I approach her cautiously. It’s late and this part of town isn’t the best to be out after dark. She’d be a prime target for anyone looking to mug someone for a little cash to get their next high.
“Hey, I’m Konan. You remember me from the pool?”
She looks me up and down. “Vaguely.”
“What are you doing out at this time?”
“He’s got a temperature and won’t stop crying. I’m waiting on a cab to take us to the hospital.”
“How long have you been waiting?”
“Long enough to think it’s not showing up.”
“I can take you. I have my car over across the street.”
She narrows her eyes but eventually nods as the baby’s cries start to pierce my eardrums.
She follows closely and I open the back door for her. She slides in and dumps her bag by her feet. She jiggles the baby on her lap, trying to soothe him.
Inside the car, the kid’s cries are deafening and don’t let up. By the time we reach the hospital, my ears are ringing. I park and jump out and open her door. She slides out and goes to lean back in for the bag. I grab it for her and lock the car.
“You don’t have to come in with us.”
“I don’t mind. I’ll carry this for you.”
She ignores me and walks into reception. She joins me in the waiting area, juggling the baby, a clipboard and a pen.
Unable to fill out forms with the kid crying, she sighs, looks at me for a few moments, and says, “Here, hold him while I fill this lot out.”
She doesn’t give me time to think of another solution. She plonks the kid on my lap and gives me no choice but to take hold of him.
I do what she did in the car, I bounce him up and down in my arms. It doesn’t help but feels like I’m doing something. An older woman across from us stares, judgement burning in her eyes.
“What?” I snap. “I’m sure you’ve seen a poorly baby cry before.”
Pippa lifts her head to see who I am talking to, and the older woman looks away, her pointy nose in the air.
“Don’t bother, if you say something to everyone who stares, you’ll get nothing done in the day.”
“He’s clearly not well, or he wouldn’t be here,” I mutter.
“If it isn’t their kid, they expect everyone else’s to be quiet. That much I have learned.”
She goes back to filling out the forms and I stand with the kid. Maybe if I pace, it will help him. It doesn’t but every time the older woman moves chairs, I make sure to walk past her.
When the doctor calls his name, I find myself walking with them, still holding the baby. I step back once Pippa takes him back and sits with him on the hospital bed. While the doctor checks him over, I slip out of the room and wait out in the hall. I should leave but I hang around until she walks out with more tears in her eyes than the baby.
“Can you give me a ride home, please?”
“Sure.”
Wordlessly, I take the bag from her, and we walk in silence to the car. I don’t know what the doctor gave the kid, but he’s drifting off to sleep in her arms.
“I can’t do this. My sister was amazing with him. She would have known what to do. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You knew to bring him here. You did the right thing.”
“He’s teething,” she retorts.
