“Just Ruth.”
“Were you aware when you grabbed Ruth to fill in for you that the baby’s parents had expressed the desire to prohibit her from caring for their newborn?”
Corinne shifts on the wooden seat. “I didn’t think anything was going to happen. The baby was fine when I left.”
“The whole reason for monitoring a baby for ninety minutes after a circumcision is because with neonates, things can change on a dime, isn’t that right?”
“Yes.”
“And the fact is, Corinne, you left that baby with a nurse who was forbidden from ministering to him, correct?”
“I had no other choice,” Corinne says, defensive.
“But youdidleave that infant in Ruth’s care?”
“Yes.”
“And youdidknow that she wasn’t supposed to touch that baby?”
“Yes.”
“So you screwed up, essentially, two times over?”
“Well—”
“Funny,” Kennedy interrupts. “No one accusedyouof killing that baby.”
—
LAST NIGHT,Idreamed about Mama’s funeral. The pews were full, and it wasn’t winter, but summer. In spite of the air-conditioning and people waving fans and programs, we were all slick with sweat. The church wasn’t a church but a warehouse that looked like it had been repurposed after a fire. The cross behind the altar was made of two charred beams fitted together like a puzzle.
I was trying to cry, but I didn’t have any tears left. All the moisture in my body had become perspiration. I tried to fan myself, but I didn’t have a program.
Then the person sitting beside me handed me one. “Take mine,” she said.
I looked over to say thank you, and realized Mama was in the chair next to me.
Speechless, I staggered to my feet.
I peered into the coffin, to see who—instead—was inside.
It was full of dead babies.
—
MARIE WAS HIREDten years after I was. Back then she was an L & D nurse, just like me. We suffered through double shifts and complained about the lousy benefits and survived the remodeling of the hospital. When the charge nurse retired, Marie and I both threw our names into the ring. When HR went with Marie, she came to me, devastated. She said that she was hoping I’d get the job, just so she didn’t have to apologize for being the one who was chosen. But really, I was okay with it. I had Edison to watch after, in the first place. And being charge nurse meant a lot more administrative work and less hands-on with patients. As I watched Marie settle into her new role, I thanked my lucky stars that it had worked out the way it had.
“The baby’s father, Turk Bauer, had asked to speak to a supervisor,” Marie says, replying to the prosecutor. “He had a concern about the care of his infant.”
“What were the contents of that conversation?”
She looks into her lap. “He did not want any Black people touching his baby. He told me that at the same time he revealed a tattoo of a Confederate flag on his forearm.”
There is actually a gasp from someone in the jury.
“Had you ever experienced a request like this from a parent?”
Marie hesitates. “We get patient requests all the time. Some women prefer female doctors to deliver their babies, or they don’t like being treated by a med student. We do our best to make our patients comfortable, whatever it takes.”
