“Love you, Jake.” Mom waves as they walk away. “Call me if I can do anything for you.”
I wish I could call after her and tell her how messed up I am because of losing Gage, then losing Jess, and just trying to get back into regular life after my deployment.
Instead, I force a smile and wave back.
forty-four
Comfort Zone
Iimmediately regret that I told mom I’d check on Jasmine. Standing outside her apartment, I hear the baby crying, shrieking actually. I knock anyway, hard so she'll hear me over the noise.
Jasmine opens the door, wearing a robe, her hair falling out of a ponytail. She looks like she’s been crying too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jasmine without makeup until now.
“Jake.” She tries unsuccessfully to smooth her hair. “This isn’t a good time.”
I peer in timidly. The coward in me wants to say I can come back later. Instead, I say, “Is there something I can help you with?”
Her lip quivers as she steps aside to let me in. “He won’t stop crying. He won’t eat. He won’t sleep. I don’t know what I'm doing, and I feel horrible.”
Her face is flushed. I put my hand on her forehead. She feels hot. “Did you call the doctor?”
“It wasn’t that bad earlier. By the time I felt really sick, it was too late to call.”
I walk through the open door. Her little apartment is a mess—strewn with baby things, blankets, diapers, bags from the hospital, and a dirty plate on the coffee table. Jasmine looks too exhausted to care. The baby is still crying. I pick him up. I had no idea such a little thing could make so much noise. “Where’s your mom?” I ask over the wailing. This is way out of my league.
“She went back to work a couple of days ago. She’s so tired by the time she gets home, and she isn’t thrilled about...about this situation. I didn’t want to bother her.”
I try changing the position of the baby–bounce him, walk with him. He keeps shrieking. Nothing works.
“I can't get him to eat.” Jasmine looks like she's about ready to start wailing too. “It hurts to feed him.”
Her robe is open. I feel like a creep for noticing, but Jasmine’s breasts have grown a lot. She wasn’t small to begin with.
“The hospital sent us home with some baby formula. Maybe we can try that.” Jasmine rummages through some bags on the floor. She pulls out a little bottle of premixed formula and hands it to me.
I want to hand the baby and the bottle back to her, but I'm afraid of the tears gathering in her eyes. I’ve never fed a baby before. I guess how hard can it be? He pushes the nipple out with his tongue and screams. I keep trying, coaxing. He finally takes it, starts sucking. The silence afterwards is deafening.
I sit on the couch and feed him while Jasmine watches. She looks exhausted and helpless. The baby must be exhausted too. He falls asleep as soon as he downs the bottle. I carefully put him back in the little crib by the coach. He sighs, but doesn’t wake up.
“Thanks, Jake,” Jasmine says.
I want to leave, but I know I shouldn’t. “Why don’t you go lie down? I can stay and watch the baby.”
She doesn’t argue. I know she needs to rest, but as soon as I'm alone, I panic. I have no idea what I’m doing. I need to call in the reserves. I get Mom on the phone and tell her what I’ve seen. I talk quietly so I won’t wake up Jasmine or the baby.
“Does Jasmine have a fever?” she asks.
“She felt really hot,” I answer.
“Does she have any red spots on her breasts?”
Now I'm the one who feels hot, my face on fire. “I didn’t notice; I mean, I didn’t look at that.”
Mom laughs but tries to cover it up with a cough. “Right, sorry. Let me talk to her.”
“I sent her to bed.” I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “She said it hurt to feed the baby.”
“I think she has a breast infection.”
