Chapter 37 Zainab #2
I was waiting until I got out of jail to deal with him, but now my sister was dating him.
The memories of the day I was arrested at my grand opening flooded me.
Justice had called out across the room—“Aye yo Thad”—and my whole world had tilted because I KNEW that face.
I’d seen it before. In an alley. Standing over a body.
In my nightmares, every single night for five years.
The man who killed Zahara.
The man who murdered my sister was DATING my other sister.
“Z? You still there?”
“What did you—” I tried to speak, tried to ask her to repeat herself, tried to make sense of what she’d just said. “Mehar, did you say—”
A cramp hit me so hard I doubled over.
Not like the others. This one was different. Sharper. Deeper. Like something inside me was tearing itself apart.
“Z? Zainab, you okay?”
“I’m—” I gasped, one hand pressed to my belly, the other tightly gripping the phone. My mind was splitting in two—half of it screaming about Thad, about the danger Mehar was in, about the monster sharing her bed. The other half consumed by pain so intense I couldn’t breathe. “I’m fine, I just—”
Another contraction. This one ripped a guttural scream out of me, echoing through the phone bank. Several women turned to look. Someone said something I couldn’t hear.
“ZAINAB! What’s happening?! Are you okay?!”
I wanted to answer her. Wanted to tell her to get away from Thad.
Wanted to scream that the man she thought was keeping her safe was the same man who’d taken everything from us.
Who’d killed our sister and left her body for me to find.
Who was now in Mehar’s bed, in her life, probably watching her sleep and remembering that he got away with it.
But I couldn’t say any of it.
Because that’s when I felt it.
A rush of warmth between my legs. Soaking through the thin prison pants. Pooling on the floor beneath me.
My water.
My water just broke.
“No,” I whispered, staring down at the puddle spreading around my feet. “No, no, no. Not here. Not now. Please, God, not HERE—”
The phone slipped from my fingers. I heard it clatter against the wall, heard Mehar’s panicked voice still calling my name through the receiver — “ZAINAB! ZAINAB WHAT’S WRONG?!”—but I couldn’t reach for it. Couldn’t do anything except grab the edge of the phone station and try not to collapse.
I’d heard what she said. Heard it loud and clear.
Thad. Prime’s cousin. You’ll love him.
But I couldn’t address it. Couldn’t warn her. Couldn’t do a damn thing except—
“HELP!” someone shouted. “She’s having a baby! SOMEBODY HELP!”
But the COs who came running didn’t look concerned. They looked annoyed.
Cooper was the first one to reach me, his face twisted in irritation, like I’d personally ruined his night. “The hell’s going on here?”
“My water broke,” I gasped. “I need—I need a doctor—”
“You need to get back to your cell is what you need.” He grabbed my arm, started pulling me away from the phone bank. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“I’M IN LABOR!”
“Yeah, and the medical unit is busy. They’ll get to you when they get to you.” He was dragging me now, my wet feet slipping on the linoleum, pain shooting through me with every step. “This ain’t the Ritz Carlton, sweetheart. You think you’re the first bitch to pop one out in here?”
“Please—” Another contraction hit and I screamed, my knees buckling. Cooper kept his grip on my arm, kept pulling me forward like I was luggage he was annoyed to be carrying.
The blonde CO fell into step beside us, shaking her head. “Drama queen. Always gotta make a scene.”
They dragged me back to my cell. Threw me inside like I was garbage. LaLa jumped up from her bunk, eyes going wide when she saw the state I was in.
“What the FUCK is wrong with you people?!” she screamed at the COs. “She’s having a baby! She needs a hospital!”
“Medical’s been notified.” Cooper was already backing away, clearly wanting nothing to do with this. “They’ll send someone when they can.”
“WHEN THEY CAN?! She’s in LABOR!”
“Not my problem.” The door buzzed shut.
And just like that, I was alone. In a jail cell. About to give birth.
LaLa was at my side immediately, helping me to my bunk, her voice a steady stream of Spanish and English that I could barely comprehend through the pain.
“It’s okay, mami, it’s okay. I got you. Breathe, okay? You gotta breathe.”
“I can’t—” I was sobbing now, tears and snot mixing together, my whole body trembling. “I can’t have her here. I can’t—”
“Listen to me.” LaLa grabbed my face, forced me to look at her. “You CAN do this. You hear me? Women have been having babies since the beginning of time. In caves. In fields. In worse places than this. Your body knows what to do. You just gotta let it.”
“But—”
“My abuela was a midwife in El Salvador. She delivered over two hundred babies, some of them in houses with no electricity, no running water, nothing. She taught me everything.” LaLa was already moving, grabbing the sheets from her bunk, wetting towels in our tiny sink.
“I know it’s not ideal. I know it’s not what you planned.
But I’m gonna help you, okay? We’re gonna do this together. ”
Another contraction ripped through me and I screamed into the pillow, trying to muffle the sound even though I didn’t know why. Who cared if the whole block heard? Who cared about anything except the fire that was tearing me apart from the inside?
“I called for medical!” a voice shouted from somewhere down the row. One of the other inmates, probably. “They said they’re backed up! Said it might be a few hours!”
“A FEW HOURS?!” LaLa’s voice was pure fury. “THIS WOMAN IS HAVING A BABY! ARE YOU PEOPLE INSANE?!”
No response. Just the distant sound of doors clanging, footsteps echoing, the normal nighttime sounds of the jail continuing like nothing was happening.
Like I wasn’t dying in here.
“It’s okay,” LaLa said, turning back to me, her voice softening. “It’s okay. We don’t need them. We’re gonna do this ourselves.”
Time stopped meaning anything after that.
I remember the contractions coming faster, harder, each one worse than the last. I remember screaming until my throat was raw, then screaming some more. I remember LaLa’s voice, constant and steady, telling me when to push and when to breathe, her hands never leaving mine.
I remember other inmates gathering at our cell door, watching through the small window, some of them crying, some of them praying, all of them helpless to do anything but bear witness.
I remember thinking about Prime. About how he promised me I wouldn’t have this baby in a cell. About how he was probably at home right now, oblivious to what was happening, thinking I was safe and okay when I was anything but.
I remember the pain reaching a crescendo, becoming something beyond pain, becoming everything, and then—
“PUSH, mami! Push NOW!”
I pushed with everything I had. Every ounce of strength, every drop of will, every prayer I’d ever whispered to a God I wasn’t sure was listening.
And then I heard it.
A cry.
Thin and reedy at first, then stronger. The most beautiful sound I’d ever heard in my life.
“You did it!” LaLa was crying, tears streaming down her face as she held something small and wriggling in her arms. “You did it, Z! She’s perfect! She’s—”
She stopped.
I struggled to sit up, my body screaming in protest. “What? What’s wrong? Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, she’s fine, but—” LaLa’s eyes went wide. “Zainab. There’s another one.”
“What?”
“There’s another baby. You’re having TWINS.”
The world stopped.
“No.” I shook my head, even as another contraction started building in my core. “No, that’s not possible. All my ultrasounds—”
“I don’t know what to tell you, mami, but there’s definitely another head right here and you gotta push again. Right NOW.”
I didn’t have time to process. Didn’t have time to think about how this was possible, how everyone missed it, how my one baby had somehow become two. All I could do was push.
And scream.
And pray.
LaLa swaddled baby number one and placed her on the bunk.
“You got this, Z. One more time. One more big push.”
I pushed.
And this time, when the cry came, it was different. Deeper. Stronger.
“It’s a boy!” LaLa’s voice cracked with emotion. “Zainab, you have a son!”
A boy.
A BOY.
I was supposed to be having a girl. Everyone said it was a girl. Prime called her “princess” every night through my belly. We’d picked out a name. We’d decorated a nursery in pink and purple and gold.
And now I had two babies. A girl AND a boy.
Twins.
I reached for them, my arms shaking, my vision blurring. LaLa placed them on my chest—both of them, so tiny, so impossibly perfect—and I held them against my skin and sobbed.
“My babies,” I whispered. “My beautiful babies.”
They were crying too. Both of them. These tiny humans who had just entered the world in the worst possible circumstances, born in a jail cell, caught by an inmate instead of a doctor.
But they were HERE. They were ALIVE. And they were mine.
“Zainab.” LaLa’s voice was gentle but urgent. “Zainab, you’re bleeding a lot. Too much. I need you to stay awake, okay? Stay with me.”
I tried to focus on her face, but everything was getting fuzzy around the edges. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by exhaustion so deep it felt like drowning.
“The COs are coming,” someone said. “I see them down the hall.”
Too late. They were too late. LaLa had done what they refused to do. This woman I’d known for barely a month had delivered my babies while the people paid to protect me left me to die.
“Stay awake, mami. Look at your babies. Look at them.”
I looked down at the two faces pressed against my chest. One girl. One boy. Both with their father’s nose, their mother’s lips, their own story already written into their features.
“Tell Prime,” I managed, my voice barely a whisper. “Tell him… we have twins. Tell him… I love him.”
“You’re gonna tell him yourself.” LaLa was pressing towels between my legs, her hands covered in blood, her voice fierce with determination.
“You hear me? You’re gonna walk out of here with both these babies and you’re gonna put them in his arms yourself.
Don’t you DARE leave me to explain this shit alone. ”
I wanted to laugh. It came out as a wheeze.
The cell door crashed open. COs and medical staff finally flooding in, too many voices talking at once, hands reaching for my babies, machines beeping, orders being shouted.
But all I could see was LaLa’s face above me. Her eyes fierce. Her jaw set. Her bloody hands still holding mine.
“You did it, mami,” she whispered. “You did good.”
Then everything went dark.