His Wet Nurse

Face offs (32)

She leaned in closer, savoring the scent of baby Sam before placing a gentle kiss on his chubby cheek. He was fast asleep in her arms, exhausted from crying during the pediatrician's appointment. Sam had insisted on her presence, clinging to her throughout the examination while she comforted him with soft coos and soothing murmurs as the doctor attended to him.

"You love him like he's yours," Otis remarked from the driver's seat, meeting Jema's eyes through the rearview mirror.

"Shh, you'll wake him," Jema replied, placing her finger to her lips to quiet Otis. Despite this, she smiled in acknowledgment of Otis's observation.

It was true—Jema loved Sam deeply as if he were her child. She longed for him to be hers, imagining the joy of witnessing his milestones: crawling, teething, taking his first steps, and eventually growing into a fine young man. She yearned for mornings spent preparing breakfast for him at the kitchen island, waving goodbye as he headed off to school, and eagerly awaiting his return to hear stories about his day. Jema envisioned Sam becoming the heartthrob of his school, hoping he inherited most of his father's appealing traits—except for the brooding demeanor and perpetual frown.

Despite experiencing significant losses at a young age, Jema had learned not to indulge in dreams of happy endings or lasting peace. She understood that life could change in an instant, destroying everything she had built. It was a hard lesson to accept, especially when she looked at the infant in her arms and couldn't help but envision a world of fantasies—a utopia where they were safe from enemies, where she was his birth mother, and where she could witness his growth without fear of separation or job loss. The idea of losing her connection with him filled her with dread, longing to secure her place in his life.

As they drove home, passing a playground where children joyfully loitered with their families and pets, Jema was reminded of the profound responsibilities of parenthood. It was something she had desired with Jacob; she cherished the idea, igniting hope in her heart to build a family with him. However, Jacob's demeanor had shifted after discussing parenthood, claiming suddenly that he had to leave for a job.

This rejection had left Jema heartbroken, the memory of Jacob's initial enthusiasm contrasting sharply with his subsequent coldness and excuses. It was a painful reminder of how fragile dreams could be, especially those involving family and lasting happiness.

She had prodded him, coaxing Jacob to share his deepest fears, only to have him disappear in the middle of the night, leaving her alone and cold in their bed.

"Is something wrong, ma?" Otis's voice shook Jema out of her somber thoughts.

Jema wondered why he asked, but as she prepared to respond, she realized why. Her voice was heavy, her words reluctant to come out. "I'm fine, Otis, just reminiscing about someone from the past," she managed to reply, and he handed her a tissue to wipe her wet face.

"Fiona left me," Otis blurted out, blinking awkwardly.

"I heard. I'm so sorry to hear that," Jema offered a sad smile to the quirky man before her. It seemed to have taken a great deal of effort for him to share such personal details, evident in the way he shifted uncomfortably in his seat as if the admission pained him deeply. "I always thought you guys would overcome everything together."

"We would have. I would have if she stayed," Otis replied, his voice heavy with regret.

"But she didn't. Why?" Jema inquired gently.

He hesitated, his fists clenching tightly on the steering wheel as he guided them toward home. "She chose money over me," he admitted bitterly.

"Oh, man. She doesn't deserve you then," Jema replied emphatically.