Jasmine

by Maggie Wells

  Aleecia: My baby-daddy says he’ll marry me but my mom wants me to get an abortion. She’s taking me to Orlando today

  Luciana: What’s in Orlando?

  Aleecia: That’s the closest abortion clinic. It’s a hundred miles.

  Shawna: Don’t do it. Do you love your baby-daddy?

  Aleecia: I think so

  Isabella: You need to be sure. This is your life we’re talking about

  I decided to jump in.

  Jasmine: I need a name for my baby

  Candace: I’m calling mine Squirt

  Aleecia: What? You can’t name a baby Squirt!

  Jasmine: I toyed with the idea of naming her after a precious stone, maybe Ruby or Pearl

  Luciana: What about a flower? Jasmine is a flower, right?

  Shawna: Something exotic

  Jasmine: A hothouse flower? Like Orchid?

  Isabella: I love Orchid!

  Aleecia: Better than Squirt!

  Orchid—that was it! Orchid Watson. No, I couldn’t use his last name on the birth certificate. Not without telling him and I wasn’t about to do that. I don’t even really know if he was the father. It could have been anyone at the party, I suppose, but I doubted it. Eddie had been groping me—I remembered that much. I would name her Orchid Walker. I sent friend requests to all the girls who had posted; I had found my posse.

  One morning as I was opening up the store, Mr. Fong approached me. “You going to have baby?” he asked.

  My swollen belly was stretching the shirt of my uniform, threatening to pop the buttons. I had been meaning to request a larger one.

  “Yes, Mr. Fong,” I said. “I’m pregnant.”

  “You have husband?” he asked.

  “No,” I said. “No husband.”

  “You need childcare?” he asked in his Asian accent. “My daughter run child care center.”

  “Let me guess—she lives in the neighborhood? How much does she charge?” I asked.

  “I call her,” he said. He pulled out his phone and dialed his daughter. They spoke in Chinese for a few minutes and then he shoved his phone at me. “She say she need to talk to you.”

  “Hello?” I said into the phone.

  “Hi, this is Cindi.” She spoke perfect English.

  “I’m Jasmine,” I said. “I work for your dad. My baby is due in September. Do you take infants?”

  “We can take him at six weeks,” she said.

  “It’s a girl,” I said. “Orchid.”

  “We can take her at six weeks,” she repeated.

  “How much?” I asked.

  “One twenty-five a week,” Cindi said.

  “Okay, good to know,” I said. I could never afford that! I was starting to feel panicked. I couldn’t possibly afford rent and food and childcare. How was this going to work?

  “You need to reserve a spot,” Cindi said. “It’s two fifty to reserve a spot for November.”

  “I need to think about it,” I said.

  “Just give the check to my dad,” Cindi said, and hung up.

  Wow, I hadn’t even thought about the cost of childcare. I was going to need to make more money. As soon as I could pop this baby out, I would have to get back into shape, fast, and get Bally’s to hire me back.

  Back at the register, I logged onto Facebook. My girls were still there, hanging out.

  Jasmine: What do you plan to do about childcare?

  No response.

  Jasmine: Hello? Anybody there?

  Candace: My little sister is my Lamaze coach. I guess she’ll help out? My mom won’t have anything to do with it. Maybe I can pay the housekeeper to watch Squirt?

  Shawna: You have a housekeeper?

  Jasmine: You guys haven’t thought about this?

  Aleecia: I need to finish high school and my mom works full-time.

  This was depressing. I needed to log out.

  “You’re not gaining enough weight,” Dr. Finch said at my monthly check-up in August. “Are you eating enough complex carbs? The baby needs carbs to grow.”

  “Her name is Orchid,” I said.

  “Pretty,” she said. “Orchid needs carbs.”

  “I eat tons of fruits and vegetables,” I said. “And whole grains,” I added.

  “That’s a great start. Think about adding some other healthy carbs like beans and legumes. How about some whole grain bread and pasta?” she said. “Pasta with meat sauce. And garlic bread. Oh, now I’m making myself hungry.” Her laugh was contagious and we both doubled over.

  When I had caught my breath I said, “Okay—spaghetti and meatballs tonight. How does that sound, Orchid?”

  “And garlic bread,” said Dr. Finch. “Am I invited?”

  “Ooh!”

  “What is it, Jasmine?” asked Dr. Finch.

  “She kicked,” I said.

  “See, I’m telling you—she wants carbs!” Dr. Finch said, making me laugh again.

  “What are you doing for exercise?” Dr. Finch asked.

  “I swim every night after work,” I said. “It’s a small pool—mostly I just tread water.”

  “That’s good,” Dr. Finch said. “Don’t overdo it.”

  “I can’t wait to get back in shape,” I said. “I’ll need to lose thirty pounds to get my old job back.”

  “Breast-feed,” Dr. Finch said. “You’ll lose the baby weight—don’t be in such a rush. I’m more worried that she’ll be born underweight, and then you’ll have real trouble on your hands. You’ll be out of work much longer if she’s not thriving. Take care of her now, and you’ll both be much happier later.”

  NINE

  MOM FLEW OUT THE THIRD WEEK OF SEPTEMBER.

  “You don’t have a sofa?” she complained.

  “You could stay in a motel,” I suggested.

  “It’s cheaper to buy an airbed,” she said. “Let’s go to Wal-Mart.”

  At Wal-Mart, Mom grabbed a crib/playpen thingy and tossed in a year’s supply of diapers and formula.

  “I’m planning to breastfeed,” I protested.

  “You’ll ruin your boobs,” she said. “Look what happened to mine.”

  “Dr. Finch said I need to breast-feed to get my figure back,” I said.

  “Sure,” she said. “Your waist, your hips. But what about your boobs? You’ll never get your boobs back. We’re talkin’ curb-feelers. I can’t remember the last time I saw my navel.”

  “Geez, Mom! Gross!” I said. “I’ll get a boob job. Whatever! Besides you were twenty-six when you had me. I’m only nineteen.”

  “Oh now, she’s gettin’ bitchy,” Mom said. “Here we go. I didn’t fly all the way out here for the sassy backtalk.”

  “Sorry, Mom,” I said. “Can we just get this stuff and go back to the apartment? I need to lie down.”

  “You and me both,” she said.

  Orchid was born on September 21st. It was a warm, sunny afternoon. Of course I don’t remember that part of it. I remember the overly-lit maternity suite and pain, a lot of pain—and tons of screaming.

  And then, there she was—my precious Orchid. All healthy six pounds of her. All those carbs had paid off. My baby was a chubby little piece of chocolate. I wanted to gobble her up. Mom was in the bar down the street—seventeen hours of labor was too much for her. But I didn’t care. I held my baby. Her eyes were open and her mouth was a pink oval. Nurse Ramone adjusted her to see if she would take the nipple. We tried several times but Orchid kept closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep. Nurse Ramone nudged her mouth to where it needed to be and she finally latched on.

  “She’s hungry!” Nurse Ramone exclaimed.

  There’s something about watching a newborn open her eyes and see her mom for the first time and knowing instinctively where to go for food. I pressed my lips to her head and sniffed her powdery scent. She wrinkled her little forehead and made little squeaking noises like a baby seal. I am so in love! I thought. I am going to be a good mommy for you. I am going to be the best mommy! I just need to find a job an
d we need to find a sitter. We’ll figure this out. I could feel my blood pressure rising.

  “Take our picture!” I handed Nurse Ramone my phone.

  I posted the photo on Facebook.

  Isabella: Is that your baby?

  Jasmine: Orchid was born at two this morning

  Aleecia: So beautiful!

  Candace, Shawna, and Luciana liked this post.

  Mom had to get back to work, so she left two days after the birth and I was left alone with Orchid. I couldn’t have been happier. Being a mom isn’t as hard as they say. It all seemed to come naturally to me. When Orchid cried, I immediately understood what she wanted: a diaper change, food, attention, whatever! I was cut out for motherhood.

  “You’re okay for money?” Mom called from the airport. “Not that I have any to spare.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I’ve saved up money from working at the car wash,” I said. “I’m okay for a few months. Classes don’t start again until January. I have time to figure everything out.”

  “If we’re going to make this work, you’re going to need to go to day care and I need to get a job.” I had taken to talking to Orchid as though she were my life partner. She never argued with me, so I knew that we were in this together.

  “So we’re agreed?” I asked.

  Orchid stared at me and sucked on her pacifier.

  “Okay then,” I said. “I need to find a ballet class that offers child care. Is there such a thing?”

  The YMCA offered classes in ballet, Pilates, and Zumba. I signed up for everything and Orchid accompanied me every day.

  “We don’t usually take babies under six months of age,” said Hannah, the child care manager at the Y.

  “I make my living as a dancer,” I said. “I need to get in shape fast so I can pay my rent.”

  “You’ll have to sign a waiver,” Hannah said.

  “She’ll be good,” I said. “I promise. And if she cries, just wave at me. I’ll leave class to come get her.” Yes! I thought as I raced to the gym where the class was starting to warm up. Finally, something is going my way.

  Orchid and I went to the Y every day and Hannah soon started wearing my Baby Björn to keep Orchid quiet while she tended to the older children. And it wasn’t long before she started anticipating our arrival and rushed out to meet us as I was checking in at the front desk. Orchid greeted her with a big gummy smile and I was filled with jealousy but also gratitude as Hannah scooped her up and whisked her away.

  Dr. Finch and Mom were both right. I was back down to one hundred and ten pounds within a month, but my boobs were engorged, laced with veins that I had never seen before. No topless dancing for me. But I started checking out Backstage.com every day, looking for auditions.

  “Hannah,” I said as I checked in one day. “Can you watch Orchid while I run across town for a casting call? I’ll only be a few hours.”

  “You can’t leave her here at the Y,” Hannah said.

  “Of course not,” I said. Damn, I thought. I’ve got to find someone to sit Orchid. “I meant are you available to babysit outside of the Y?”

  “Sure,” she said. “I guess it depends on when. I work nine to five.”

  Well, this won’t work, I thought. The auditions are usually at ten and two.

  “Never mind, then.” I tried hard not to let the frustration register in my voice. “I’ll have to figure something else out.” How am I supposed to do this? I must have been a little rough as I yanked Orchid back from her.

  “Hey, is everything okay?” Hannah said. She sounded alarmed.

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “Give me your number. I’ll call you.”

  “Take my cell,” Hannah said. “Let me know if you need me evenings or weekends.”

  That night, I called Cindi Fong.

  “Hi Cindi, remember me?” I said into the phone. “I used to work for your dad?”

  “I don’t have any openings right now,” Cindi said. “I never got your deposit.”

  “Can you take her part-time?” I asked. “Just a few hours once or twice a week while I go on auditions?” Please, please, please, I prayed.

  “I’m licensed for ten kids,” she said. “I’m full right now. If I get an opening I’ll call you but you’d need to pay for a full-time slot even if she’s only here for a few hours a week.”

  Fuck! I hung up.

  TEN

  “ORCHID, WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO WITH YOU?” I asked. I paced anxiously back and forth across the living room. “What are we going to do, what are we going to do, what are we going to do?”

  She gave me a big smile.

  Just then, my neighbor, Mrs. Meacham, walked past on the balcony outside my window. I raced to the door. She was turning the key in her door, three apartments down from me.

  “Mrs. Meacham, hi!” I shouted.

  “How are you, Jasmine?” she asked. “How is baby Orchid?”

  “She’s doing great,” I said. “Would you like to see her? Could we come by and visit?”

  “That would be lovely, dear,” she said. “Come help me with my groceries.”

  I slipped Orchid into her Baby Björn and walked over to Mrs. Meacham’s apartment, trying to act nonchalant.

  She was in the kitchen unloading her bags of groceries.

  “Sit down,” I said. “Let me do that.”

  Mrs. Meacham sighed and sank into her recliner.

  “Can you hold Orchid?” I asked. I handed the baby to her.

  While I unloaded the groceries and folded up the bags, I explained to Mrs. Meacham that I had been working out at the Y every day and was ready to get out there and start auditioning but I needed to find someone to watch Orchid.

  “Do you think you could watch her for me?” I asked. “Just for a few hours?”

  “Sure, honey,” she said. “When were you thinking?”

  “Right now?” I asked.

  She started to protest but I interrupted her. “I know, I know, it’s very short notice. But there is a casting call at two and if I leave now I can just make it. I should be back by five and I’ll cook dinner for you.”

  “Well, alright,” she said. “Can you feed her and change her before you leave? What will I do if she gets hungry?”

  “I’ll leave a couple of bottles of breast milk in your fridge,” I said, thanking myself for the hundredth time for investing in that breast pump. “Thanks Mrs. Meacham, you’re the best!”

  I gave Orchid a big kiss and dashed to my car.

  I needn’t have rushed. There were more than fifty girls auditioning for a single opening. The director was calling the girls on to the stage, ten at a time. He walked them through a two-minute routine and then called out, “Next!” When it was my turn in the lineup, I locked eyes with him and tried to keep eye contact for the entire two minutes.

  As I was leaving, the assistant director, Anne, called me over.

  “I saw on your CV that you were in Bacchanal?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “The late show.”

  “Ah,” Anne said. “I thought I recognized you. Why did you leave?”

  “I got pregnant,” I said. “Just getting back to work now.”

  “Won’t they take you back?” Anne asked.

  “I can’t dance that role, anymore,” I said gesturing at my breasts, which had starting weeping through my leotard. “Speaking of which, I need to get back to my baby.”

  That was dumb, I thought as I walked out. Maybe I had just talked myself out of a job? Nah, she wasn’t planning to hire me anyway.

  I made Mrs. Meacham a nice pork roast with mashed potatoes, green beans, and corn bread.

  “Maybe you should look for a job as a cook?” she suggested.

  “Maybe a personal chef?” I added, laughing. I tried to sound lighthearted but I was starting to panic. What if nobody would hire me? What if Eddie had blackballed me? Was I just wasting my time running to auditions?

  The next day, I thought about what Anne had said and left a message for Geri. I sa
id I was feeling much better and had started auditioning. I asked her to let me know if she had any openings. I figured I could address the costume issue later.

  She never called me back. Fuck!

  I texted Katrina: How r u?

  Katrina: Hey kid, how are you? Where are you working?

  Me: I’m just getting back to looking for work. Is Bacchanal hiring?

  Katrina: Not that I know of—did you try Eddie?

  Me: I left a message for Geri

  Katrina: He fired Geri. The new guy is Kent

  Fuck, fuck, fuck! I thought as I tried to sound breezy.

  Me: Let’s grab coffee next week?

  Katrina: How about Tuesday?

  Me: K

  On Tuesday morning, I walked into Roxy’s Diner with Orchid strapped into her Baby Björn.

  “Oh my God!” Katrina said. “This is why you left the show?”

  I shrugged and nodded. In the stark light of day, Katrina looked a lot older. Her bleached hair was the texture of cotton candy forming a halo around her face. Maybe she wore a wig when she was working in the show?

  “Let me hold her,” Katrina said. “Come here, baby!”

  Katrina tried to cradle Orchid, but she kept squirming. Then, Katrina gave her a spoon to play with and she settled down. The waitress came over.

  “Do you want something to eat?” Katrina asked me. “The pumpkin pancakes here are great.” To the waitress she said, “I’ll have the fruit plate with yogurt and black coffee.”

  My stomach was growling but I only had three fives in my wallet and I needed to buy gas. “Just herbal tea and toast for me, thanks,” I said.

  “Do tell,” Katrina said once the waitress was gone. “Where did this little one come from?”