* * *
Twenty minutes later, we were in my car, headed back to the hospital. He spent the entire car ride in silence, and I wondered if he was in shock—which was understandable considering his aunt was murdered, a big white dude died on top of him, and I’d just told him I was his brother. Not to mention the fact that his mother was dying.
“Mama,” Roman said softly as he walked to her bedside after we arrived. He touched her hand, and she opened her eyes.
She looked from him to me, smiling weakly. “You got him.”
“I did.” I nodded. “We’re both here now.”
“Mama, I have a brother?” Roman asked.
“Yes, that’s him. Your brother Rio,” she said, gasping for breath.
“How?” he whispered.
Margaret
54
26 years earlier
“How much longer do you think it’ll be?” Mr. Duncan, the nervous father-to-be asked. He’d been pacing nervously for hours, from the moment his pregnant wife was admitted.
“LC, please stop asking her that,” his wife groaned. “It’ll happen when it happens. And for God’s sake, can you please stop walking around this room? You’re making me dizzy.”
I smiled and gave him a reassuring look. “Well, the last time we checked, she was almost seven centimeters dilated, so it won’t be much longer.”
“Oh, okay,” he said as he went back to walking back and forth in front of the hospital bed.
“You’re acting kind of nervous. I thought you said this wasn’t your first child,” I teased.
They appeared to be very much in love. His pretty wife, Charlotte, was a little more calm than he was, but it was apparent that she was worn out from her pregnancy. It was also clear that the couple had money, not only because of the large diamond ring she wore on her left hand, but also because they were immediately brought to the larger, nicer birthing room that was normally reserved for “special patients,” which was code for the ones rich enough to afford it.
“This definitely ain’t our first rodeo. As a matter of fact, it’s our fifth time going through this,” Mrs. Duncan told me.
“Fifth? My goodness. You’re a pro at this,” I said.
“He should be, but he’s like this every time.” She shook her head, then grimaced in pain. “But I think you may be right. It’s almost time. Oh my God.”
“Chippy, baby, are you okay?” Mr. Duncan rushed to his wife’s side and grabbed her hand.
I looked at the long piece of paper that the monitor near the bed had just put out, then checked Mrs. Duncan’s blood pressure. “Let’s go ahead and call Dr. Preston to come in.”
Mr. Duncan gave me a panicked look. “Is it time? Is she all right?”
“She’s fine, Mr. Duncan. Her blood pressure is a little elevated, and she’s in a lot of pain, but that’s to be expected with twins. He’ll probably give her a little something to make her a little more comfortable,” I explained.
Mrs. Duncan moaned. “He needs to give me a lot of something.”
“Owwww!” Mr. Duncan yelled out in pain from the grip his wife had on his hand.
I paged Dr. Preston, and a few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.
“Hey, Maggie, you paged?” the tall, gray-haired doctor asked, and I tried not to cringe. It didn’t matter how many times I’d told him that my name was Margaret. Most of the doctors and a few of the older nurses still referred to me as Maggie. I hated it.
“Yes, Dr. Preston. Mrs. Duncan is having a lot of pain and discomfort,” I told him. “And her blood pressure has increased a little.”
Dr. Preston walked over to Mrs. Duncan. “Hello there, Charlotte, LC. Great to see you both.”
“Hey, Dr. P. This is the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life. I knew it was gonna be harder because this entire pregnancy has been rough, but not like this,” Mrs. Duncan told him.
“I understand. Well, let’s see what we’ve got going on.” Dr. Preston lifted the sheet that covered Mrs. Duncan’s legs. “Oh, my.”
“What’s wrong?” Mr. Duncan frowned.
“Well, it seems that we won’t be able to give her anything for pain,” Dr. Preston told him.
“Why not? She’s hurting, Doc.” The panic in her husband’s voice matched the look on his face.
“Because she’s crowning, and the baby’s head is pretty much out. All right, Charlotte, get ready to push,” Dr. Preston told her; then he said to me, “Maggie, can you—”
“Wait!” Mr. Duncan yelled before Dr. Preston could finish his sentence.
“Yes?” I asked.
“So, she’s having the baby now? At this moment?” His eyes were wide with fear. “I . . . I need to call Nee Nee. She’s supposed to be here.”
“LC, go. Get out. It’s fine,” Mrs. Duncan moaned.
“But . . .” He looked over at her.
“Ahhhhhhhh!” She yelled. “Gooooooo!”
“That’s it, Charlotte. Push,” Dr. Preston encouraged her.
“Don’t you wanna be here for the birth of your baby?” I asked Mr. Duncan.
“He wasn’t there for any of the others,” Mrs. Duncan said when she stopped pushing. “He’s . . . always . . . conveniently outside in the hall.”
“Chippy, now, you know that’s not—”
“Ahhhhhhh!” His wife screamed, and the next sound we heard was that of a crying newborn.
“It’s a girl, and a big one,” Dr. Preston announced and held up the sticky, blood-and-mucus-covered baby.
“She’s gorgeous,” I said as I wrapped a blanket around the baby girl and took her into my arms.
“Well, he wasn’t in the hallway for this one.” Dr. Preston laughed.
“We have a daughter, Chippy.” Mr. Duncan now beamed with pride.
“Yes, LC. Paris has made her arrival.” Mrs. Duncan exhaled.
I took the baby’s vitals and cleaned her up, then wrote the last name Duncan and time of birth on one of the tiny ankle bracelets and slipped it on her. Once I finished, I swaddled her and took her over to her mother, who looked exhausted.
“She’s beautiful,” Mr. Duncan said. “You did good, Chippy.”
“We did good, LC. She looks just like you,” she said,
