27. Four
Four
Corinthians had her baby. From outside her room, I watched her through the glass door as she sat asleep on the couch, facing the window.
I was on my way back to Arizona when Trey texted and said she was on her way to the hospital to have her baby.
I hit a U-turn in the middle of the street and floored it.
I sat in the waiting area by the front entrance, waiting.
For what, I wasn’t sure. But I knew I couldn’t leave.
Not until I knew that she and the baby were okay.
A little while ago, I watched her grandmother leave; she was on the phone telling someone that she was going to go home, shower, and come back.
Corinthians had her baby and they were good.
I just needed to see them with my own eyes before I left.
“Anytime something major happens in her life, you show up,” Psalms said from behind me. I looked over my shoulder at her and nodded. “I meant what I said last time about killing you.”
“I know,” I said, turning back to look at Corinthians. “I’m good with my own death as long as I know she’s happy.”
“She’s good.”
“Then, kill me.”
“I have a feeling eventually I will have to,” she said, coming to stand next to me. She touched the glass and smiled. “Do you want to see him?”
“She had a boy?” I asked. It was something about Cori being a boy mom that made me smile. She would’ve been a great girl mom, but having a boy would heal something in her.
“Yeah, Madea named him Judah,” Psalms answered, then nodded. “He’s perfect.”
I glanced over at Psalms to see her smiling. “How do you go from threatening to kill me to offering to see her baby?” I chuckled.
“I’m a complicated creature.” Psalms shrugged. “But I also know that you are stubborn and won't leave until you see him.”
“I didn’t plan on seeing him, just wanted to make sure they were okay.”
She looked at me, her head tilted to the side like her sisters did when she was trying to figure something out.
“Give me a second,” she finally said. I stepped back, and she pointed to a spot next to the door that would allow me to see into the room, but Corinthians wouldn’t be able to see me.
When I moved, she nodded, then opened the door.
“Sissy, the nurses need to see Judah for a weight check. I’ll be right back. ”
Corinthians didn’t move or respond. She took a deep breath, and Psalms quickly took the baby from the room. She pushed his bassinet outside the door, then closed it.
He was small, smaller than I expected, but I’d never been around babies before to compare. He was wrapped in a blanket and wearing a little hat. He looked like what I imagined Corinthians to look like as a baby.
“Thank you,” I said, looking down at him. The same feeling of protectiveness I felt for Corinthians I felt for Judah.
“You’re welcome,” Psalms said.
I gently traced my finger down Judah's cheek, being mindful of how delicate his skin was, then turned and walked away.
Corinthians had a baby, a little boy; his name was Judah, and we shared the same birthday, April 4th.