like she knew it to be true. Like she could see the end of the story and she knew it was a good story with a happy ending. Likeshe was amused at my distress because she knew it would all work out.
Mona was very busy with her nurse’s duties. She bustled about the delivery room and talked constantly. She gossiped about famous people like Martin Lawrence and Denzel Washington. She said she wanted to have them both as lovers: the first to make her feel good with laughter, the second to make her feel good “any damn way he wants to!” She talked about the food she cooked at home and how maybe I could come over for a holiday dinner with my baby after I got out of the Center. She said the white nurses and doctors gave her grief because she got too close to the patients. At this she huffed and said, “Shoooot, girl, you cain’t get any closer to a person than when you help bring they baby into the world! Got your hands up in they business, that’s how close you git! It don’t make no sense
not
to get to know them and let them know you.”
Then Mona sat down on the edge of my bed and took my hands in hers again. She said, “Shavonne, I am a big black woman from South Carolina. Where I come from, there’s plenty of girls your age who make babies. Sometimes they married. Not often, but sometimes. And sometimes they been raped. And sometimes they been screwin’ with boys because they wants to.” It seemed like the more she talked to me, the heavier her accent became. I don’t know if it was from the medication I had been given, but it was kind of surreal. Mona’s words and voice hypnotized me. I felt warm and safe and happy.
Before I went into labor, she said, “Sugar, you listen careful to Mona now. Listen careful and remember these words. Young child, you are special because of what you been through … and also because of what you’re gonna do in your life. I see it in your face. You’re gonna have lots more troubles for sure, but I see that you’re gonna grow up to be a strong and righteous woman. Strong and righteous! And you got to remember that this child that’s gettin’ ready to meet you is part of you. To hell with all them men that call theyselves fathers. Sperm don’t mean shit! Every man’s got it. This one is
your
baby. God gave her to
you
. You hear me? God gave
you
this baby girl. Now try your best to take care of her. And if you cain’t take care of her, then find somebody good who will.”
The strangest part is that I didn’t know I was having a girl ahead of time. I didn’t think Mona knew either, but I guess she did. She probably had access to some records or tests. But sometimes I like to think that she just
knew
because of something deeper. Maybe something more spiritual. Like Mona is my protector. A large black woman who is strong and righteous, like she said I’d be, but also soft and gentle. I like to think that she is still out there somewhere and that I might see her again. I still have fantasies about this.
I imagine that I wait for her outside the hospital one day. She comes out after her shift, tired, heading for the subway. I come up behind her and call her name. When she turns, I say, “Hey, Mona, you remember me?” She sees me, smiles, then takes me in her arms and holds me sotight that I can’t help but feel that everything will be okay. From this point on, it will be okay. At the end of the fantasy she says something like, “Girl, where you been? How many years gone by and I been waitin’ all along! Now let’s go home.”
29
I ’m brought to answer another call from Susan, the DSS worker. After some small talk she says I’ve got to appear in court just before my eighteenth birthday. It’s time to decide what to do with Jasmine. Guardianship, they call it.
I don’t have much to say to Susan. The silence makes her nervous, I can tell. She doesn’t want to end the conversation on a bad note and asks stupid questions.
How’s school? Is it getting
Susan Meissner
Lawrence Santoro
Emily Cyr
Alice Adams
Bertrice Small
Elisabeth Naughton
Nora Weaving
Matthew Burkey
Laura Dower
Erica Chilson