Juked (2 page)

So she had a baby without me.

A knock startles me out of my thoughts. The door opens and a gray-haired woman walks in carrying a tiny bundle in a blanket. She catches my eyes and smiles at me.

“Hello, Miss Watson,” she says walking toward me while swaying back and forth. “I’m so glad you were able to get here so quickly. Baby Chance is finally asleep, but I know he’ll be more comfortable once he’s with a familiar person.”

I don’t bother to correct her. Regardless of how I found out, this is still my nephew.

She places the newborn in my arms. “I’m Victoria. I’m a social worker here at the hospital.” My mind is still foggy from everything that has happened in the last thirty minutes, but I try desperately to focus on what she’s telling me. “I’m sure Dr. Ballard has already told you Chance is just fine.”

I nod and stare down at the baby. He’s so small. He looks like a tiny version of my dad, like a little old man baby. His eyes are closed tightly, and his mouth is scrunched up like he’s trying really hard to sleep. People have always said they can see the resemblance between Sarah and me. I wonder if the baby will think I’m her.

“He might be a little fussy until those bruises heal,” she continues, not realizing this is the first time I’m meeting my nephew. “I’ve put some Tylenol in his hospital bag. There are instructions on how much to give him and how often if he needs it. Try to use it sparingly.”

She’s telling me all this like I’m going to be taking him with me.
Do they think I’m taking the baby with me?

“Since his car seat has been in an accident, it isn’t usable anymore. But we have a new one for you to take. We can have someone help you install it before you leave if you’d like.”

I finally register what she’s saying. “You’re letting me take him home?”

She looks at me with a puzzled expression on her face. “You are Quincy Watson, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re her only living relative?” I nod. “You were listed on all her hospital paperwork at his birth as the next of kin and her emergency contact. I just assumed you would take custody of him. We’ve already started working on getting all the paperwork processed, and it should be done in the next hour or so. If you don’t want to, there are other arrangements we can make, I suppose….”

“No!” I exclaim suddenly. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little overwhelmed by all this. I didn’t even know I had a nephew until, well, right before you walked in.”

“Oh dear,” she says with surprise. “That does complicate things. But we’re not just handing you a baby and sending you on your way. We’re giving you a temporary custody called a ‘kinship placement’ so he doesn’t go into foster care. A social worker will come out to your home in a couple of weeks to see how things are going, and we’ll have to go in front of a judge to make custody permanent. It’s how things go under unfortunate circumstances like these.”

I nod again. I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing—nodding and staring off into space, and feeling shell-shocked.

My sister is dead, and now I have to raise her baby. A baby I just met.

What am I going to do?

I
hate shopping on Saturday nights. But being the lazy ass I am on my off days, I didn’t bother stocking the fridge before leaving on our last road trip. So now I’m out of everything from deodorant to milk.

At least it’s after midnight. That means fewer people in the store and boxes everywhere as employees stock the shelves. Boxes equal hiding places from unruly soccer fans.

Not that there are many in this town compared to, say, football fans. But soccer fans are insane.
Really
insane. Soccer is the only sport where fans bring drums and horns to the stadium and play them through the entire game. The craziness at FIFA speaks for itself.

As a forward and the team captain, when I do get recognized on the street, I tend to get mauled. Hence the need to hide behind boxes.

Plus I’m having some trouble with my corner shot so I’m in a cranky-ass mood. God help the fan who tries to talk to me about it.

As I’m grabbing a thirty-pack of Ozarka water on sale, I hear a screaming baby.
Who the hell would have a kid out this late?

In the condom aisle, I grab my trusty brand. I usually go through a box when we’re on the road.

Yes, soccer fans are crazy, but the perks of the job are nice.

I’ve been playing with the Texas Mutiny for six years now. Almost since leaving college. I love it. Not only do I get to play the sport I love for a living, I do it in the great city of Houston. There’s always something happening, from festivals to concerts. Sure it gets hot in the summer. Really hot. But it beats the hell out of blizzards in the winter.

As I round the corner, I walk right past the baby aisle. That damn kid is still screaming. I glance over as I pass by, eyeing the person who would be dumb enough to bring their kid to Walmart after midnight.

A tall blonde is staring at the different cans of formula, tears streaking down her face as she bounces the screaming baby up and down. Her hair is thrown up in some sort of messy bun, but she’s dressed business casual.

Something tells me she needs help. I just don’t know what kind.

I back up my shopping cart and amble toward the woman.

“Are you okay?” I ask as I approach. “You look a little overwhelmed.”

She glances up and away quickly as she tries to hide the fact she’s wiping her tears on the baby blanket while the kid keeps yelling. He can’t be more than a couple months old, and I recognize that cry. He’s hungry.

“Um, yes. No,” she says, shaking her head, not seeming to be able to make up her mind. So I do what my mama always taught me to do. I offer to help.

“Forget your money at home? I’m more than happy to buy you a can.”

“No,” she says quickly, then bites her lip while she visibly tries to regroup. “I can afford it. I just don’t know what kind he needs and there are so many.”

Fresh tears slide down her cheeks. I take a closer look at her. She is carrying a purse but no diaper bag, no bottle, no diapers.

“What kind has he had before?”

“I don’t know. Um… they didn’t tell me.”

“Who didn’t tell you?” I know I’m prying, but before I help her, I need to make sure I’m not getting involved in aiding a kidnapper or something. Houston is a big city. There are a lot of crazies out there.

“The social worker at the hospital.” I nod, feeling better about my involvement, but really curious as to what the story is now. “My sister… she was in a car accident, and she….” She bites her lip and holds back more tears. “Anyway, this is my nephew, and I have to take him home, and I don’t know what kind of formula he needs.” A sob escapes her.

I walk a short way down the aisle, take a quick look at the options, and snatch a bottle with a size 1 nipple, breaking it out of the package. Walking back to my cart for some water, I take a can of formula marketed for sensitive tummies. Opening the Ozarka, I make him a bottle.

“What are you doing?” she asks, looking around, obviously afraid of getting caught. “I haven’t paid for any of that.”

“But you’re going to, right?” She nods. “You’re at Walmart. No one cares. The security guard will make sure one of us pays for it on our way out.” She watches me like she’s trying to memorize how I’m doing it. “The thing about babies is they don’t know when they are about to get hungry, so when the hunger pangs hit, not only are they hungry, they get frantic. May I?” I reach to take the baby from her.

She eyes me for a minute then hands him over to me. I situate him in the crook of my arm and rub his lip with the tip of the bottle. That stops his cries almost immediately. He opens his mouth wide, latches on, and sucks like his life depends on it, which I guess it kind of does.

“How do you know you’re giving him the right kind?” she asks.

“It’s mostly trial and error,” I explain as I sway to music that isn’t there. “Especially if you don’t know if he has reflux or sensitivities. Since you weren’t sure, I opted to start with one designed for upset tummies. He seems to like it okay.”

She looks at the shelves without saying a word, like she’s thinking. I suspect it isn’t just formula she knows nothing about. “What kind of diapers should I get?”

I smile at her, feeling good I could put some of the random knowledge I’ve gained from having so many nieces and nephews to use. “For the most part, diapers are all the same until they’re mobile. How much does he weigh?”

She digs around in her purse. “I have the hospital discharge papers right here!” She pulls them out and reads through them. “Okay. It says he’s eleven pounds, thirteen ounces.”

“I would get size two. He’s still a little small for them, but my sister always says she’d rather have them in diapers too big than have a stack they grew out of. Says it’s like staring at a pile of money she’s not allowed to spend.”

“Okay. Do you mind if I put my stuff in your cart?” she asks sheepishly. “I promise I’m not asking you to pay for my stuff. I was trying so hard to figure out this formula thing, I forgot to get one on the way in.”

I smile at the baby, who is staring up at me, big blue eyes taking me in as he eats. “Sure. We’ll sort it all out after you get what you need.”

She thanks me, and we spend the next several minutes walking up and down the few baby aisles in the store. She asks my opinion on several items she might need. By the time she’s acquired all the basics, the baby has finished off a couple ounces and is ready to burp, so we sit down on a bench next to the closed pharmacy.

“How many kids do you have, anyway?” she asks, shocking me. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. I know more than most on the subject.

“I don’t have any kids,” I say as I sit the baby on my lap, hold his chin and cheeks in one hand and patting his back with the other. I smile when I see his face. The expressions babies make in this position always cracks me up.

She gets a confused look on her face. “Then how do you know so much about babies?”

“I come from a pretty big family,” I say with a chuckle. “Three sisters and two brothers. Plus I’ve been helping raise my nieces and nephews since I was a kid.”

“How many do you have?”

I look up at the ceiling as I try to remember everyone in order. “Let’s see… Erika has four, Marlene has two, Eduardo has four, Blanca has three, and Geovany doesn’t have any yet. So that’s… thirteen, I guess.”

“Wow.” She sounds sad. “Must be nice.”

“What about you?” I ask, making conversation while we wait for little man to burp. “Do you just have a sister?”

She takes a deep breath before answering. “She’s my only sibling. My only family actually. But she, um, didn’t survive the car accident.”

I still as I absorb what she’s saying. Her chin wobbles a bit, and I can tell she’s trying not to cry again.

Suddenly her confusion and hysteria make more sense. She isn’t only taking care of her nephew while her sister is in the hospital. She inherited him permanently. Worrying about my corner shot doesn’t seem nearly as important and life altering anymore.

“I’m so sorry. That… wow. That sucks.”

She gives me a small, shaky smile. “Yeah, it does. So now it’s just me and Chance here.” She smiles at him when he lets out a giant burp. “Oh!” she says with a giggle. “That was certainly a man-sized belch.”

“Boys definitely start young with that stuff. Wait until he’s about five. He’ll figure out how to burb on demand. You’ll love it.”

I hand the now-sleeping baby back to her and stand up. “Now that he’s content, and you have everything you need, shall we check out?”

We move toward the front of the store. “I guess it’s time to get this guy tucked in for the night. Huh,” she says thoughtfully. “I just realized my days of making midnight ice creams runs are over.”

I laugh in agreement. “Seems that way.” At the checkout line, I unload all the items on the conveyer belt and turn back to my cart. Looking down, I realize the only two items remaining are the giant pack of water and a box of condoms. I’m strangely embarrassed and suddenly glad the first impression I made was my knowledge of baby foods.

“Thanks so much for your help, uh….”