tea,” he said, opening a cup with a milky streak running through it. I took creamer in my tea. Everyone but Jordan had always thought that strange. He’d always laughed at my old habit. He held out the cup and produced two packets of Equal from his pocket, another trend of mine he’d obviously picked up on.

      Somehow I turned down the perfect cup of tea. “You have it. I’m fine, thanks.” If drinking black glue was fine, then fine I was. In my anger, I turned down even that small peace offering.

      Tad sipped his just-right coffee with a smile, obviously grateful that Jordan had returned to prove him right. Something else—pity or understanding, I wasn’t sure—tinged his eyes.

      Jordan took a pack of sugar from his pocket and emptied it into the tea. One stir with his finger and he took a gulp even though it was still steaming. He’d always been crazy like that.

      Terri, who’d almost tricked me into thinking she had one sensible brain cell, refused to stay silent. “You didn’t think we were coming back, did you?”

      I sighed, surveying the duck wallpaper. What did she want me to say? “No,

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