You Had It Comin'

              I would wake up to the sound of a baby crying and start looking around for it. I couldn’t find it.  I looked all over but I couldn’t find it. Brandon suggested I go see a doctor to see if there was something wrong with my hearing. There wasn’t. So I saw my psychiatrist. He said it was from guilt of losing my own baby. He reassured me there was nothing I could’ve done to stop that from happening. He then asked me if I was taking my medication as he prescribed it. Does he think I’m going crazy?     

              That night after I made dinner, angel-hair pasta with pureed crab meat sauce, I watched how Brandon finished his plate then go back for seconds. I left to go see a neighbor and we watched some show, it might’ve been Project Runway. When I returned Brandon lay on the floor by his chair gasping for each breathe. I guess I should’ve told him there was crab in the sauce seeing that he was allergic to shellfish. In his last breathes he told me I would go to hell for what I had done. I leaned closer to him but not close enough for me to get any physical evidence on him, not that it would matter now; I already had my story planned. I told him I would see him there and his son’s mother too.

              I ran down the hall and banged on my neighbor’s door.

“Help me, oh my God somebody please help me!” I screamed, tears streaming down my face. I was truly saddened by what I had reduced myself to do. She came to the door fast but I knew it was already nothing for anyone to do to save him.

“Carmen, what’s wrong?” She asked her face full of concern. She wasn’t the most honest person, she was quite promiscuous and I didn’t have much respect for her.

“Something’s wrong with Brandon!” I pleaded dragging her towards the direction of my apartment. She followed close behind me. I needed a witness to see the note I had on the floor stating for Brandon not to eat the sauce on the stove and to eat the chicken one I had prepared, still in the refrigerator. I wrote that before Brandon came home. I had it in my pocket until his last gurgle five minutes ago.

“Oh my God, he’s not breathing” I sobbed, knowing his breathing had stopped minutes before. “Call 911!” I shouted. Other neighbors were beginning to gather at my door. I screamed “Does anybody know CPR?” I doubted anyone would, I was right. I had taken a class for my job but I was in such shock, I couldn’t remember how to do it. It happens. I felt bad for taking a father away from his son, but the son was better off. Now if I could get to his mother, I’ll get to her later. I’ll have to wait.

              The ambulance came and drove us to the hospital. I stroked Brandon’s dead head across my cheek. I did wish they still had the life in them to caress my cheek just one more time. We arrived at the hospital where I stood shouting “somebody please help him” as they wheeled his body away hurriedly. I waited at the hospital for over an hour before the news was broke to the family of Brandon and me. It offended me greatly to see his mom cry. I chose to leave the hospital.