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It was definitely not the first kid that had been abandoned during one of his shifts. Far from it. He had seen many of them in thirty-one years. Yet, that day, it was hitting him differently.
The anger, the frustration and the hopelessness briefly parted to reveal his aching heart. It bled as he delicately picked her up to hold her against his torso. Her head rested on his shoulder as she looked around a little dazed from her rhinovirus. He hoped she didn’t mind the examination gloves too much.
He gently bounced her up and down as he shushed her soothingly.
“Someone must have been in a bad way to walk away from you, little one.” The murmured words escaped straight out of the open wound inside his chest.
~~~~~~~
Michael was holding his Mama’s hand tight as they stood on the doorstep of Bubbe’s apartment. One minute he had been sitting at home with Mama, looking through his picture books next to her in the living room, and the next she was buckling him in the car, driving them to Bubbe.
“Can you keep him for me for a little while?” Malka asked her mother with a smile. “There is something I need to take care of.”
“Is everything alright?” A deep line had appeared on Esther’s forehead, showing her worry.
“Can you or can you not?” Malka pushed. “If you can't, I'll just take him with me. But I would rather not.”
“No, no, of course not, I don't mind. You know I never mind watching him. Come here, Michael.” She enjoined, holding out her hand for the little boy to seize it.
He hesitantly took a step forward. He didn’t want to let go of his Mama’s hand. He felt uneasy. He loved Bubbe, but there was something wrong. He could feel it. And he didn’t like it. But he didn’t have the words to express it.
“Come on.” Malka gently pushed him forward. “Be a good boy.”
He took another step and his sweaty hand slipped from his Mama’s. Bubbe took hold of his other hand and brought him to her side. He turned around, looking up at Malka with his big, soft brown eyes.
Malka’s smile faltered for a second. She saw him every time she looked at him. She couldn’t take it anymore. She knew it wasn’t Michael’s fault. And it was why she needed to do it. Before her mind could make it his fault. Before she could start resenting him even more than she already did.
“Be good for Bubbe.” She told him.
“Don’t leave, Mama.” His lip quivered.
“Mama will be back soon.” Esther soothed. “You’ll see. And in the meantime, we will keep busy. I have new buttons to sort. You like helping me sort buttons, don’t you?”
Michael nodded, because it was true, but everything was wrong. Every beat of his heart screamed it.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
“Take me with you, Mama.” He pleaded.
Malka took a step back. She shook her head. “Promise to be good for Bubbe.”
Michael hesitated. He felt if he agreed, Mama would leave. But he didn’t want Mama to leave.
“You know he is always good.” Esther came to his rescue. “When has he not been good?”
Malka ignored her. “Promise me, Michael.” She stared him down.
“I promise.” He murmured, looking away. Why did he feel guilty? When he had done nothing wrong? Maybe he had. Had he been bad and not realized? Was Mama punishing him?
Malka brusquely turned around and walked away, leaving him with his interrogations and his guilt.
“Always in a hurry.” Esther sighed, as if speaking to herself. “Stay safe!” She called out after her daughter.
Malka did not turn back. Esther sighed again and took Michael inside.
~~~~~~~
This last shift was such a shit show. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was. Really, when was the ER not a mess?
They were swamped and it would not get better anytime soon. Not with the diversions from West Bridge that kept coming in whether they wanted them or not. And the only patient he truly wanted to see, Duke, still hadn’t shown his face. Just great, really.
Langdon was still there, still in his ER. And while Robby did feel glad he had gotten help, he also really, really would rather not have had him come back to his ER. For selfish and unselfish reasons. Because he really didn’t need to add another potential problem to his list of things to monitor and watch out for. And because Langdon didn’t need to be plunged back into the place where he had first developed his addiction, where he had reached rock bottom, where he had used and where temptation was everywhere. Besides, Robby wasn’t sure Langdon was truly ready to come back to work. He didn’t seem ready.
And because this day was of course never going to end or get better, it had to be the day Louie had died, the consequences of his alcoholism finally catching up to him. More than twenty five years after losing his wife and kid in a car accident, he had finally gotten to join them. It was such a depressing life. One spent waiting almost three decades to die after he had lost everything that mattered to him.
Oh and now, on top of it all, he needed to add talking to Whitaker to his to-do-list. The only person he thought he didn’t need to worry about. And who was now in over his head with the wife of a former deceased patient and her kid and farm, according to Santos. Just fantastic.
He sighed heavily and rubbed the back of his neck just as he heard piercing cries coming to his ears.
Baby Jane Doe was wailing her discomfort and her hurt. She was calling for someone who would most likely never return to her again.
He walked in the direction of her cries to see what was happening and arrived just as Jesse exited the bay. He almost went in in his wake but stopped just shy of the door to peds. Santos was still in there, hovering above the incubator.
“Hey, little Miss Sunshine. Is it time for you to take a little nap? That would be so fucking nice. Yes, it would. I'm starting to understand why you got left here. Hey, shh.”
His heart seized brutally and his jaw clenched hard, but before he could burst in, Santos started singing. It wasn’t a song he thought he had heard before. She had a beautiful voice.
Baby Jane Doe’s cries mixed with tagalog until only Santos’ words and mournful melody remained.
~~~~~~~
It was late in the evening when Esther’s doorbell rang again. So late, in fact, that she was laying in bed with Michael. She had had much trouble convincing him to get into bed and say the shema. He had been too angsty. The only way she had found to make him comply was by allowing him to sleep in her bed.
She was trying to get him to sleep by brushing the hair at the back of his neck and singing him an old song her own mother had sung to her, and her mother’s mother before that, and so on for generations, but he was still awake, rubbing his ear compulsively in an attempt to self-soothe.
“Stay here.” She ordered him. “Don’t leave the bed.”
She got up, donned her bathrobe and went to her door. She really hoped it was Malka who was finally returning. And she hoped she would be sober. She knew this whole situation was hard on her, but getting drunk was not the answer. And Michael didn’t need to see that. At least, this time - if that was what she had been doing - she hadn’t taken him with her.
Esther had tried helping her. She had offered Malka to come back home, for the two of them to live with her. She had offered to take Michael more often. She had offered to help her move to a new city - she would even have followed them. She had offered to pay for professional help, even for rehab. But Malka had always refused it all.
It was hard to help someone who didn’t want to be helped.
She opened her door feeling a weight greater than the sum of her years on her shoulders.
She was met with the sight of two police officers. It didn’t quite register in her mind. Where was Malka? Why was the police here? So late at night?
“Mrs. Robinavitch?”
“I… Yes?”
“Are you the mother of a Miss Malka Robinavitch?”
It all felt as if it were a dream. “Yes, I am. She is my daughter.” She heard herself answer, but it felt as if someone else had been talking.
“We have reason to believe we found an individual matching your daughter’s description.”
“You… Where is Malka? Did… Did she do something? Where is she?”
The man who had been talking so far looked uncomfortable. His partner didn’t look as if he was faring better.
“It’s… I’m afraid she is dead.”
Esther’s brain refused to understand it. “My Malka?” She was dumbfounded. “No. No, it can’t be right. She said she was coming back.” Had she?
“I… I’m sorry, ma’am. But we found a body with Miss Robinavitch’s ID on her. The description matched. She committed suicide. She drank a great quantity of alcohol mixed with prescribed medication and… and she put a plastic bag over her head. I’m sorry, ma’am. She was found dead on the scene.”
“No, no, no, it can’t be her. It’s not possible. You don’t understand. She… No. There must be a mistake. She left Michael here! She… No. No.” Esther shook her head helplessly, horror taking possession of her.
The police officer who hadn’t said a word held up a picture in front of her. It was Malka in her car. She recognized the seat cover.
She felt overwhelmed with the need to put her hands around her own throat as if it could help her breathe. She was suffocating. Air was refusing to get into her lungs. Was this how Malka had felt?
She sensed a shadow behind her. Dread seized her. How much had he heard? Why was he there? She had told him to stay in her room! She turned around.
“Michael! I told you not to leave the bed!”
“Bubbe…”
“Why did you leave the bed?!” It was too much. She was overwhelmed by grief. She wanted to rip her hair out. She wanted to scream. She wanted to stab her own heart. She wanted to go back in time. “Why didn’t you listen?!” She yelled instead.
“I’m sorry.” He whimpered.
The slap made contact with his cheek before she could realize what she had done. He burst into tears on the spot and turned on his heels, running away into the apartment again. She brought her hand to her mouth in shock.
“Michael!” She screamed after him. “Michael! I’m sorry!”
She wanted to run after him but the police officer reeled her back into the conversation.
“Ma’am. I’m sorry, but we need your statement, ma’am. Do you confirm that this person is Malka Robinavitch?”
She felt as if she was killing her own daughter when she answered. “Yes, it’s her.”
~~~~~~~
He wasn’t sure what had compelled him to go to Baby Jane Doe’s bedside. It had been a very long shift. He was technically finally off the clock. Leaving had been all he had wanted all day long, all year long, really. And yet, he was still there.
”Whoa, whoa, whoa, you're not my mother.”
“Yeah? Well, too bad. You need one.”
“No, I had one. She left. I don't need another one.”
“OK, I'm sorry. I didn't know.”
“Nobody knows. Who needs to know? Who gives a fuck?”
Sentences from his conversation with Dana danced in his mind. He regretted his outburst. He regretted many things. Guilt clung to him like molasses. It was smothering him.
He offered his finger to Baby Jane Doe who took it. She was still awake. She seemed to have calmed down. Tylenol had helped bring her fever down. She was due for another bottle, and maybe a change.
He checked her diaper. Definitely a change. Sooner rather than later, lest she develop a rash.
“I'm worried about the people that I care about.”
He grabbed supplies with one hand and swiftly undressed her to clean her. He tenderly brushed her soft belly. She seemed to enjoy it. She was making sounds at him, shaking her tiny fist as she offered him an open smile.
Yeah, she was definitely older than six weeks, probably close to eight. He secured the tapes of her brand new diaper and buttoned her onesie again.
“There we go.”
She waved her hands again, shaking her tiny body in her cot.
“What is it?” He asked. “Do you want something, libinke?” He offered his index finger again and she happily seized it.
“Oooh, was that it?” He playfully shook her hand. “Did you want my finger? Yeah?”
She smiled again.
Robby chuckled. “So many smiles for me. Someone is feeling better.”
She let go of his finger - getting momentarily distracted by her foot - and he grabbed a pre-prepared bottle.
“Yeah? What if I don't come back?”
He lifted her up, gently, and supported her weight against him, a hand at the back of her head, the bottle tucked inside a big pocket of his cargo pants.
“Shhh, shhh. Let’s get you some air.” He murmured, softly. “I think the sun is setting. It’ll be nice, you’ll see. Better than here.”
~~~~~~~
“I’m sorry, bubbele. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.” Esther was apologizing to Michael who was hiding under her bed. The police officers had gone.
Michael wasn’t looking at her. He was on his side, turning his back on her, and she could see his shoulders shake with his silent sobs.
She already knew what people would say. She was well aware of how much judgment they imparted on her daughter, of how they all considered her responsible.
It was a fact well known that every single raped woman had been asking for it. Just like every woman who got an abortion was a child murderer. And every single, unmarried mother was a whore. There was no winning.
Esther felt angry at the world which had failed her Malka. She felt angry at herself for not having been able to protect her baby. She decided she wouldn’t make the same mistake with Michael.
She decided no one needed to know. Malka deserved dignity in death. She had had an accident. A tragic accident. Nothing more.
“Come on, bubbele, come out.” She tapped the floors to try and get her grandson’s attention. “I’m sorry, hartsele. Come out, please.”
Michael ignored her and cried under her bed until he tuckered himself out. Only then did Esther get up and crouched on the other side to get him out. She lifted him in her arms and laid him on the mattress.
He was so light. Too light.
She laid down by his side and covered the two of them with her blankets. She protected him with her own body, curling around him.
“I’m afraid it’s going to be just you and me for a little while, Mishka.” She whispered as she watched his chest slowly raise and fall.
Tears stung her eyes. She cried silently. Her voice shook as she sang the lullaby. In the morning she would start sitting shiva. In the morning she would talk to Michael. In the morning she would get his things. In the morning she would figure out their future.
But that night, she let her grief consume her.
~~~~~~~
“Hey, clear something up for me, will you?” Jack rasped as he approached Robby who was sitting on the low wall next to his bike outside. “You’re not planning on abducting that kid and driving off with her, right?”
Robby let out a short laugh. “No. No, I’m not. I just wanted her to have five minutes outside of that ER. Apparently CYF is not planning on getting her until Monday. Something about this being a holiday weekend. And nothing getting done during a holiday weekend.” He had a scoff of disbelief. “And of course it’s impossible to get her a bed upstairs in pediatrics.”
Jack nodded as he sat beside Robby. “So you’re playing dad.”
“Abba.” Robby corrected him, surprising himself with the seriousness of his tone. “I was just giving her her bottle, anyway.” He said, trying to be dismissive, but not really succeeding.
“Hm-hm.”
She had taken her bottle like a champ. He had burped her and now she was merrily snoozing in his lap, supported by his strong forearms.
“She’s just getting some air.” He mumbled, his gaze lost in front of him.
“She is gonna need to come back inside, eventually.” Jack pointed out, not unkindly.
“I know.”
They didn’t say anything for a while. Things had been weird between them recently. Their… relationship had come to a head on one memorable evening some months ago after Robby had bought his motorcycle. Jack had promptly gone back to taking shifts with TEMS. Robby had kept working on his motorcycle. Jack had taken more shifts. Robby had decided to start a short-lived thing with Noelle. Jack had very professionally shoved him a few hours ago to break up their parting hug…
It was for the best. Jack didn’t need to lose another lover. Losing an ex was preferable. Not ideal, but preferable.
“So this is it, then? You’re really leaving.” Jack broke the silence.
Robby didn’t answer. He readjusted the baby’s hat, she barely stirred, but crunched her face. It did all sorts of things to his heart.
He felt the sudden urge to give her back to someone else. Anyone else. Who had he been kidding? He couldn’t be good news for that kid. He shouldn’t have gone to her. He should have let someone else do it. She didn’t deserve that kind of betrayal.
He handed her to Jack before he could do any more harm and burst into tears the second she left his arms.
“Hey, hey, hey.” Jack soothed. “What is it?”
It took a moment for Robby to answer. The words were stuck in his throat.
“I can’t do it.” He shook his head. His features were distorted by his pain.
“What can’t you do?” Jack asked softly.
“I can’t leave.” He let out in a miserable tone.
“You don’t have to. You don’t have to leave.” Jack had one arm supporting Baby Jane Doe the best he could and another around Robby.
“She did nothing wrong.” Michael cried.
“Of course not.” Jack wasn’t quite sure what was happening, but he knew now was not the time to question Robby.
“She’s good enough. She’s plenty good enough.” Michael’s lips were quivering, his cheeks were inundated with tears, getting his beard damp.
“Of course, she is. We all know she is.”
“It’s not her fault.” He shook his head.
“How could it be? She is just an innocent bystander. How could she be responsible for the madness of adults? She did nothing wrong. She was just left behind.”
Michael’s tears intensified. An ugly sob broke out of him. “She left.”
“Who?” Jack was confused. “Her mom?”
“My Mama.” Robby sobbed. “And I was gonna do the same thing.” He whimpered. “I was gonna do the same thing to her.”
“But you didn’t. You aren’t.” Jack vehemently shook his head. There was urgency in his voice.
Baby Jane Doe seemed to feel everyone’s upset and decided to add her own. Her mouth opened and she let out unhappy wails. Jack tried to cradle her, to no avail. She did not want to be soothed by him.
“Come on, take her back.” Jack whispered, gently but determinedly pushing her into Robby’s arms.
Robby hiccuped and brought her back against his chest. She instantly settled, but didn’t go back to sleep, as if wary that something would happen if she did. “I’m sorry.” He murmured. “I’m sorry.”
Jack rubbed his back until a flow of people materialized at the entrance of the ER and he decided they needed to go somewhere quieter.
“Let’s get out of the way, hm?” He softly told Robby, his forehead close to his.
Robby nodded, still sniffling, and he let Jack lead him back inside to the unoccupied family room.
Jack spent a long time staring at Robby through the window in the door, trying to think of something, anything that would make this right. He was glad Shen was there tonight. Because someone definitely needed to stay with Robby. But Robby needed to stay with Baby Jane Doe. And both Robby and Baby Jane Doe needed to leave that goddamn ER.
He huffed. He was about to start pacing in frustration when a light bulb went off in his head. He got his phone out and dialed a number he should have known to call from the start.
It rang and rang until a disgruntled voice picked up.
“Hey, Caleb, have you gone home yet?” Jack didn’t let him kvetch, not this time, they would make up for it later. “I was wondering how that fostering license of yours was? Still up and running? You’re not harboring anyone at the moment, right?”
He heard Caleb sigh forcefully on the other end of the line.
“My foster license is not a babysitting license, Jack. I love your nieces and nephews, and I know it’s a holiday weekend, but this ain’t a good time.”
“Really not what I was going to ask. But I’m glad to know you like them.” He would have laughed if his heart wasn’t already laying at his feet, shattered. “No, I need you to foster two legal adults and a baby. Two months old. It’s important.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. “You’re lucky I don’t like celebrating the fourth.” He muttered. “How old are they? Are they still in high school? Dropped out? What’s the situation?”
“They’re fifty and fifty-five.”
There was another beat of silence. When Caleb talked again, his voice was a lot softer. “Can you bring him over? I need to call CYF. I suppose this is about Baby Jane Doe, can you handle her discharge papers?”
“I’m already on it. We’ll leave the hospital soon. It’s… I’m sorry. I couldn’t think of anyone else to call. Not… not in this situation.”
“No, no. You were right. It was the right call.” Caleb breathed in and out to steady himself. “I’ll get things ready, we’ll sort this out. Better this than a casket.”
“His mom left. She left.” He didn’t know what else to say. “The kind of journey you don’t come back from.”
“Yeah. I gathered.” Caleb paused. “Let’s help him break the cycle. One step at a time, alright?”
“Yeah. One step at a time.” Jack repeated as he looked at where Robby was sitting, away from prying eyes, with the baby safely tucked in his arms. He could see his lips moving and her mesmerized eyes looking back at him. He knew what he was singing. There was no doubt in his mind. It was the same lullaby he always sang to babies. An old song. In Hebrew or Yiddish, he had forgotten. But he knew it was that same mournful song. He wondered how many times his Bubbe had sung it to him. And whether his mother had sung it too.
He hung up with Caleb and did a swift job of dealing with the administrative bullshit. He had two people to bring home somewhere safe. At long last.