Married Men (42 page)

Authors: Carl Weber

BOOK: Married Men

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“Can’t you hear him? He’s screaming!” I yelled. I gave her an angry look but she ignored me and continued to watch TV until a commercial came on.

“It’s good for him to cry a little bit, Allen. You don’t wanna spoil him, do you?” I rolled my eyes at her and quickly walked toward the nursery and my screaming child. I’m sorry, I love Rose, but there has to be something wrong with a woman who can just sit around and listen to her newborn child screaming at the top of his lungs in the next room.

“Hey there, little man. Don’t cry. Daddy’s here.” I gently picked up my son and kissed him. His entire face was a beet red and he felt a little warm, but I figured it was because he was crying. I reached into his crib and picked up his bottle, placing the nipple in his mouth. He calmed down right away. He was just hungry. I walked back in the living room holding him. “Would this have been so hard to do?” I had sarcasm in my voice, which made Rose roll her eyes again.

“Please, Allen, ain’t nobody holdin’ no baby all damn day. Besides I got a headache.” Rose’s voice and body language showed all kinda attitude. “That little nigga cried all day long, and now he has the nerve to stop when you come home. You need to put his ass down. That’s why he’s so damn spoiled, ’cause you and your mama always picking him up.” She sucked her teeth and both of us made evil eyes at each other. I didn’t like this side of my wife. I didn’t like it at all, and lately I was seeing more and more of it.

“You know what, Rose? You’re ...” I stopped myself and was about go back in the nursery to finish feeding my child when I spotted a small suitcase lying by the far end of the sofa. I saw Rose step in front of it, trying to conceal it from me.
Lord, please don’t tell me she going somewhere,
I thought. Especially since I had to go to work in the morning and she was supposed to take Jonathan to a pediatrician’s appointment. He was only three weeks old and had already missed his first appointment. From the message the doctor had left, she’d better not miss this one.

“Going somewhere?”

Rose looked down at the suitcase sheepishly as she answered. “Well, yeah, a lot of the girls from the job are going to Philly to see the D’Angelo concert, and well, Tanya got me a ticket. So I figured I’d go too. It’s only for a couple of days.” She sounded nervous.

“A couple of days?” I yelled, looking at her like she was crazy. “What about Jonathan? Who’s gonna watch him? And just when did you plan on telling me this? After you left?” I paced the floor as I held my son.

“I’m telling you now. And don’t worry about Jonathan. He’ll be all right. Get your mother to watch him. She’s the one who wanted a grandbaby so bad, isn’t she? Or can’t she miss
Smackdown
one week?”

“Smackdown?
You not coming back till after Thursday? I thought you said a couple of days.”

“What I meant to say is I’m not coming back for a week.”

“A week! Are you crazy, Rose? You gonna leave your newborn son for a week? What kind of mother are you?” I stopped pacing and stood staring at her. Yeah, that’s right. I didn’t like arguing, but we were about to have one hell of an argument.

“What do you mean what kind of mother am I? You act like I’m leavin’ him alone. I’m not leaving him alone, Allen. I’m leavin’ him with you! You are his daddy, aren’t you?” She shook her finger in my face and rolled her head around with attitude. Then out of nowhere her stem face turned to a sweet smile, and that scared me. She was like Jekyll and Hyde.

“Look, Allen, I need a break. I’ve been putting up with this boy screaming every time I put him down for two weeks. Now you can be with the program or not, but I’m leaving.” She smiled and kissed my cheek, then picked up her bag.

“You’re really leaving? What about the baby? Doesn’t he have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow?”

“Oh, yeah, he does, doesn’t he?” She looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, well, I guess you better cancel it or call in sick tomorrow.” I gave her a look of disbelief. Her response was to give me her best puppy-dog face. “Look, honey, I love you and I’ll call you when I get to Philly, okay?” She walked out that door, and all I could do was watch in disbelief. She hadn’t even kissed Jonathan.

The next morning I called in sick to work. Jonathan’s doctor’s appointment was at eleven o‘clock, so I swung by Ma’s for breakfast around eight. Jonathan had been acting a little cranky and I wasn’t sure if he was sick or just missed Rose. I was hoping Ma might have one of those old-fashioned remedies for calming a baby, and of course she did. It was called a grandmother’s love. Ma took Jonathan from me the minute I walked in the door. She rocked and kissed and fed that boy, then gave him a bath in the kitchen sink. By the time she got through with him it was ten o’clock, and he was dressed and ready to go to the doctor, cooing in her arms.

When we arrived at the doctor’s office, I don’t know why but I had this uneasy feeling, and the receptionist and nurse behind the counter didn’t make me feel any better. They kept staring at Ma and me like they knew something we didn’t. To be honest, I was afraid child welfare was gonna pop up on us at any minute and take Jonathan because he was three weeks old and hadn’t had any of his shots or been to one doctor’s appointment yet. I found out a few minutes later, though, that wasn’t the case at all.

“Mr. Jackson, I’m Dr. Gerba. Why don’t we talk in my office?” The doctor, an average-looking, clean-shaven white man with a receding hairline walked toward a door, gesturing for Ma and me to follow.

We did, and when he closed the door, first thing outta Ma’s mouth was, “Why you got us in your office and not in the examination room?” Dr. Gerba walked behind his desk and sat down.

“Well to be honest with you, Miss ...” Gerba glanced at Ma.

“Mrs. Jackson. Mrs. Audry Jackson. I’m Jonathan’s nana.”

“Okay, well, Mrs. Jackson, we needed to talk about Jonathan before I examine him.”

“Talk about him? What about him?” I asked sternly. If this fool doctor thought he was gonna get me to sit around his office while some nurse reported me and had someone take away my son, he had another thing coming.

“Mr. Jackson, your son has sickle-cell anemia.”

“Lawd have mercy. This can’t be!” Ma shouted. I didn’t say a word. I was still trying to comprehend what the doctor had just told me. How could Jonathan have sickle-cell? He was a normal baby, a perfect baby.

“Where is this coming from? You haven’t even examined him yet.” I gave the doctor a suspicious gaze.

“When your son was born, the hospital ran different blood tests on him just like they do all newborns. We tried to explain to your wife that we really needed her to come in right away when she missed her first appointment, but she just kept saying we’d talk when she brought Jonathan in for his checkup in a week. Of course, you know she missed that appointment, too. I wish we could have told her over the phone but it’s against hospital policy.”

I glanced at Ma and tears were running down her face. I took a deep breath and tried to hold back my own tears.

“Is he gonna be all right? He’s not gonna die, is he?” I looked the doctor directly in the eyes, terrified of what his answer might be.

“Chances are he will be fine. Matter of fact, I had two sickle-cell patients who recently have become parents themselves. Things have changed a lot in the last twenty years and treatment has come a long way. Sickle-cell’s a painful disease, but it’s no longer a death sentence for a child like it once was.” The doctor smiled kindly. “Your son’s going to be fine, Mr. Jackson, but his health will require some vigilance on your part. We’d like to start him on penicillin to keep infection down. Maybe have him come into the hospital a few days to run some tests.”

“Okay, Doctor. I’m putting my trust and faith in you.” I didn’t know what else to do at this point. I had to believe that this man would help my son lead a normal life.

He nodded as he began to explain to us exactly what sickle-cell was and how it could be treated. After about a forty-minute conversation and examination, Dr. Gerba suggested that we take Jonathan right over to the Long Island Jewish Hospital. Jonathan’s low-grade fever and crankiness were telltale signs of infection, the doctor told us. Jonathan really needed to be placed on intravenous antibiotics to prevent any serious complications.

I watched those doctors and nurse at that hospital stick and probe my son for hours before they finally stopped around 8 P.M. They had poor Jonathan looking like something out of a
Star Trek
movie, he had so many different tubes and wires coming out of his arms and legs. It felt like they were sticking me every time they jabbed something into him. In my life I’d never imagined anything more painful than standing back helpless while your child is suffering.

Later that night I came home to pack up some clothes and a few toys for Jonathan. Ma was at the hospital with him, so I decided to stick around the house for a few hours hoping Rose would call. She’d called twice while we were gone but never left a number where she could be reached. I can’t tell you how frustrating it was to have my son sitting in that fucking hospital with sickle-cell anemia and not being able to contact his mother. For the first time since we’d been married I was starting to understand why people thought Rose was such a selfish bitch. I mean, what kinda woman would just disappear without leaving a number where she could be reached when she had a three-week-old baby at home?

I slammed my hand down on the coffee table. I couldn’t take it anymore. What I really needed was someone to talk to, someone who would listen to me and not be judgmental. I wanted to call Kyle or Wil, but that wouldn’t work. As much as I loved them, they wouldn’t understand. Especially Kyle. Lately he couldn’t stand to hear Rose’s name. So I decided to call Cinnamon.

I went into the bedroom and placed my sock drawer on the bed. Then I bent down and reached into the space where the drawer had been. I pulled out the Express Mail envelope Cinnamon had sent, emptying the contents onto the bed. I stared at the two smaller envelopes that fell out. I was about to read Cinnamon’s letter again, but the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Allen, it’s Rose. Where’ve you been, baby? I’ve been calling you all day.” Would you believe she sounded sincere about that shit? “I even called you mother’s house.”

“Where have I been? Where have I been? I’ve been at the fucking hospital! That’s where I’ve been!” I’d never been so upset in my life. “Where the hell have you been? Jonathan’s sick. He needs his mother.”

“Oh, please, Allen, don’t start. I already have a headache, okay? You gonna tell me you can’t handle a little cold for a few days?”

“He doesn’t have a cold, Rose. He has sickle-cell anemia.” The line was silent and I expected her to cry or yell or something, but she didn’t. I was floored by how nonchalant her response was.

“Don’t worry, Allen. My cousin has sickle-cell, and she’s fine.” Rose was actually taking the news like it really was just a temporary cold. “You didn’t call my parents, did you?”

“No, I haven’t called anyone. I just got home.” She probably didn’t want her parents to know her son was flawed.

“Good, why don’t we wait till I get home in a few days? Then we’ll call my folks. There’s no need to get them upset over something like this.”

“In a few days! Are you fucking crazy? You better bring you ass home tonight, Rose! Do you hear me? Tonight!”

“Look, Allen, the concert’s not ‘til tomorrow night and I’ve never seen D’Angelo. Jonathan’s going to have sickle-cell all his life, but I’m only going to have one chance to see D’Angelo. So I’ll see you the day after tomorrow, okay?” Before I could reply, she hung up.

“Fuck!” I slammed down the phone.

She’d done it again. She’d left me without a way to get in touch with her. I slammed my hand down on the bed, jostling the envelopes that were still lying unopened.

Cinnamon would never do anything like this
, I thought as I pulled out the photos. I looked through them until I found the one of her and her son.
That should be my family
. I was really feeling sorry for myself. Who would have thought that so soon after my marriage I’d be longing for a life other than the one I had? I loved Jonathan. I loved Rose, too, but this wasn’t the family I’d envisioned when I got married.

I glanced at the clock. It was a little past eleven. Too late to call just anyone, but Cinnamon had said I could call her at any time. I dialed her number.

“Hello?” her voice was groggy.

“Cinnamon? This is Allen.”

“I know your voice, Allen. How you doing?” I could tell she was happy to hear from me. Her voice was no longer groggy and it made me smile in spite of the hell my life was at that moment.

“Not so good,” I replied.

“Allen, what’s wrong?”

“What isn’t wrong?” was my reply. “My wife gave birth to a little boy the same day I talked to you.”

“Congratulations. But what could be wrong with that?” She paused, and then it must have dawned on her. “Oh, God. He’s all right, isn’t he?”

“No, he’s not. I just found out today he’s got sickle-cell.”

“Oh, Allen, I am so sorry.”