By Alejandro De La Garza
“Maricella, give me the baby.”
“No.” Maricella held him tighter.
Her mother, Helen, stood in the corner, twisting her hands. She started to speak, but Linda held up her hand. “Maricella,” Linda repeated, albeit more softly, “please give me the baby.”
“No,” Maricella said. “Give me a minute.”
Linda sighed heavily and traded glances with Helen. Both women looked at the floor. The crib sat nearby.
“Just a minute,” Maricella murmured. They’d named him Javier, after his father. They’d only been back from the hospital one day. She liked the way the baby held onto his daddy’s finger. Then, Javier, Sr., rushed away. She didn’t know why. Maybe he didn’t feel comfortable with the baby. Not yet, Maricella told herself. But, he will. He’ll be the daddy he wants to be.
“Nine pounds, wow!” the doctor said. “You had a monster!”
No, she thought, I had an angel. His hair was thick and auburn, a few strands reaching to his shoulders. So much hair; already so much hair. “Just like his daddy,” her mother-in-law said. “He had hair down to his shoulders when he was born, too.”
She held his hands, one at a time. She liked the feel of his soft skin; a baby’s skin. Like silk.
All the men were elsewhere in the house. I guess none of them really feel too comfortable around babies, she told herself. Oh, well. I’m here. Little Javier knows I’m here. He almost wasn’t here.
It had been the scariest feeling. Pregnant. A simple word with big implications. A word like no other – just like the feeling. They were both scared – her and Javier. Are we really ready? Do we have enough money? Do we have enough room? Do we have enough time? Too many questions. Yes, they were both scared, but only for a little while. Then, it began to settle into their minds. But, it was still a little frightening.
She remembers biting Javier’s hand. He’d reached up to caress her hair – or something like that – and she thought he was trying to cover her mouth. She was what – seven or eight months along? He had tried to cover her mouth, she realized later, because she was yelling at him. It had been so hard for her and her small body. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
“You’re going to have a difficult time getting pregnant,” the doctor had told Maricella. Her cycles were irregular; her stomach muscles were weak; she was over thirty. “Not impossible,” the doctor added with a smile, as if trying to show some enthusiasm, “but difficult.” The first two miscarriages had been bloody and painful. The third wasn’t so bad. I guess she knows what she’s talking about, Maricella had said, thinking of the doctor. But, I’ll prove her wrong. And, she did.
It was so hard. “You’re body will change like nothing else,” her mother had said; more of a warning than advice. The nausea, the hemorrhoids, the swollen ankles – everything. “And, you’re husband will start looking at other women, too.”
“I thought they did that anyway,” Maricella laughed.
She remembered that one night – or early in the morning – when she woke up gasping.
“What’s wrong?!” Javier asked, startled. He was ready to head to the hospital.
“I’m having trouble breathing.” She didn’t expect that. The baby pressing up against her lungs, as if trying to be born from her mouth.
“That happens sometimes,” the doctor said with her reassuring smile. “Try to sleep sitting up. It may be hard at first, but you’ll get used to it.”
She really didn’t. Has that woman ever had a baby of her own?
Linda edged closer. Her favorite aunt had been more than just a concerned relative; she’d been a nursemaid and confidant. She’d become a big sister. Maricella didn’t understand why she wanted to hold the baby so badly. Put him down for a nap? Her mother remained in the corner of the room with knotted hands. “Maricella,” Linda said, “give me the baby.”
She saw Javier at the doorway. His eyes looked moist. What’s wrong with you? “Please give her the baby.”
“No.” He’s sleeping. Can’t they see that?
“Maricella…please.” Linda again. “Let me have the baby.”
“No! Why?”
“Maricella,” Javier muttered.
“Stay there,” Linda said to him, as he took a step forward.
She could see her father behind Javier. And, someone else.
“Maricella, please.” Linda stepped forward, hands outstretched.
What was she trying to do?! “He’s sleeping.”
“No, no. Please give me the baby.”
“No! He’s sleeping!” Good God! Surely, she’d seen a sleeping baby before!
“Maricella.” Linda’s voice was more firm, demanding. “Give me the baby!”
“No! Why do you keep saying that?! He’s sleeping!”
Her mother finally moved forward.
Javier came into the room.
“Give me the baby.” Linda’s hands had reached under her arms.
Oh God! “No!”
Javier’s hands landed softly atop her shoulders.
“You need to give me the baby,” Linda said, looking into her eyes.
“No!”
But, Linda had grabbed him.
Javier wrapped his arms around her torso.
“What’s wrong with you?!” Maricella had never screamed at Linda.
Linda’s gaze didn’t waver – but her voice suddenly trembled. “Maricella, for God’s sake!”
“What are you doing?!”
“Maricella, please!” Linda shouted back. “He’s dead!”
© 2010
Chief Writing Wolf 
