by Lexie Ray
“Can we see our grandson?” Mr. Paxton asked. “Please.”
“You can see him just fine from where you are,” I said coldly. “Now, please leave. I’m going to raise this baby the right way and better than you folks ever could.”
“You heard my granddaughter,” Gran said. “Now leave, before we call security.”
The atmosphere in the room brightened as soon as the Paxton’s left, making all of us relax. Trevor nursed easier, and the medical personnel on hand started chatting again.
“In laws,” Gran announced grimly, drawing some titters from the doctors.
We’d been through a lot already, I realized as I gazed down at my baby. And we still had a long way to go in order to be all right. But there was nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for the bundle I was holding. I’d do anything for this baby, my little treasure. My Trevor.
Chapter Three
I was able to pick up my breakfast shift again at the restaurant I’d been working at while in school. Gran watched Trevor while I was gone, which was invaluable. I looked at some day care services around the area to see if I could give Gran a break, but they were exorbitant. I’d never be able to afford sending Trevor there, even if I devoted my entire paycheck to it.
I even got lucky and was eventually hired back at the mall. It was hard to be away from my baby all day, but I knew he was in Gran’s capable hands. Since she was too old and ill to work, I had to be the one to earn the money we needed to survive.
I pumped my breasts and made sure that Gran always had enough milk on hand for Trevor. He had a thriving appetite and grew quickly, which we both liked to see. Nothing made me happier than my little treasure.
Still, I stupidly clung to the idea that Ben would come back to me, sweep me off my feet and promise to be the father I knew he could be. I’d seen Ben be great in the face of adversity. I only wished he would snap out of whatever spell his parents had him under and come see us. I stared for hours at the cell phone the Paxton’s had given us, wondering if he might figure out the number to call and get back in touch with me.
Weeks turned into months, and I lost hope of that happening. Besides, there was too much to occupy myself with.
I had to budget each paycheck carefully, measuring it against Gran’s pension to ensure we had enough money for all of the necessary supplies and appointments.
There had been no more contact with the Paxton’s since we’d banished them from the hospital room, which was a double-edged sword. We were free to raise Trevor however we liked, and free from their judgment, but they’d also withdrawn all assistance. I had follow-up doctor’s appointments that our insurance wouldn’t cover since the doctors weren’t in our plan, and Trevor had appointments, too. I made sure that he always had enough to eat, but I skipped meals in order to stretch our budget so that the baby and Gran could eat.
It wasn’t too long after that that my milk dried up, and we had to add formula to the expenses.
The restaurant was understanding and extended my hours so that I could earn a little more, but we were barely staying afloat.
Then, Gran got very sick and everything went to hell.
I found her when I got home from the mall, sprawled out on the floor in the living room and Trevor wailing in his highchair. I felt incredibly guilty—how long had they been like this? But the mashed food on Trevor’s plastic plate was still warm, so it couldn’t have been that long.
“Gran?” I said, leaning down and putting my hands over her back. “Gran? You all right?”
She groaned and I knew she wasn’t. I also knew that I wasn’t going to be able to get her downstairs and to a taxi by myself—not with the baby. I couldn’t leave him alone.
The ambulance ride would ruin us. I hated myself for thinking about it in those terms, but it was true. It might get Gran to help now, but a month from now, when the bill would come through, we wouldn’t be able to pay it. Something would have to suffer for us to be able to pay it—rent, maybe, or electricity—and once you got behind on that you’d spend the rest of your life playing catch-up.
So it really was my last possible option when I picked up that cell phone and dialed Miles.
“Miss Shimmy?” he said, his voice pleasant. “What a surprise. I hope you’re doing well.”
“I need your help, Miles,” I said, my voice quickly rising in panic.
“Where are you and what do you need?”
“I’m at my Gran’s apartment,” I said. “She’s collapsed. I need you to come and help me get her down to your car so we can take her to the hospital.”
“Wouldn’t an ambulance be better?” he asked, his voice worried.
“We can’t afford it,” I said. “Please. You’re our only hope. I can’t do it alone, not with the baby.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I got Trevor cleaned up and into a warm outfit, then tried to raise Gran.
“Gran,” I said, rubbing her back and wondering if it was safe to turn her over. “Gran. Miles is coming with the car to take you to the hospital. Everything’s going to be just fine.”
She groaned again, and I rolled her over. She’d broken her glasses in her tumble, so I removed each half and set them on the little coffee table. Maybe I’d be able to tape them for her. Maybe we wouldn’t have to get her new ones.
The door buzzed and I slapped the button to admit Miles.
“Help is coming, Gran,” I said, trying to keep the desperation from my voice. Trevor always seemed to pick up on my distress, and it made him a grumpy baby. I had to stay positive for him.
After a knock on the door, I pulled it open to admit Miles.
“Thank you so much for coming,” I gushed, following him inside. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know who else to call.”
“You called the right person,” he said. “Don’t worry. We’ll get your Gran to the hospital.”
Miles bent down and easily scooped Gran up into his arms as if she were a small child. She’d always had such a big presence that I’d never really realized how petite she was.
“Are you coming?” Miles asked over his shoulder as he carried Gran out the door.
“Of course,” I said, grabbing Trevor and my purse before locking the apartment door behind us.
The car ride was quick, and there were orderlies to help us once we pulled into the emergency entrance.
“Go with her,” Miles said. “I’ll park the car and meet you inside.”
I followed Gran’s gurney into the intensive care unit. Doctors worked around us, checking Gran’s pulse and breathing.
“Ma’am, you need to take your baby and go to the waiting room,” a nurse said.
“This is my Gran,” I said brokenly, watching the doctor’s work on her. “She raised me. She was a mother to me.”
“We’ll let you know if there are any changes,” the nurse promised, escorting me out.
Trevor started to whimper and I shored up my emotions, determined not to let them affect by baby.
“Everything’s going to be all right, treasure,” I assured him, bouncing him on my hip. “My little treasure. Trevor, my treasure.”
My stream of nonsense soothed us both, and Trevor nuzzled at my shoulder. He was such a sweet baby.
Somebody behind me coughed and I turned around, afraid I was blocking the view of the television or something.
It was Mr. and Mrs. Paxton.
“What are you all doing here?” I asked, my arms involuntarily tightening around Trevor.
“You called our butler,” Mr. Paxton pointed out. “We could ask you the same thing.”
“Is the baby all right?” Mrs. Paxton demanded.
“The baby is doing just fine,” I said, cradling him. “It’s—it’s Gran. That’s why I called Miles. I didn’t—we didn’t—have any other option.”
“Now are you starting to understand?” Mr. Paxton asked. “You can’t raise a baby like this. It’s only a matter of time before something else goes wrong. What would you have done if you didn’t h
ave that cell phone, that life line to grab?”
“I would’ve called for an ambulance,” I said.
Mr. Paxton shook his head at me. “If you could’ve called an ambulance, you would have,” he said. “You said that this was your only option.”
“If we were raising that child, there wouldn’t be any desperate options,” Mrs. Paxton said. “Admit it. We have resources that you could never even dream of having.”
The woman was almost right, but she was forgetting about one important thing.
“You can’t buy love, Mrs. Paxton,” I said. “And babies need love above all things.”
“You’d be surprised,” she said, her fangs out.
The nurse from the intensive care unit reappeared with a doctor.
“Shonda Crosby?”
“Yes, that’s me,” I said, walking quickly over. “My Gran—how is she?”
The doctor’s eyes told me all I needed to know, and I pressed my fist to my mouth to keep from weeping in front of my baby.
“It was a massive stroke,” he explained as I rocked both Trevor and myself. “The bleeding on her brain was just too much. Even though you got her to the hospital fast, it wasn’t fast enough to do anything. I’m sorry. She’s dead.”
The only thing keeping me together was the child I held. I had to be strong for him. I could never stop being strong for him.
“What do I do now?” I asked, the question loaded with implications. What did I do with Gran’s body? How did I pay for arrangements? Who would watch Trevor for me while I worked? How would I possibly earn enough money to pay for rent and food?
“A representative of a funeral home stipulated in your grandmother’s will is on his way,” the doctor said. “You’ll speak with him about the arrangements.”
I didn’t think I could do this, but I had to. There just wasn’t any other choice.
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll wait for him here.”
I was surprised to see the Paxton’s still there when I turned around.
“We’re sorry for your loss,” Mr. Paxton said.
“A tragedy, truly,” Mrs. Paxton said.
All of their good breeding couldn’t make lies ring true. They didn’t give a damn that Gran had just died.
“Thank you,” I said again. “Now please go.”
“Your grandmother was helping you with that baby,” Mrs. Paxton said. “Think, girl. What are you going to do now?”
“I’ll find a way,” I said stubbornly. “It’ll be just fine.”
“And what happens the next time you don’t have any options?” Mr. Paxton demanded. “What are you going to let slip that your child could benefit from? Healthy food? A safe place to live? Constant supervision?”
“I can do it,” I said.
Mrs. Paxton clucked at me. “We’ll see,” she said. “Well. You know how to get a hold of us. And we’ll be waiting. It’s only a matter of time before you realize that you aren’t fit to be a mother.”
That raised my hackles and I would’ve beaned that evil woman right in the middle of the forehead with her stupid cell phone except that I was holding my son. He didn’t need to see me at my worst.
“Goodbye,” I said instead, turning my back to them.
I had Gran cremated and spread her ashes down by the water’s edge. She’d always loved the beach, even if we didn’t go there very often. She’d talk about her childhood, and walking with her various beaus over the sand.
I hoped it put her at peace to have her resting place there.
I lost my job at the restaurant after I didn’t show up following Gran’s death. They’d already been so accommodating that my “latest crisis” just sounded like an excuse. It was just as well, I supposed. I didn’t have any way for Trevor to be looked after anyways.
The job at the mall was a little more understanding, letting me keep Trevor in his carrier as I worked. I could be right there if he started to fuss, but he was more entertained with his various toys, or looking at all the shining earrings or other accessories I was stocking.
Thus began the slow death of our little family.
I thought I could make it work with just the baby and me, but I was wrong.
Without Gran’s pension—and Gran’s ability to watch the baby while I worked—we struggled.
I was forced to move into a tiny studio apartment—not much more than a shoebox with a bathroom—when I had to make the decision on whether to miss rent or miss buying Trevor diapers and formula. I’d given up on eating long ago, and subsisted on whatever I could find—free coffee, some days. Other days, less than that.
Shit really hit the fan the day that the corporate manager of the shop I worked at in the mall found out that the local manager had allowed me to keep my baby at work. I don’t know who ratted us out, but I was out of a job and incredibly desperate.
I tried everything to get a job at a school or day care, something that would also benefit Trevor. But there were no openings anywhere, or only at places where I couldn’t bring my baby to work with me.
During this entire time, a niggling thought wouldn’t leave me alone. It was the idea that the Paxton’s were right, that I didn’t have any options left except for them. Though I never used it, I kept the cell phone they gave us charged, the weight of it in my purse sometimes unbearable. That possibility was always with me. What if they were right? What if I couldn’t raise this baby? What if their money outweighed my love?
The first night that Trevor went to bed wailing because his belly was empty would be the last time, I vowed.
It became clear to me what I had to do.
My love for my baby was so great that I had to let him go to the people who would be able to give him the things that I couldn’t, even though I tried so hard.
I rocked Trevor as he fitfully whined and nibbled at my fingers. My baby was hungry, and I had to do whatever I had to in order to see him fed.
I dialed the number I knew so well on the cell phone, but it wasn’t Miles who answered.
“You had a good run,” the voice said. “But now you know that there was only one way this was going to end.”
“Ben?” My heart stopped at the familiar voice. “Where have you been?”
“Getting an education,” he said. “Preparing myself to succeed in my family’s business. Preparing our home to welcome my son.”
“Not your son,” I said. “My son.”
“You’re doing a good thing,” he said. “I want our son to be well cared for. You can’t do that anymore, can you, Shimmy?”
“No,” I said honestly, my voice raw. “I tried, but I can’t. I need to do what’s best for my son, even—”
My voice broke with emotion, and I found I couldn’t finish my statement. Even if it wasn’t good for me. I didn’t want to give up my son, but I didn’t want him to suffer because of my pride and stubbornness. He needed to be with someone who could provide for him, and as hard as I tried, it wasn’t me.
“I’ll send Miles for you in the car,” Ben said. “Don’t bother packing any of my son’s things. He’ll have better ones here.”
That stung, and I hung up the phone. I bathed and dressed Trevor in his finest things—little corduroy coveralls and a plaid shirt, and he looked at me.
“You gonna remember your mama, treasure,” I told him. “I’m your mama, and I love you. This isn’t forever. This is just temporary. I’m going to save up enough money to bring you back to me.”
He looked at me, and I willed my baby to understand me. I needed him to know that I wasn’t abandoning him. I wouldn’t do that to him, not like my parents did to me. His mama was going to raise him right. He’d be caring and responsible and smart and respectful toward women.
But right now … right now, my treasure was going to have to live with his daddy.
“And your daddy is a good man, if he wants to be,” I told Trevor as we rode down the elevator. “It’s your grandparents that are the problem. You watch out for them, treasure. Don’t trust
them for an instant. Mama knows this.”
Miles was standing outside of the car when we reached the curb.
“Miss Shimmy,” he said, his voice sad.
“Miles,” I said. “I never thanked you for what you did for my grandmother. I really appreciate it.”
“It was simply my duty, Miss Shimmy,” he said. “Here. Let’s buckle your son into this car seat.”
“That’s nice,” I said, admiring the device. “Is that new?”
“Yes, it is,” Miles said, fastening the straps. “I just purchased it. It’s top of the line.”
“I’m sure,” I said, starting to get into the car.
“Miss Shimmy?”
“Yes?”
“The Paxton’s have asked that I take only Trevor back,” he said, unable to meet my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Miles,” I said. “But I’m not just going to put my son in a car by himself.”
“You can trust me, Miss Shimmy,” Miles protested.
“It’s the Paxton’s I can’t trust,” I said, holding my hands up. “You can tell them I forced you. I don’t care. But I’m going. I’ll deal with the consequences.”
Miles let me get into the car, resigned to the fact that I wasn’t about to change my mind. Trevor enjoyed the car ride, cooing and pointing at things as we continued on our journey.
The trip was over too quickly for my liking, and I insisted on carrying my son.
The Paxton’s were at the door, waiting for us with a scowl.
“I told him I wouldn’t just send Trevor off,” I said. “You can blame me, not Miles.”
“Give us the baby,” Mrs. Paxton said imperiously, holding her arms out.
“Not yet,” I said. “First, you get to listen to me and listen to me well.”
“We’re listening.”
“This isn’t permanent,” I said fiercely. “I’m going to get a good job, now, and start saving money. As soon as I get things together again, I’m coming back for him.”
“How could you ever think that the pennies you’d earn would even come close to meeting this child’s needs?” Mrs. Paxton asked. “Face it. You can never give him what we can. Never.”