“One big push now. Let’s go,” Mama said.

Pressure built in her pelvis again until she thought she might explode from the force of it. Then what felt like sharp nails ripped her insides apart. When she thought she might die there in her bed, her eyes shifted from Mama to Eli, memorizing their faces because she was sure she’d never see them again.

In an instant, though, the baby slipped from between her legs and all that pain disappeared as fast as if none of it had ever happened.

When Mama placed the baby boy on her slightly deflated stomach, Ruth’s arms wouldn’t move at first. They seemed wooden.

The baby slid in her hands like a hard-boiled egg. His black hair soft like the belly of a kitten. Thick white paste covered him, and his face was swollen, eyes scrunched in a cranky way like he wanted to smash the alarm clock. She could make out a small burgundy spot on his cheek that Mama would later tell her was a port wine stain, an abnormality of his tiny blood vessels. Nothing to worry about. God marks some babies as special, that’s all is how she put it. Still, that baby was the ugliest thing Ruth had ever seen, and she found it hard to believe he had come from her body.

This baby’s face would always represent a mistake she couldn’t undo. It would haunt her. Somewhere deep inside, even back then, she knew this. After nine months of planning for how this little person would fit into her life, finally seeing him in the flesh, not as an abstraction, hit her hard. No matter where she went in the world, she couldn’t escape what she’d created, and that scared her.

When Mama and Eli turned their backs, Ruth lifted the baby’s head slightly, so her lips were close to his ear.

“I hate you,” she whispered.

“I heard that.” Mama dipped a washcloth in warm water and returned to wipe goo from the baby’s eyes. “Don’t say that to your child. You’ll regret it.”

The baby must have known they were talking about him. Had he heard what she’d said? He opened his eyes for the first time, like a light turning on, and she could feel his innocent milky-eyed gaze on her. She couldn’t take her eyes off his.

The reality of her situation gnawed at her. She remembered the agreement with her family. If she kept the baby, she couldn’t go away to college. Everything she’d worked so hard for would be lost and she’d be stuck in Ganton, a town that killed dreams before they took root. But if she let go of her baby, there would be a hole inside her that could never be filled.

“Give him to me, sweetheart. It won’t do you no good to keep holding him,” Mama said. She tapped her granddaughter’s ashy knee. “Close your legs now. You gon’ catch a fly up in there.”

Ruth pressed her knees together, conscious for the first time of her indecent exposure to her grandmother and especially her brother. But she didn’t let go of her son. His skin felt warm and sticky against her chest. She needed more time.

“He’s mine,” Ruth said, as if she were a toddler laying claim to a toy, and she hated how childish she sounded.

What she felt made no sense, not even to herself. This was more than a simple binary choice. She wanted her baby, yet she didn’t. She loved him and hated him at the same time.

Eli had shrunk into the corner of the room, embarrassed maybe by seeing his sister in such a primal state, watching life come into the world for the first time.

The three of them had talked only in vague terms the past nine months, and Ruth hadn’t thought far enough ahead, hadn’t truly visualized the baby living outside her body, a living, breathing person who would require someone to care for him.

The baby fussed in Ruth’s arms, squirming, and she held him tighter. “Where are you going to take him? Can’t you just watch him for me here at the house until I come home for summer break?”

“No, it’s been decided already. Don’t worry about where he’s going. He’ll be just fine.” Mama tugged at the baby’s arm. “Let me have him, honey.” The boy’s eyes pleaded with Ruth. Turning her head away so she couldn’t watch, avoiding his eyes, she slowly released her grip on her son, her own eyes hot with tears.

Eli held Ruth’s arm firmly, as if she might spring from the bed to reclaim her baby. “Hey, sis, you ain’t got to worry about nothing. Stop being hardheaded and let us fix this for you. We got this,” he said.

Mama whispered, “I know you’re mad at me now, but it’s for your own good.”

The linoleum floor creaked under Mama’s heavy footsteps. The baby whimpered before the side door slammed shut.

Thirteen

Ruth

Ruth took her foot off the gas pedal and let the car move slowly through the streets of Grundy. After only one day and night back home, she had to get out of the house. The sky turned pale. It had emptied itself. But within minutes, snowflakes fell on the windshield and melted right away. The night was as confused as she was. The weather had always been unpredictable in this part of the country.

The car windows fogged, and Ruth jammed the defrost button. Winding her way through Grundy, she passed a faded malt liquor ad and empty lots with mangled signs for a braiding salon and a chicken wing joint.

Poverty didn’t discriminate in Ganton, with Blacks and whites both getting their share of hard times. Her headlights shone on two young Black men with short braided hair jostling in the middle of the street. Just the sight of her people made her heart swell with pride. Still, when she heard their raised voices, she clicked the lock button on her car doors, a reflex she wasn’t proud of, and she wondered if they were really jostling or maybe joking. How could she both love and fear her own people?