The Outside Child

by Tiffany L. Warren

“Do you think Dr. Benjamin has enough stamina to be doing this type of surgery?” Chenille whispered to Brayden. “He’s over fifty. He’s been on his feet for hours.”

  “It’s kinda late to be asking that, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “I wonder if he was nervous about something. Do you think he tells all his parents to pray like that? That was kinda weird, wasn’t it?” Brayden asked.

  “What are you two whispering about?” Charlene asked.

  “They’re two married folk, Charlene. They can whisper if they want,” Kent said.

  “Nothing, Mama,” Chenille said. “We’re just worried. That’s all.”

  “You can’t give something to God and then worry about it,” Charlene said.

  Brayden noticed Chenille’s sigh, even though she didn’t say anything to dispute what her mother said. Sometimes, church folk gave the most useless advice ever. Even grandmothers who meant well. He and Chenille were trusting God on everything, but they were still worried as hell about their baby.

  After the third hour of Quincy’s surgery, everyone started to get antsy. Chenille broke down and cried a few times. She went through an entire box of tissue. Brayden had shed a few tears, too.

  “Shit,” Chenille said as she looked down at the front of her shirt. “I’m leaking milk everywhere.”

  “You didn’t put on the pad things?” Brayden asked.

  “I did. Soaked through.”

  Brayden went up to the nurses’ station. “My wife is leaking milk. Do y’all have a dry shirt she could put on and one of those handheld breast pumps?”

  “I’ve got a hospital gown back here, and we can ask over in Labor and Delivery if they have a breast pump.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  “Hey, aren’t you the football player?” the nurse asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “That was your little baby going back there for surgery? Awww. . .”

  Brayden didn’t know how to respond, which made this a very awkward moment. Did he say thank you? For the awwwww? He wasn’t sure if that was sympathy or blessings or what.

  “Can I get the hospital gown?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes. I’ll have someone bring over the breast pump in a minute.”

  Brayden rushed back over to Chenille with the hospital gown, and she gave it a skeptical look.

  “I guess that’ll work,” she said.

  “It was all they had.”

  A few minutes later a nurse from Labor and Delivery brought over one of those plastic handheld pumps. Chenille took it and disappeared into a little room, and the Labor and Delivery nurse sat down next to Brayden.

  “Is that your wife?” she asked.

  Brayden nodded. The nurse bit her bottom lip and looked to the left and to the right, like she was about to cross a busy intersection.

  “I don’t think I pictured a man like you with a girl like her,” the nurse said.

  “What?”

  Brayden guessed that his voice sounded harsh, because the nurse jumped back in her seat.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you. I just, well, when I see ballplayers they’re usually with a different type of girl.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s what I like, so yeah.”

  The nurse lowered her voice to a whisper. “If you ever decide you might like something new . . .”

  “I’m his mother-in-law,” Charlene said as she pushed herself out of her seat and marched toward the nurse with her index finger pointed directly at the nurse’s face. “And if you don’t get yo’ triflin’ ass outa here while this man is trying to pray for his son—”

  The nurse jumped up. “I’m so sorry. Didn’t know you were waiting for someone in surgery. Bad timing. Sorry.”

  It was more than bad timing, and Brayden would be pissed if he didn’t want to burst out laughing at Charlene cussing the girl out. Even though she’d only said one curse word, to Charlene that was cussing someone out.

  “Ole triflin’ bird,” Charlene said as the nurse walked away.

  Marilyn scoffed and shook her head. “My son knows how to handle his fans. He’s had to deal with girls like that since high school. You’re making a countrified scene.”

  “And I would’ve caused an even bigger one if she didn’t carry her behind on.”

  “Don’t argue, y’all,” Brayden said. “It’s fine.”

  “It wasn’t fine. She was being very disrespectful to your wife,” Charlene said.

  “I won’t let it happen again.”

  Chenille emerged from the examination room wearing the hospital gown and holding a container of breast milk.

  “Do you feel better?” Brayden asked.

  “Yes, I do. Mama, what’s wrong? Why do you look upset?”

  Charlene glared at Brayden and shook her head. “Nothing, baby. The devil is busy, that’s all.”

  “We can’t have that. We trying to get some prayers through, right?” Chenille said.

  Charlene nodded and walked slowly back over to her seat. Chenille looked at everyone, but no one said anything.

  “Okay . . .”

  “I think we’re ready for another update on Quincy,” Brayden said. “It’s been a while.”

  “Yeah, it’s been more than forty-five minutes. Maybe they’re almost done.”

  Brayden sent up another prayer, because they’d gotten distracted for a moment. Dr. Benjamin asked for them to pray the whole time, but here they were arguing over a groupie. Maybe Charlene was right. The devil was busy.

  Finally, Dr. Benjamin walked down the hallway instead of a nurse. Chenille stood up and walked to meet him. Brayden followed her, but by the time he got out of his seat she was running toward the doctor. She stopped just short of barreling into him.

  “How is my baby? Did he make it?”

  Chenille’s voice was shrill and desperate as she asked the questions, but Dr. Benjamin took both her hands.

  “He made it. He did better than make it. Quincy is strong.”

  Brayden almost collapsed as the relief washed over his body. He realized that he hadn’t eaten or slept in over twenty-four hours, and before that he’d had only snatches of rest and snacks instead of meals.

  “He’s still in recovery with Dr. Panesh. We had to bring him up from the anesthesia slowly, to manage his pain. But your son is going to heal from this surgery.”

  “When can we schedule the next one?” Chenille asked.

  “We’ve got a long road ahead of us,” Dr. Benjamin said. “First, we’ve got to get Quincy’s chest closed. I’d like to try it in five days, because if he’s intubated too much longer than that he’ll lose his sucking reflex. I want to try to get him back to bottle feeding, and possibly back on the breast.”

  “What do you mean possibly back on the breast? I absolutely want to keep nursing my son.”

  “It might be an option, depending on how he heals. It is really for the best. It will help him with pain management, and he will be getting all the nourishment he needs.”

  “What do I need to do?”

  “Make sure you drink lots of liquids and pump with an electric pump on the same schedule as the baby’s feedings. For now, we will put breastmilk in his feeding tube.”

  “Okay. I can handle that.”

  Brayden felt relieved that all of Chenille’s focus was on Quincy. Chenille hadn’t even mentioned her business since Quincy was born.

  She was being a mother and mothering. Brayden had known she’d catch the bug as soon as she held her baby in her arms. And he was glad that she was finally all in, because although Brayden couldn’t say it out loud, he was scared to death of losing his son.

  Chapter 37

  Two Years Later

  I am up to my neck in birthday party planning for Quincy. We didn’t get to celebrate his first birthday the way we wanted to, because he was in the hospital and not even really eating solid food. Now that he’s turning two and is finally healthy (relatively speaking), we want to really make i
t a huge event.

  Of course, Marilyn wants to be a part of the planning as well. She just wants me to sit down while she plans the whole thing. I invited her over for lunch on our patio to talk about our party concepts.

  She’s currently inspecting my pasta salad. She always has something to say about my cooking, even though she can’t cook without burning or ruining something. I hope she doesn’t see me roll my eyes.

  “Was that a black olive I saw in there?” Marilyn asks.

  “Yes, I put black olives in my pasta salad.”

  “I see.”

  She painstakingly removes both olives from her plate. I am just going to ignore that. I’m not about to let her get on my nerves. Not today.

  “What do you think of the plans? Quincy loves animals, so I thought having his own little zoo in the backyard would be awesome.”

  “It’s going to smell. All I can think of is the odor,” Marilyn says.

  “We can get around that by serving the food inside here on the patio. The children can go outside to see the animals, and then come inside for lunch and cake.”

  Marilyn nods. “That might be a feasible compromise. What will you be serving for the meal?”

  “They’re children. So hot dogs, baked beans, macaroni and cheese? Kids’ foods.”

  “Oh, good heavens.”

  “What! That is the menu of all of the kiddie parties I’ve been invited to.”

  “I am inviting all of my Jack-and-Jill friends, Chenille. We are not serving them hot dogs.”

  “Well, what do the Jack-and-Jill friends eat, Marilyn? I’m not aware.”

  “You would be if you would accept my invitation to join.”

  So, here’s the thing. I don’t object to Jack and Jill. They have these children out here doing lots of volunteer activities and they also give out scholarships. I’m on board for all of that. What I’m not on board for is Marilyn controlling my life and my social circle. She wants to mold me into a miniature version of herself, and that is not about to happen.

  “Marilyn, what would you like to serve at the party?”

  “Maybe we can do a nice barbeque. We can have hot dogs for the children. Brisket and chicken for the adults. Maybe even some salmon, and a salad table. We’ll have cupcake stations, bottomless mimosas, and a candy table as well.”

  So we’re going to have a bunch of drunk women at my son’s birthday party.

  “Bottomless mimosas? It’s a children’s party.”

  “Well, it’s a children’s party, but it’s also a coming-out party for you. It’s time you joined Dallas’s society, Chenille.”

  “I’m not a socialite, Marilyn. I have a business. I work.”

  “But you could host the best fund-raisers. With yours and Brayden’s story with Quincy, you should be helping raise money for heart disease in children.”

  “We donate lots of money to that cause.”

  “But being a millionaire in the black community comes with certain responsibilities.”

  I let out a huge sigh. Marilyn is such a broken record.

  “Chenille, you’re leaking again . . .”

  I look down at my blouse and groan. I’ve been so busy today that I haven’t nursed Quincy yet.

  “Let me text the nanny to bring Quincy downstairs.”

  Marilyn clears her throat and shakes her head. I already know what she’s thinking. I don’t want to hear it.

  “You know, I’ve read that prolonged breastfeeding could turn a young man into a homosexual,” Marilyn says.

  I squeeze my hands into fists and then release them. I’ve heard her reasons for not nursing my son. Multiple times. But I’m not listening to them.

  Quincy will wean himself when he is ready. He’s been through so much pain. So many surgeries. His chest has been opened and shut three times in two years. Dr. Benjamin and Dr. Panesh think that nursing him helped his healing process.

  So, basically, I don’t give a damn what she says.

  My nanny, Lisa, walks in with Quincy on her hip, and she hands him to me. I plant kisses all over his chubby brown cheeks. He hugs me around my neck and showers me with kisses. Then he gets comfortable and helps me lift my blouse.

  “Oh, good heavens. I can’t watch this.”

  Marilyn stands and snatches her purse from the table.

  “Call me later about the party plans,” I say, completely unbothered by Marilyn’s judgmental attitude.

  “I’m not inviting my friends if you’re going to have your nipples hanging out during the party.”

  This makes me laugh out loud. Quincy stops sucking and looks at me, probably trying to understand what’s so funny.

  “If my son is hungry, he’s gotta eat. Although I’m sure he’ll be too distracted by the animals and cupcakes to want to nurse, though.”

  Marilyn storms out of the patio area, and I keep laughing. Louder. I want my laughter to follow her all the way to her car.

  “I think it’s great that you keep nursing him,” Lisa says.

  “Thank you for saying that.”

  I don’t really care about who supports or who doesn’t support this decision. So, while I thank Lisa for her words of support, I don’t need them. Brayden has tried on a couple of occasions to persuade me to wean Quincy before he’s ready—at his mother’s request—and I promptly cussed him out.

  Quincy kicks his feet happily as he nurses, and even hums a little. I stroke the top of his head as he falls quickly into a nap. He never nurses for a very long time, and he does eat real food. It’s just like any other toddler who’d have a glass of milk a few times a day. And outside of his heart troubles, he’s never sick. He doesn’t have ear infections or colds or anything.

  Brayden walks up as Lisa takes Quincy from my arms and takes him into the house.

  “It’s too hot outside,” Brayden says, as he sits down at the patio table and plunges into the pasta salad.

  “Yes, it’s July in Texas. Hot is expected, babe.”

  “I thought my mama was coming over today? She left already or not here yet?”

  “Left already.”

  Brayden lifts his eyebrows. “Everything good?”

  “You know your mama, huh?”

  “I know my wife, too.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  Brayden laughs. “Y’all would argue about whether or not ice water is cold. I’m not getting in that.”

  “Smart man.”

  “So how much is Q’s birthday gonna cost me?” Brayden asks.

  “It’s going to cost us maybe ten thousand dollars.”

  Anytime we make a big purchase, Brayden refers to our money as his. I don’t think he notices that he does it, but I do, and it’s annoying as hell. This is the reason why I will have my own job, and my own business, no matter what anyone says.

  “Well, I’m here for it,” Brayden says. “My son deserves to have a big party in his honor. I’ll have some of the team members bring their kids.”

  “Jarrod gonna bring his daughter?”

  “Alleged daughter.”

  This cracks me up. Jarrod has some drama going on in the blogs about some girl claiming that he’s the father of her three-year-old daughter. Brayden has automatically sided with his boy. I’m not so sure. I think the girl is pretty believable.

  “Just so you know, about two weeks after the party, I have a gig in New York City.”

  “That’s when training camp starts.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Are you taking Quincy with you?”

  “No, Lisa’s going to keep him. I’ve been freezing milk ahead of the trip.”

  “That’s probably not necessary.”

  “Yes it is. He doesn’t drink cow’s milk at all, Brayden. What will he have in his cereal and oatmeal?”

  “Oh, well, I guess whatever you feel is best, then.”

  I tilt my head to one side trying to read Brayden’s mind. “Why does it seem like you have a problem with my gig?”

  “Because I don�
��t like for our son being left with a nanny and neither one of us are in town.”

  “Lisa is trained as an emergency room nurse. She’d be more helpful if something happened than I would.”

  “I still don’t like it.”

  “Well, how about you take off the first week of training camp. I’m sure Coach Wyatt would understand.”

  “Not happening.”

  Well, then, he can change the subject, because as far as I’m concerned, it’s over.

  “Don’t you want to know who my gig is with?” I ask.

  “Who?”

  “Designer Klein Newton is having an exclusive fashion show, and I’m doing all of the models.”

  “Klein Newton? For real? You about to be big time, then.”

  Sarcasm is dripping from his tone.

  “Do you know who Klein Newton is?”

  “No. Sure don’t. I don’t care, either. I care about my son having a parent with him.”

  “You don’t care enough to take time off from your job. All these years you been playing for the Knights, you don’t have any sick leave?”

  “This is our third year in a row that we are favorites in our conference to go to the Super Bowl. How would it look if last year’s MVP didn’t show up for the first week of training camp? What message would that send to the rookies?”

  If I hear Brayden refer to himself as the MVP one more time I’m going to vomit. Yes, the Knights won the Super Bowl two years in a row. And Brayden was the key aspect of their win the second go-round, so yes, he got the MVP honors. But right now, we are not on the football field or having an interview on ESPN. We’re in our home, talking about our family.

  So why do I care about what message anything sends to the rookies?

  “Listen, if you want, I’ll ask my mother to stay on after the birthday party. Quincy will have his grandmother.”

  “I guess I don’t have a choice. This is what you’re doing,” Brayden said.

  “It’s what you’re doing, too. I go to work, you go to work.”

  “We keep having this same conversation.”

  “We do. Let’s have a different conversation. We’re having a zoo theme for Quincy’s birthday. He likes lions and tigers, but he’s gonna have to settle for a baby goat, a pony, and lizards.”

  “Lizards.”