(Silence, The doctor and the nurse exchange looks)
“Can I see the mother..??”
You ask while staring at the baby who is now fondled to sleep in your arms, teary smiles ridden onto your face, you can’t hide the elation that you bear. The doctor and the nurse staring at the both of you so ardently as if staring at some soap opera in a glass prism, where after 20 years a dad finally meets his long lost son, after all those years of living in the streets with no family, finally hugging each other and no one questions if he’s indeed his son, for you can note the resemblance. They can’t help but say, “wow. They finally met”
“Can I see the mother…?”
You ask again but this time more sternly while you looking at the two of them.
” Uuuhm we are sorry, but you can’t. …..”
The nurse stammers, as the doctor raises her eyebrows onto her, hinting to her not to say a thing yet. Something like, “it’s too early to tell him the truth, this is not the right time, can’t you see how happy he is??”
And the nurse stops, holds her breath, casually regretting why she spoke in the first place.
“What do you mean I can’t see her??” You begin to interrogate the nurse,
“What do you think about the name Denise??” The doctor thoughtfully dissuades your attention,
“It’s a unique name, it’s the name of my daughter…” you respond while holding her close to your breath.
“Do you know what it means..the name ??” The nurse asks you, but you’re lost in thoughts, thinking about your little girl.
You are in the living room, folding clothes, it’s early in the morning. The baby suckling at her mom’s tits, and you gonna sit there, watching the both of them, Samantha raising her eyebrows to you, smiling, she says,
“She has your eyes and smile, you know….”
You smile back, as you finish folding clothes, then you jut up, and head straight to them, you bow your head and plant a kiss on Samantha’s forehead.
“,.. thank you… but she posses your beauty…”
You say as you fiddle the baby’s toes, then you head to the kitchen to prepare the two of you breakfast.
She’s now yours. Even though you have no job, it doesn’t matter, even when you’re dead broke, you know you’ve got two lives to live for. A hassle to take care of. And a pride worth protecting. For soon the baby gonna grow, she gonna start mewling, crawling, saying, “tat…Tata. ..” She gonna slur as if she wanna say something. And her tooth will soon grow, she gonna start taking solid food, not forgetting the sleepless nights that you broke for, it was all worth it. And in those moments that she wouldn’t speak, you’ll still understand her in her own language, when she cries, when she cackles, and the times that she will be frightened you’ll be her rock, gently you’ll stroke her back to sleep in the middle of the night after a nightmare, when her mom would be having the most beautiful sleep she missed over months ago, not forgetting the moments you’ll read her bedtime stories, how poetic, to assure her that the boogeyman ain’t under her bed.
All these thoughts play out in your mind, only to be drawn back to the reality, by a familiar voice.
“Give me my baby…!!!!”
Samantha, on a wheelchair, being pushed by a nurse, finally shows up in a blue maternity gown. As if surprised, your eyes meet at focal point, you move slightly forward, as if you want to hug her, but she notices that you didn’t hear her.
“Can I have my baby….!!?” She demands again.
As though you haven’t heard whatever it is she said, you stare at the baby as you move close to Samantha,
“She’s so beautiful, our baby is so beautiful…”
At this instance, in your mind she was to say something along the lines of, “I named her after my mother..” or “… I named her after my best friend..” She would have, she would have played into your thoughts, tell you something about the name Denise, how strong, resilient and how stubborn the name is, maybe even without a father Denise will still thrive. That’s what you want to hear, but Samantha sits there on the wheel chair, alms on her knees as if she would want to stand up and face you, look at you head on, except she can’t. She smiles slyly, with humour satirically embedded on her voice, she says,
“Huh, our baby??…. are you mad…??”
“Yess, our baby,… she’s so beautiful, as you. ..”
To her it doesn’t matter whether this is the first time you ever tell her she’s beautiful. I don’t get it, was that meant to warm up her heart??
“You are crazy, what did you smoke this morning….??”
The two nurse and the doctor stare at each other in amusement, amazed with the turn of events.
“Come on Samantha, let’s get you discharged and get you home…” you say,
“Home?? To your crib?? Seriously, dude, you’re sick, can I have my baby, she needs to feed. ..!”
“I’m so sorry about the way I treated you, but it’s all gonna be different now…” you make your case heard. She stares at you, trying to contemplate on what you have just said, after a few, her voice sprungs out and fills the atmosphere like the scent of sand during an afternoon downpour.
“Sorry , huh? Is sorry suppose to make me feel better? ”
“I’ll work on it, I promise.”
“Will sorry heal my vagina and seal the wound you left behind as the baby came out of me?? Do you even think for a second how it feels to have something grow inside of you, and live in a man’s house, (chuckles, stares at you with contempt) my bad, and live in a boy’s crib who despises you, stares at you as if you share nothing in common, not even the foetus that grows in your womb, treats you as filth, and still have the audacity to call my baby, our baby?? You insane??”
“Come on Samantha, stop,…”
“Excuse me!!!? Am I embarrassing you..? When you left me unattended to in your crib, when you went looking for other women, pleading on their doorstep, licking their boots, as though they owned you, still you have the audacity to say sorry? ? When I called you a thousand times, and you were actually glad that I was gonna lose it, so I’d leave you in peace with your whores, where are they now? Do you even know how I got to the hospital? Do you even have the money to discharge me?? Huh, where’s your precious little Jill, ain’t you gonna run and weep on her doorstep, beg her to take you back …?”
Every syllable that oozed from her mouth ripped you a part. Every word that she said brewed tears from her eyes, weak, weary, you saw it through her eyes, the doctor and the nurses felt her pain, in their eyes they had judged you already.
“Samantha, please stop…”
Her voice bursts out amidst her tears with shreds of bitterness engraved on it,
“Stop??? You want me to stop..? Give me back my baby..!!” She demands.
“I’m not going you our baby..”
The baby starts to cry, and you hold her as anger brews within you, how dare Samantha talk to you like that ? After everything you’ve done for her? You took her in and fed her, what else did she expect you to do? Perform husbandry? ? Act like you’ve been in love for centuries, and be a hypothetical hypocrite?? No, she needs to be thanking you, lest she wished you to throw her out.
“How dare you? ?! You should be thanking me for the little I did for you..”
“Give me back my baby!!!?”
Other patients came to see what’s going on, even those who were writhing in pain, find some sort of pleasure in the ordeal, some sort of a relief.
The baby’s cries heightens, the nurses waiting for the doctor to intervene. Samantha seated on her wheelchair, screaming,
“Give me back my baby..”
You’re standing there, everyone watching you. The baby crying as though she can feel the pain of her mother, or she feel frightens by your heart beat.
“Shhhhhh little girl don’t you cry” you say but she doesn’t listen.
Samantha gets up from her wheelchair, misses a few steps, stumbles down, the nurse comes to her aid,
“Give me back my baby…!!!”
You stand on her face, smiling, enjoying,
“Beg me!!” You say,
“Please….”
“Sorry, can’t hear you,??”
“Please, may I have my baby back, she wants to feed. ”
Samantha’s tears are genuine, through them you can see yourself and you can see Denise in them. For a moment you question your intention.
“Please, Phill, I beg you. .”
Her pleas moves everyone to the core of their heart. Even you, tears brews in your eyes, everyone feels sympathy towards her. The baby cries are deafening, you still hold on to her,
“You’re full of theatrics, ain’t you? ”
You move close to Samantha, hold her hair, plant a kiss on her forehead, then you hug her, she hugs you back,
“I’m so sorry, I had to put you through this, I really am”
Then in one swift move, you turned around, pushing Samantha back to her wheelchair, and left with the baby on your arms., a baby that’s not even a day old. Everybody watched you as you left, Samantha tried getting back on her feet to no vain, she crawled towards you on her knees, yelling out, “my baby, my baby..” the nurses helped her on her feet, but she couldn’t let them,
She fought like she wanted to live. And she could only live by winning the fight. I saw it in her eyes, the veins that crisscrossed on her face, I saw it. She tore anything that stood on her way. She broke stuffs, and I saw the power that she possessed. She screamed, roared like the pride was hers to rule. Like pain was the only thing she knew of.
The doctor, shouted,
“Call the security”
And those strong enough raced after you.
****
As written by Phill Ibsen
( Master of Descriptions )
A Heart_Art_Poetics productions
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