Page 51 of My Little Doe
“I won’t…”
“Lord Quinnlyn…” Then she lowered her voice so that I couldn’t make out what she was saying.
“I have it under control,” he said.
“No, you don’t. Whatever lie you need to tell yourself,” she said.
“Is this the only reason you came? Because I have a phone,” he said.
“No, I came to do a checkup on Zalayuh,” she told him.
“She just had one with Dr. Arthur.”
“Ya, she did, but I’m also her midwife, and your Titi.”
“You didn’t take care of her while she was pregnant or deliver the baby,” he said.
“I didn’t need to care for her while she was pregnant or deliver her, to take care of her. She’s a woman who has been through something you or Dr. Arthur wouldn’t understand,” she said.
“Yeah… I guess,” he said.
“There is no guessing,” she said.
“You’re right, I don't understand, but I picked him up and carried him. I was preparing… never mind,” he said.
She said something in Creole that I didn’t understand. I continued eating the sandwich and chips. The po’boy was so good. I'd had one before, at a friend's house. They lived in Mississippi before they came to Townsend. I was nearly done when they finished their conversation, and she walked inside.
“Hi, Zalayuh,” she said.
“Hey, Lina,” I said.
She walked over to the table, pulling the chair across from me and taking a seat. Quinnlyn remained outside. I wasn’t sure why. Just as I could hear what they said outside, I was sure he could hear everything better than I.
“Dr. Arthur said I looked good,” I told her.
“He called and let me know, but I wanted to check on you anyway for myself. I lost a baby before, I know what it’s like,” she said.
I lifted my gaze from the table and stared into her eyes. She and Quinnlyn had similar eyes. Amber brown, probably the lightest shade of brown with warm flecks in them.
“I’m sorry that we’re in the same club,” I said.
“Men don’t understand what it’s like, even if they were the dad,” she said.
“I don’t think the dad cared...” I said.
“That’s his loss and his forever guilt,” she said.
“He knew his dad had me as a prisoner. He didn’t care,” I told her.
“And now ya stay with the person who held you,” she said.
“Somethin’ I struggle with. I hate him… sorry, I know he’s your nephew,” I said. She stayed quiet and looked at me with compassion. I continued, “I want to forgive him because he did save my life, but I want to beat the hell out of him for his part.”
“Maybe you should beat him up,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think you can really hurt him. He used to wrestle with his siblings, and he often let Callie take her anger out on him. She was so angry after their mother died,” she said.
