November Blues

“I think they said she’s gonna be okay.” Jericho glanced at Olivia and thought he saw tears in her eyes.

  “You think we can go see her?” Dana wondered.

  Jericho’s dad had just returned from the information desk. “I have her room number. Let’s go up, but I don’t think we should crowd her.”

  Geneva said, “Then I’ll wait here in the lobby with Todd and Rory. I’ll see her later.”

  Upstairs in the maternity ward, Jericho felt uncomfortable, but surprisingly in control. He whispered to Kofi, “Don’t let this medical stuff freak you out. Don’t let on to November that we’re worried.”

  “Gotcha!” Kofi whispered back. When they got to her room, they saw November lying curled under a pile of blankets. Her hair was a mess. Her mother sat in a chair next to her bed, rubbing her back.

  “What’s up, little mama?” Dana asked gently. “How you feeling?”

  November started to cry. “You keep calling me that, but I’m not much of a mama. I couldn’t even figure out how to have a baby correctly! Women from the olden times used to go out in the fields, have the kid, and then go back to work the same day. I couldn’t even keep her in long enough for her to be safe and healthy.”

  “Babies are tough. She’s gonna be fine. And you were outstanding! Did you know you’re in this morning’s paper?” Olivia told her.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, girl. You’re all that and a bag of chips!” Dana said, maybe a little too cheerfully. November smiled.

  “Have you seen the baby yet?” asked Jericho. Kofi had stayed in the hall.

  “I have,” Mrs. Nelson replied. “She weighs three pounds. She’s no bigger than a child’s doll….” She paused. “And she’s…she’s just beautiful!” She glanced away.

  Jericho was starting to feel overwhelmed. Girls. Babies. Labor and delivery. He didn’t think he could take much more of this. But he’d made a promise to November, even to Josh’s memory. He inhaled and gave November a broad, fake smile. “Whassup, November? You really know how to make a scene!”

  November sniffed and managed a weak grin. “Hey, Cuz.”

  “They wouldn’t let me come with you on the ’copter, you know. I was so pissed! I tried, November—I really tried.”

  November reached over and touched Jericho. Her hand was wrapped in gauze and an IV line protruded from it. “It was a very small helicopter, Jericho. It wouldn’t have worked anyway. But it makes me glad to know you made the effort. And you’re here now—that’s what counts.”

  Jericho wanted to ask her about the delivery, the baby, the complications—but he couldn’t find the words. This is way out of my zone, he thought. So instead he just mumbled, “I hope everything gets straight real soon.”

  “It’s okay, Jericho. I know this place is makin’ you sweat. Go get some air. I’m fine.”

  “I’ll be back in a few,” he said gratefully. Jericho jetted out of the room and inhaled deeply when he got into the hall.

  “I knew better,” Kofi told him as he casually leaned against a far wall.

  “I hate hospitals, man! First Josh. Now this. Enough is enough!”

  “I feel ya. What time is it?”

  Jericho glanced at his watch. “It’s five thirty in the morning, man. The next time I pull an all-nighter, it’s gonna be for a party!”

  “You got that right. Let’s kick rocks.”

  “Naw, man,” Jericho said resolutely. “I’m gonna stick around awhile. I gotta see this through.”

  They stood in front of the elevator. When the door slid open, Brock and Marlene Prescott, along with a man dressed all in beige, stepped out. Kofi got in, but Jericho waved him on and let the elevator leave without him.

  “What’s up, Uncle Brock?” he asked.

  “We’ve come to check on the baby, Jericho.” Brock’s unshaven face looked gaunt in the florescent hospital lighting.

  “How did you find out so soon?” Jericho asked, glancing at the man in beige.

  “Several people who were on the busses called us. It’s the kind of news that spreads quickly. Besides, all four local channels have been scrolling the story all night long.”

  “That’s messed up,” Jericho said, shaking his head.

  “Reporters are having a field day—‘Teenage Girl Gives Birth After Football Game! Trauma and Drama on the Side of the Highway’!” Brock explained.

  “I had no idea,” Jericho said. “So what are you two gonna do, Aunt Marlene?” He noticed that her eyes looked much clearer than the last time he’d seen her.

  “I came to see my granddaughter, of course.”

  Jericho nearly had to jog to keep up with them as they marched purposefully down the hall toward November’s room. They sure didn’t waste any time, he thought.

  “Uh, did November ever sign the papers?”

  “We had scheduled a meeting with November and her mother for the twenty-first. We had not anticipated that the baby would be premature,” said the beige man, who Jericho assumed was the lawyer November had been so upset by.

  Jericho knew that November did not need to be dealing with his aunt and uncle today. She had enough to worry about. He thought a moment, then said, “Hey! Have you even seen the baby yet? Why don’t you do that first?”

  The lawyer turned abruptly. “Excellent idea, young man.”

  “Where can we find the Nelson baby?” Marlene asked a nurse at the desk. “We’re the grandparents,” she added proudly. Her fuzziness had long since disappeared now that she had a purpose, Jericho noticed.

  “She’s in the NICU,” the nurse replied. “In critical condition.”

  “Nick-You?” Jericho asked, his heart thudding at the word “critical.”

  “That’s the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit,” the nurse explained. “Sorry, we toss around those acronyms without thinking sometimes.”

  “Oh, my!” Marlene said, stepping back in surprise. “We knew the baby was premature, but we had no idea it was this serious.”

  “The news reports didn’t give any of the details,” Brock said in confusion.

  The nurse gave them directions to the NICU, and they hurried off down the hall, beige lawyer trotting behind them. Even though he really wanted to go outside and breathe fresh air, to get as far away from that antiseptic hospital smell as he could, Jericho went with them.

  The nurse at the door wouldn’t let them enter the NICU—parents only—but as Brock protested that they were the grandparents, she told them to go over to the glass wall and she’d point out the Nelson baby from inside. Jericho was immensely relieved that they weren’t going in.

  Each infant lay in what looked like a very complicated plastic box that had wires and tubes and monitors feeding in and out of it. Two round circles had been cut in its sides, and Jericho could see nurses wearing special gloves reaching in to tend to the babies.

  He’d never seen so many tiny, helpless creatures. Baby humans. All in distress.

  The nurse pointed to the incubator closest to the window. A wrinkled, red baby girl, small enough to fit into the palm of his hand, jerked her legs spasmodically. Her hands were covered with gauze, as were her eyes. A tube, which was taped to her little cheek, had been inserted into her nose. A knitted cap, so tiny it could fit on the end of a cell phone, covered her head. Someone had pasted a pink bow on it. A pink sign, taped to the side of the incubator, said BABY GIRL NELSON.

  Marlene gasped. “Oh, my! She’s so impossibly tiny!” she whispered.

  “She’s a very sick child, Marlene,” said her husband gently.

  “She just needs to get bigger and stronger, right? This is Josh’s child—of course she’ll be perfect,” Marlene replied, hope in her voice.

  “It’s possible,” the lawyer interjected. “But preemies can have a whole host of serious complications.”

  “I want to talk to a doctor,” Brock said, looking up and down the hall.

  As they stood gaping at the infants, the door to the unit opened, and, as if he’d heard Brock, a red-hai
red doctor came out into the hall. He wore light green scrubs, and his face wore a look of compassion. Jericho figured he’d dealt with a lot of worried parents and grandparents, a lot of tears and tragedy.

  “May I ask you a couple of questions, Doctor?” Brock said in the deep, authoritative voice that Jericho had grown up with. “We have a new little one in there—our granddaughter.” He smiled at the doctor and shook his hand.

  “Sure. I’m Dr. Mitchell. How can I help you?”

  “The Nelson baby. I know it’s early, but can you tell us her chances?”

  “Oh, she just came in here a few hours ago. Her chances of survival? Pretty good. We’re very good at keeping them alive.” He paused. “I know this is difficult, but I’ll be honest with you. Preemies can be amazingly resilient, but there are often complications. Many are fairly minor. Others”—he cleared his throat—“can be much more serious.”

  Marlene’s eyes welled with tears as she pressed herself against the glass that separated her from the baby. Jericho thought his aunt faded a little at that moment, back to that place she had escaped to when Josh died. The lawyer scribbled something on a notepad.

  “I’m sorry to be so harsh, but sometimes it helps to understand the risks and possibilities. You can be a great support to the mother, who will need you as she deals with the complications this child may have.”

  Fat chance of that happening! Jericho thought.

  “Can you elaborate, Dr. Mitchell?” asked Brock.

  “Well, I hope I’m wrong. I can’t see the future, and I’ve seen things here that could be called miracles, but a premature baby is not merely a small baby—it is an underdeveloped baby. It is not ready to live outside its mother. The younger it is, the more problems it will have.”

  “Why?” Jericho asked. He felt a stone in his stomach. “She was born in the hospital, not the car. Shouldn’t she be okay?”

  “Let me explain, son. Are you the father of the child?”

  “Me? No way! It was my cousin, Josh,” Jericho said quickly. Even the thought of being a father made him start to sweat. He knew he had to get out of that hospital soon. Still, he had to ask, “What kind of problems?”

  “Well, let’s see. The brain, intestines, and lungs of your little cousin over there are not finished growing. She can’t breathe on her own. She can’t digest food, or even eat yet, for that matter. Her immune system isn’t working, so she is very prone to infections.”

  “Can’t she grow out of all that stuff?” Jericho asked. He felt sick.

  “Some of it, perhaps. But this little one didn’t breathe when she was born. It was several minutes before she took a breath on her own.”

  “So what does that mean?” Jericho asked.

  “You look like you’re an athlete, am I right?”

  “Yeah. Football.”

  “You keep scores in sports, and we do the same for newborns. It’s called an Apgar score. It’s a little like a grade on a test.”

  “The kid is just born and already you’re giving her tests? That sucks!” said Jericho, trying to lighten the mood a little.

  “No spelling tests yet, but we do check things like heart rate and breathing and muscle tone.”

  “I follow you,” Jericho said, his heart beating fast. Marlene, Brock, and the lawyer all leaned forward.

  “Well, we take this measurement at one minute after birth, and again at five minutes after the baby is born. A perfectly healthy baby is given a ten, but an eight or nine is acceptable.”

  “So what did the Nelson baby score?” the lawyer asked.

  “At birth her score was one-half. At five minutes it was a one.”

  Marlene inhaled sharply. No one else spoke. Jericho felt weak.

  The doctor continued. “When the brain is deprived of oxygen, those cells that determine intelligence and thought, and even walking and talking, well, they simply die. Although we can’t be certain, there’s a chance the child may have suffered some significant brain damage.”

  Jericho bolted down the hall and disappeared.

  CHAPTER 48

  SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 5

  JERICHO COULDN’T WAIT FOR THE ELEVATOR. He found the door that indicated the stairs, and he leaped down the cement steps two at a time, his footsteps echoing against the bare gray concrete walls. He didn’t even know he was crying until he emerged into the lobby.

  Todd ran up to him. “What’s wrong, Jericho? Why are you crying?”

  “I’m fine, little dude. Give me a minute.” Jericho pushed into the closest bathroom, locked himself in a stall, and allowed himself to feel real. Months of anger, sorrow, and tension finally exploded in deep, body-racking sobs. He let it all go. Finally he took a deep breath, blew his nose, and opened the door of the stall. He ran some cold water on his face, squared his shoulders, and went out to face whatever would happen next. This time he felt like he could handle it.

  Todd stood by the bathroom door, waiting for him. “I got your back, Jericho. You okay?”

  Afraid he’d lose it again, Jericho made a funny face, sniffed, and slapped the boy gently on his back. “You got a little bitty back!” he teased.

  “I’ll grow,” the boy said wisely. “Hey, Jericho, can I ask you something?”

  “Yeah, kid, anything.”

  “Do you think I’m too young to learn how to play the trumpet? Could you teach me? I miss hearing you play.”

  “As soon as football season is over, let’s do that.” Jericho put an invisible trumpet to his lips. Todd did the same, and the two brothers grinned at each other as they fingered a silent tune. But Jericho’s smile faded as he looked up and saw who was getting out of a car and heading into the lobby. Somehow, Arielle just didn’t seem to fit into this picture.

  She ran right over to him and hugged him. “Oh, Jericho, this has been so horrible for all of us. How are you handling everything?”

  He gave her a strange look, then took her arms from around him. “I’m okay, Arielle. Really. It’s November and the baby that we’re all worried about.”

  “I heard the baby might die. Or it might be retarded. Is that true?”

  “The baby is pretty sick, but we think she’ll pull through.” He spoke stiffly.

  “How awful to have one of those messed-up kids to deal with the rest of your life. If I was November, I’d just put it in a home and get on with my life.”

  Jericho looked at Arielle as if he was seeing her for the first time. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you’re not November,” he said quietly.

  “Why are you acting so cold, Jericho?” she asked, a petulant smile on her face. “I want to make up for last time, and show you how supportive I can be in a crisis.” She reached for him, but again, he gently pushed her away.

  “You’re just getting here?” he asked her. “Lots of kids from school have been hanging out in the lobby most of the night—just to be here for her, you know.”

  “Well, I had to go home and freshen up a bit—you know, do my hair and change clothes.” She twirled around so he could see her outfit—tight blue jeans; a gold-stitched, V-neck embroidered sweater that was cut deep enough to show everything beneath it; a low-slung shiny gold belt; and black leather boots.

  “You look really nice,” he conceded.

  She gave him another big hug. “I knew you’d notice!”

  Before he could push her away the elevator doors opened, and Dana and Olivia stepped off.

  When Jericho saw the pain and disappointment on Olivia’s face, his stomach churned and knotted up, and his fists clenched with the need to protect her. She just stood there, staring at Jericho and Arielle, her face so sad he couldn’t bear it.

  Dana whispered to Olivia, “Let’s go out to the parking lot.”

  Olivia shook her head. “No. I have just as much right to be in this lobby as anybody,” she said clearly.

  “You sure take up more space than anybody!” Arielle scoffed as she released Jericho and put her hands on her hips. She turned to look at Olivia direct
ly.

  “A solid mass always beats the emptiness of air,” Olivia responded, her arms wrapped tightly in front of her chest.

  “You’re solid, all right. I could fit five pairs of my jeans into one of yours! Not that it matters, though. I’m here for Jericho, who happens to like my tight, size two jeans and the cute butt that sits in them!”

  “Wait just a minute, Arielle,” Jericho interrupted angrily. “Who do you think you are?”

  “I’m your girl, Jericho,” she said in that voice he usually found so irresistible.

  “No. You were never my girl. Everything you ever did was for you, not for me.”

  “That’s not fair!” she said, tossing her curls. “I joined the cheerleaders just so we could spend more time together.”

  “So I guess you’ll be joining the track team next so you can get rides home from practice in Brandon Merriweather’s new BMW!” he said harshly. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

  By this time a crowd of students had circled around them, and they collectively cried, “Ooh!”

  “Brandon’s just a friend—he means nothing to me,” she retorted, looking directly at Jericho, her eyes imploring. “Can we go outside and talk about this, Jericho? I want to apologize properly.” She reached for his hand.

  He jerked his hand back. “No, we can’t, Arielle. I’m with somebody.”

  “Who? Dana? She’s Kofi’s girl. I don’t see anybody else you could possibly be interested in. Certainly not the elephant woman here!” She laughed.

  Jericho reached back and grabbed Olivia’s hand and pulled her next to him. He glanced at her and smiled. For a moment she looked stunned, and then she squeezed his hand.

  “Olivia is more woman than you will ever be, you little piece of gutter fluff!” Jericho told Arielle, eyeing her calmly, and suddenly absolutely certain of his feelings.

  “Well, you’re right about one thing—that’s a whole lotta woman you got there!” She was about to laugh again when Olivia reached out with her free hand. Arielle tensed.

  It looked as if Olivia were about to slap Arielle, but instead, she took her thumb and middle finger and flicked Arielle soundly on the nose, as if she was flicking away an annoying insect. “Bip!” Olivia said lightly. The students who had watched the whole thing like a television soap opera cracked up in laughter.