Second Chances

This is a portion of my short story.


Sweat beaded down her face and chest as Monica suddenly bolted straight up in her bed. She pulled at her silk purple night gown-that's now drenched-"Damn," mumbled Monica,"It's that stupid dream again."

This was the third time this week. Why does it always have to happen the same exact way? The daughter, that Monica lost eighteen years ago, rejected her over and over again. Takeisha, whose name was changed to Miesha by her adopted parents, didn't want to have anything to do with her. Monica reflected on the dream and saw herself crying hysterically as she pleaded with Miesha trying to explain to her how she had lost her, and how the Bradfords became her adopted parents-Miesha refused to listen.

"Girl, ya' gotta' get a grip." Monica said flopping back in the bed and pulling the sheets up to her chin like a five-year-old child being tucked in for the night.

Monica glanced over at the night stand where her clock sat. Two forty-five in the morning and Miesha's plane didn't arrive until ten. "What am I going to do for the next six hours, especially since sleep is definitely out of the question.” As Monica clasped her hands over her stomach trying to calm the anxious butterflies, she just couldn't seem to stop the flood from streaming down her face. Monica knew that this was a time of joy not sorrow, but her heart wouldn't allow her to block out the painful memories. She could still remember how empty and hollow her body felt after she had given birth to Miesha. Not being able to hold and embrace her newborn, kiss her, or watch her blossom into a respectable woman was devastating. Monica had wanted to share all the accomplishments in Miesha's life like any other parent, but life had dealt Monica a bad hand that destroyed any chance of sharing Miesha's hopes, dreams, and expectations for the future. Monica has cried herself to sleep many nights over the last eighteen years, but the worst was yet to come.

Now that Miesha had been gone for years, Monica was aware that her bond with her daughter would never be the way that she wanted it to be. She had to be strong and try to make a new type of bond-even if that meant settling to be only her friend. The most important thing was Miesha was allowing her to be apart of her life. Every time Monica was grief stricken, her heart relived the pain of losing her baby all over again. How was she suppose to put all of that to the side and settle for something less? Miesha had agreed to see her after all these years. Monica was being given a second chance at being a mother.

*****

"Okay Monica, inhale and give me one more big push. Push. . .push. . .

Monica tried to focus on the doctor's round pudgy face with the fogged up glasses as she took a deep breath and pushed with everything that she had left. If she wasn't so tired, she would have been able to laugh at the doctor's comical face. Despite the way Dr. Johnson looked right now, Monica knew that she could trust him. Finally after a long, difficult labor, Monica heard the soft, raspy cry of her baby as Dr. Johnson's deep baritone voice announced that it was a girl.

Monica's mouth felt like cotton and her lips were severely cracked from dehydration, but tears still clouded Monica's vision as she turned towards the nurse who was holding her little angel. She saw her baby actively kicking her feet and heard her cry, which sounded like birds singing. The nurse moved closer so that Monica could get a better look at her, and Monica noticed that her baby had thick black curly hair, big bright dark brown eyes, and her skin was the color of cocoa. Satisfied in knowing that her baby was healthy and safe, Monica welcomed sleep with open arms with a huge smile on her face.

Startled, Monica opened her eyes as she felt a gentle breeze blow across her face, and the sound of squeaky wheels rolling down the hall. She realized that the nurses were taking her to her semi-private room. As they helped her into bed, Monica's head began to clear so she could gather her thoughts.

"Nurse, may I see my baby now?"

"You need your rest Ms. Jackson. Try not to talk. My name is Romona," looking away quickly as she rushed to the door, "Dr. Johnson will be in to talk to you in a few minutes. Try and relax. Would you like me to have someone come in to be with you?"

"No, thanks. My mom should be here any minute. Can I see my baby now?"

Romona glanced at her giving her a weak smile as Dr. Johnson came into the room.

"How are you feeling?" Asked Dr. Johnson as he pressed softly into her stomach.

"Okay. I'm a little anxious to hold my baby. When can I see her?"

Dr. Johnson slowly removed his glasses and placed them inside his coat pocket. "I'm afraid that's not going to be possible."

Monica looked from Dr. Johnson to the nurse, back to Dr. Johnson again as if she was caught in a tennis match as she tried to understand what was really being said.

"We did everything we possibly could, but it wasn't enough. I'm sorry Ms. Jackson, but-"

"No..." Monica whispered. "No..." her muscles tensed as the glow of motherhood left her light-brown complexion sullen. "How could this be? I saw her move, I heard her cry. I know what I saw!" screamed Monica, "and I know she's not dead. . .she can't be dead!" Monica pleaded. "I want to see my baby. I need to see her now! Monica wiped away the tears with shaking hands and boldly screamed again and again, "I want my baby now!"

Ignoring the desperate commands to calm down from Dr. Johnson, Monica sprang from her bed and raced down the hall. Too anxious to wait for the elevator, Monica raced down the steps to Labor and Delivery, which was on the first floor. Not realizing how weak she was, Monica struggled to open the double doors, as if they weighed a ton, and immediately spotted a nurse coming through another set of doors. The nurse was holding a bundle of something and Monica wondered what it could be. She could no longer contain herself and bolted after the nurse and began grabbing at the nurses arm.

"What are you carrying? Is it my baby? Let me see her. . .please! I want to see my baby! Is this my baby. . .oh god please let this be my baby."

The nurse backed up against the wall trying to keep the baby out of Monica's reach. The nurse desperately looked up and spotted Dr. Johnson and gives hip a look of despair and pleads for help. Dr. Johns nodded his head in approval for the nurse to lower the baby for Monica to see. Monica slowly pulled the blanket back with her shaky hands revealing exactly what she had prayed for-her baby with that sweet angelic face. She caressed the baby's cheek and rubbed the top of her curly head.

"That's enough. Nurse take the baby." ordered Dr. Johnson.

"No, you can't take my baby." Monica said collapsing to the floor.

The nurse wrapped the baby back up and quickly hurried down the hall towards large double doors. Dr. Johnson injected Monica with a sedative and Romona sat on the floor cradling her in her arms and tried to console Monica's broken heart.

"Dr. Johnson, are you sure we made the right decision?" Romona asked as they placed Monica's limp body on a gurney. "For someone who was planning to give up her baby, she sure is extremely emotional. If her intentions were to give the baby up for adoption, why would it matter so much to her to see the baby? Wouldn't it had been her decision not to see the baby so she wouldn't become attached and change her mind?"

"Nurse, you ask too many questions. Leave everything to me. I wasn't expecting this to happen, but I didn't rule it out either. Everything will be taken care of. Thanks for your assistance,but do not mention what just happen to no one. Do you understand me?" replies Dr. Johnson.

"Moni. . .Moni. . .can you hear me? It's me. . .mom. Come on honey, open your eyes."

Monica slowly opened her eyes and tried to bring into focus the fuzzy figure that was standing over her. She continued to blink until her mother came into focus. Monica's mother, Michelle, was standing over her gently rubbing her thick sandy-brown hair. Monica could tell that her mom had been crying because her dark mahogany face was still puffy, and her dark brown eyes were red and swollen.

"How are you feeling?" Michelle asked while still rubbing Monica's hair.

Monica stared off into space as the tears started anew. "I can't believe...." She whispered, "she's gone. . .oh mom, she's really gone."

"I even gave her part of your name. Takeisha Michelle Jackson."

"Oh, Moni. . ." Michelle hugged Monica tighter. "Have you told Michael about
his daughter?"

"She looked so much like Michael." Monica choked out, crying harder.

"Are you going to tell him? He deserves to know."

"No. Michael didn't know I was pregnant and I doubt that he would care even if he did know. So, what's the point. Takeisha is dead!" Monica screamed. "Telling Michael is not going to bring her back!" said Monica sobbing.

Michelle sat on the edge of Monica's bed hugging her daughter and stroking her hair until she started to calm down. She knew how hard the decision was for Monica to make about having the baby on her own, but this was a bitter pill to swallow. Michelle had respected Monica's decision; she even admired her for it because she knew that she never would have had the strength or the courage to have done something so courageous as to raise a baby as a single mother. But Michelle knows now that she must find the strength and courage to be strong for her grieving daughter.

"I wasn't trying to upset you, Moni."

"Oh yeah? Then why would you bring up Michael at a time like this?"

"I just thought that you should at least think about telling him, but right now. . .just rest. You don't have to worry about anything. If you want me to."

Michelle felt Monica slowly nod her head. As she slowly lifted her head from her mother's chest, the bed, turned her face towards the window, and sobbed profusely.

"I'm sorry to have to ask you this, honey, but do you have any idea when and where you want the services to be?"

"I don't care. Whenever and wherever. In fact as soon as possible would be great."

"But you won't be out of the hospital if we did it too soon."

"Exactly."

Not wanting to push her daughter into something she wasn't ready to deal with, Michelle just looked at her daughter and decided to let the matter drop. . .for now.

"I'm going over to the funeral home to start making some arrangements, I'll be back to check on you later. Try to get some rest." Michelle said kissing her lightly on the forehead as she left the room.

"Excuse me, sir. My name is Michelle Jackson. I'm here to make funeral arrangements for my daughter's baby that just passed away yesterday. The nurse on duty said the baby was sent here about twenty-four hours ago from Jasper Memorial Hospital.

"Ah yes. I'm aware of your lost. You and your family have our deepest sympathies. We will do everything in our power to make your day of mourning go peacefully and respectfully. If you need anything, my name is James Fulton, I will take care of all your needs."

"Please to meet you." Michelle said shaking his extended hand.

"How is your daughter?"

"Still in shock, but she'll be fine. Thank you. Could I see the baby so I can take some pictures of her for my daughter? I didn't get to see her at the hospital."

Mr. Fulton's smile quickly faded wiping his pale, pasty face of all emotion. "I'm afraid I can't do that. The instructions I received-"

"Instructions. . .what instructions?"

"They said that the mother wanted to have a closed casket, no pictures, and no viewing of the body. Therefore, that's what I started preparing for."

"They who? I don't know who gave you those instructions, but it definitely wasn't my daughter." Michelle said as her eyes flashed like streaks of lighting through a dark forest. "We will be having an open casket along with a viewing and if people want to take pictures then they can do that, too. Monica was very stern about this because she doesn't want anyone to forget her baby. Besides, we are paying for your services, so serve us well or we will go somewhere else!"

"Uh. . .no you're not, ma'am. All financial arrangements were taken care of when I received the body."

"That's impossible! Who and why are they doing it?"

"Sorry, but I can't give out that information. They want to remain anonymous. You should be thankful to have that burden taken off of you." Mr. Fulton said flatly.

"Thankful?" Michelle laughed. "Why? Because some bigwig threw their weight around trying to do some charity work?!" She laughed again.

"Why. . .yes." Mr.Fulton said looking around nervously. "That. . .was. . .very. . . generous."

"Generous?!" Michelle sneered. "Get real! How is it generous when the family doesn't get to pay respect in their own way? Answer that, Mr. Fulton."

Michelle stared expectantly into James Fulton's shifty baby blue eyes. He knew that she was right, but he wasn't about to admit it.

"Tell me, Mr. Fulton, didn't that request sound a little strange to you?"

"It's not my place to question these things."

"That's a bunch of bull! If my daughter wants an open casket, then damn it, that's what she'll have!"

"I'm sorry ma'am, but I can't do that."

"Like hell you can't. Tell your anonymous Godsend to take their money and shove it!"

James Fulton's cheeks tightened and blushed from the blow of Michelle's words. "Again, Mrs. Jackson, everything has already been set for tomorrow. There's nothing that I can do."

"Tomorrow? Monica won't even be home from the hospital! You're going to deny her that, too?"

"We have a strict schedule to stick to. So, if you want to attend the service it will be at one o'clock at the grave site. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to work."

Michelle stared dumbfounded as Mr. Fulton dismissed her with a forced, "Good day." She slumped down in the chair as he disappeared through the door and took several deep breaths as she tried to regain control over her emotions.

"I can't believe the nerve of that bastard!" Michelle hissed rubbing her temples to soothe the pounding of her soon-to-be-migraine.

"What am I going to do?"

James Fulton leaned his back against the closed door. He knew that he should have never agreed to do this one. Something just didn't feel right about it from the beginning and now his whole career was on the line. James had needed some extra cash since business had been slow the last couple of months and Dr. Johnson had said that there wouldn't be any problems as long as they stuck to the plan. He didn't like the vibes that he was getting from that Michelle Jackson, and if her daughter, Monica is anything like she is, he was in trouble. James knew that they had a problem as soon as he told her
she couldn't see the baby. A chill ran up his back tickling the hairs and making them stand up on end. He shook himself and rubbed his hands up and down the sides of his arms.

"I hope this big shot doctor knows what he is doing because I'm the one who's got everything to lose."

He heard the soft click of the parlor door closing and he began to feel the tension in his muscles slowly ebb away. Maybe he was simply overreacting because Michelle Jackson questioned everything that he said. She didn't believe anything that came out of his mouth and he knew it. But maybe she accepted the fact that nothing could be done since he didn't waiver from his original story. For his sake at least, he hoped so because he knew that Dr. Johnson wouldn't be happy to know that there was trouble brewing.

******

"Ashes to ashes. . .dust to dust. . .Amen."

Michelle slowly stood up from her chair and laid the single white rose on top of the small casket. "Goodbye sweetheart. Grandma and mommy will always love you." She kissed her fingertips and gently touched the casket.

She turned and started walking towards the car when she noticed another couple standing a few feet away. Michelle didn't remember seeing another service going on. Whose funereal could they be attending unless they were just visiting a grave? Michelle shook her head and let out a little laugh at the paranoid thought forming in her head. She thought that they did seem a little overdressed to be visiting a grave site. Michelle didn't recognize them so she knew they weren't there for Takeisha's funeral, or were they? It wouldn't have been the first strange thing that has happened in the last two days. The more Michelle thought about it, the more bizarre it appeared.

Michelle glanced back at the little casket and quickly looked around to see if Mr. Fulton was nearby. "I'm going to get at least one picture of Takeisha. . .even if it kills me."

She reached into her purse and pulled out a camera. Michelle walked over to the casket and quickly glanced around to see if anyone noticed her. The couple that was standing only a few feet away had disappeared as mysteriously as they had appeared. Michelle quickly took one picture of the casket and the single white rose. Then she reached down with shaky fingers and placed her hand on the tiny casket lid and hesitated as she scanned the area again for Mr. Fulton. Michelle took a couple of more deep breaths as she prepared herself for what laid inside.

She opened the casket gasping at the sight of the ghastly colored infant. Michelle quickly took three pictures of the grayish-black baby, which struck her as a little odd since neither Monica nor Michael were that dark. Michelle knew that everyone automatically darken after death, but the complexion of this baby was too dark. The baby was so small, too. Michelle thought that Takeisha would have been bigger than what she was seeing, especially since Monica was full-term.

"Grandma," Michelle heard it so clearly, but yet knowing that she would never hear those words caused tears to slowly drip down her cheeks as she stared at the tiny infant. Michelle took the last picture and quickly closed the small casket.

THREE MONTHS LATER...

"Mom, I'm back." Monica said laying her coat across the back of the chair.

"So, how does Takeisha's headstone look?"

"Okay-"

"But?"

"It's not over her grave. They put it beside it. When I told the grounds keeper, he said that there wasn't a grave there."

"That's strange." Michelle said sitting down across from Monica. "This whole thing with Takeisha has been strange from the beginning."

"What 'cha mean?"

"Well, first there's the mysterious benefactor that paid for her funeral. Second, Mr. Fulton, the funeral director, didn't bother to let us know about the little paid surprise, nor did he give us the opportunity to state how we wanted the services, and third. . .there's something else that happened at the funeral service that I didn't think was really important at the time."

"What, the funeral director realized how psychotic you really were and burned himself alive?" Monica smiled.

"Ooh, look whose starting to have a sense of humor again."

"Some things are like riding a bike, once you learn you never forget."

"It's nice to see you smile, but I'm trying to be serious."

"Sorry."

"There was a couple there a few feet away from me, dressed as if they were attending Takeisha's service. I didn't recognize them. I only believe that they were attending our service because it wasn't any other service going on. At first, I thought I was being a little paranoid, but the more I thought about it, the more I believed that they were there for Takeisha. I didn't have time to call any family members to tell them what happened, and no one else knew that you were pregnant. Does that make any sense to you?"

"No, it doesn't." Monica answered massaging her throbbing temples. "I know that I had originally said that I didn't want to be at my baby's funeral, but I just wish I had gotten a chance to change my mind. I wish. . .I had at least gotten one last chance to say goodbye. Now, it's too late."

"You know..." Michelle said slowly, "I had a feeling that you were going to feel this way." She said walking into the living room and returning with an envelope full of pictures.

"What-"

"Pictures of your daughter at the funeral you were unable to attend."

"How-"

"Don't worry about it. I did it for you. . .my baby." Michelle said placing her hand over Monica's and gently squeezing. "I'm going to check the mail."

Monica took a deep breath as she stared at the envelope in her hands. She took out the pictures and saw the first one of a small ivory colored casket with a single white rose lying on the top. Tears welled up in her eyes and flowed over the brim like a dam bursting free as she lightly touched the picture. Monica flipped to the next picture and saw her baby. Frowning, she quickly looked at the other two pictures.

"What's wrong, Moni?" Michelle asked placing a letter in front of her. What are you staring at?"

"This isn't my baby."

"Of course-"

"No, mom. This is definitely not Takeisha." Monica said tossing the pictures on the table. "Takeisha was way bigger than this and she wasn't this dark complexed. I know I only saw her for a brief moment, but her image will be carved into my memory forever."

Monica rested her head in her hands and stared down at the table. She finally focused on the letter laying in front of her.

"What's this?"

"It's for you."

"Duh, I know that. . .but from who? There's no return address."

"Open it."

Monica opened the enveloped and inside was a picture of a happy couple holding a newborn baby at a hospital. There was a folded note. Monica placed the picture down and opened the letter that read:

Monica,
I just wanted you to know that she is alive.Meet me at Jasper Central Park on Saturday,
June 8 at 11am. I'll explain everything.
--Romona

Monica sat staring at the picture. It was her baby! Her baby was alive. She had been right all along. The gate that locked her emotions away flooded and overwhelmed her with what she always dreaded to feel-hope. Monica wasn't crazy like everyone tried to make her believe. She was right. For once she knew that her inner being was correct.

Monica, shocked and in disbelief started questioning her sanity. Was she dreaming, or was this for real? She wanted to shout to the rooftops that her baby was alive, but on the other hand she wanted to scream from the top of her lungs because of the frustration that
she has been feeling for the last three months.

Tears was not an option, but they seemed to be streaming down her face nonstop.

"Moni, what does it say?"

"Who's alive?"

"My baby. . .Takeisha. . .her. This is my baby. This is who I remember seeing. Not the one they try to pass her off as her in the casket. That's why they didn't want you to take any pictures because they knew she wasn't dead."

Michelle sighed. "Moni. . .this is the couple that I saw at the grave site. Why would they have your baby and try to make you believe that she was dead."

"Are you sure that's them?"

"Positive and if Takeisha is alive, who did we bury three months ago, but most importantly who is the couple?"

Monica went upstairs to her room and walked over to her vanity stand. She opened the closet door to look for the papers that pertained to Takeisha's birth and death.

"Yes, here they are." called Monica's muffled voice as she pulled out the chest from the back of her closet and unfolded the birth and death certificates. She hurried back downstairs scanning over the documents.

"Read over this, mom and then we'll compare the two." Monica handed her mom the birth certificate. "I want to see if there are any differences. I have her name listed as Takeisha Michelle Jackson."

"Same here."

"Date of birth is March 30?"

"Yes."

"Weight is five pounds and seven ounces?"

"No, eight pounds, nine ounces."

"Time of birth?"

"Seven thirty in the evening."

"I got to the hospital around five that morning, but the drugs the gave me made it hard to keep track of time. I think it was around seven that night when they brought me out of labor and delivery. This means she had to be born between five and six that evening."

"That's mistake number two. Mom, look. They have her time of death as three fifteen in the afternoon. That's at least two hours before she was born."

Monica took the birth certificate from her mother, folded it with the death certificate, and placed them in her coat pocket.

"Where ya' goin'?" asked Michelle.

"To find out what happened to my baby."

******

"Ms. Jackson, Dr. Johnson will see you now." The receptionist smiled politely.

"Thank you." Monica said following the receptionist through the hall into Dr. Johnson's office.

Monica sat in the chair that was facing the desk as butterflies danced around in her stomach. She had came her for answers to the questions that have plagued her for the last three months, but she wasn't sure that she was prepared to hear the answers.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Jackson. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I have a couple of questions that need answering, do you have a few minutes?"

"Happy to help you any way that I can." Dr. Johnson said flashing his best smile.

"From my understanding, you were the only one who delivered my baby, is that correct?"

"Correct."

"So, why doesn't my daughter's birth weight, time of birth, and time of death match on the certificates?"

"I'm sorry. . .I don't understand." He said his smile unwaivering.

"On one certificate, my daughter's weight is eight pounds nine ounces, but the other says five pounds seven ounces. Why is that? Second, one says that she was born at seven thirty in the evening when she was really born somewhere between five and six. Can you explain any of this to me?"

"There must have been a typing error on the documents. That does happen you know." Dr. Johnson answered calmly as his forehead began to bead with small droplets of sweat. "It doesn't happen too often, but it has been known to happen. Did you bring the documents with you so I can get the information corrected?"

"Sorry, but I'm not that stupid." Monica answered as fire started rising up from her neck into her cheeks. She knew that Dr. Johnson had committed fraud and was lying to try and cover up his crime, but she refused to let him get away with ruining her life.

"Why would I come all the way down here, confront you with my suspicions, and then politely turn all the fraudulent documents over to you? Sorry Dr. Johnson, you need to come up with some answers. . .quick. Besides, I believe that I already have the correct copies."

"I must admit Ms. Jackson, I truly did underestimate you." Dr. Johnson said leaning back in his chair and picking his lunch out of his teeth. "I wasn't expecting you to ask so many questions, or cause the scene that you did at the hospital. Nonetheless, that's not important." He sneered.

"Are you admitting to stealing my baby?"

"Why would I do a foolish thing like that? Besides, you can't prove anything, nor do I have a reason for stealing your baby?"

"You thought you could take advantage of me because I'm young. News flash Dr. Johnson, you picked the wrong young lady to try and railroad. I hope the money you got for stealing my baby was worth it because I will see to it that you never deliver another baby, especially delivering to people that aren't the biological parents."

"Good luck with your frivolous accusations because no one will ever believe your story." Dr. Johnson smirked. "They'll see you as a distressed mother going through postpartum depression and being upset over the death of your baby. People will think that you're looking for someone to blame. Since I was your doctor and delivered your baby, it would only be natural that you would come after me. First, you'll be lucky if your family doctor doesn't prescribe you medication for your depression, or better yet lock you away in a mental institution. Maybe I'll send over a referral for the psychological evaluation. Are you getting the picture yet? Just in case you're not, let me clear it up
even more for you. You see Ms. Jackson, money is a very powerful thing to have, and you can never have too much of it."

"You will regret what you've done." Monica said through clenched teeth.

"I doubt it." He laughed. "That's one thing I have never had. . .regrets. Now, if you don't mind you have wasted enough of my time and I have some real patients that need my attention. You know your way out, so do us all a favor and show yourself out."

Monica got up and walked towards the door stopping just outside. "Dr. Johnson, just one more thing. Money should have brought you some common sense with all that power because with power comes responsibility. Since you are bold enough to boast about the crime you have committed, the truth will have a way of surfacing to return to bite you right in the ass!" Monica smiled as she pulled a small tape recorder from her pocket.

Dr. Johnson's face paled as his color and healthy glowed quickly drained. His mouth fell open.

"Close your mouth before something flies in, or in your case fly out. I just loved the little part of how money is power and you can never have too much of it. Well in your case I hope that you are right because you are definitely going to need it. Oh by the way. . .see ya' in court." Monica slammed the door causing Dr. Johnson to jump as the frosted glass rattled in the pane.