Erase the StainChapter 3

The labor progressed faster than expected. Maya’s physical condition was good, the baby’s weight was moderate, and the fetal heart rate remained stable. It was a smooth delivery. As I acknowledged this inwardly, a bitter taste filled my mouth. Profession was profession, personal matters were personal.

I stood by the delivery bed, guiding her to breathe, push, breathe, and push again. Maya’s face was streaked with tears and sweat, gritting her teeth, she strained with my rhythm. In between contractions, she kept speaking, brokenly, as if only talking could lessen her fear.

“My husband said… he said he’d wait outside all night…”

“He also said… if it’s a boy… we’d name him Henry Jr.… meaning ‘peaceful’…”

Henry Jr. A nice name. What did Henry say when we discussed names for our future children? He said not to rush, to wait until his career was more stable. Wait until the mortgage was paid off. Wait until he returned from his business trip. Wait until next month. Wait until next year. I waited for two years, and it turns out he wasn’t waiting for the right moment. He was waiting for someone else to get pregnant.

“Push, one last time.” I pushed down all other thoughts, fully concentrating as I delivered the baby.

A boy. Six pounds, eight ounces. His cry was loud and clear, filling the entire delivery room with his wails. Maya lay exhausted on the bed, her face a mix of tears and sweat, a foolish grin on her lips.

“Is it a boy?”

“Yes.”

“That’s wonderful, he finally has a son.” She emphasized “finally,” as if she had completed some monumental task for Henry.

The labor and delivery nurse took the baby for cleaning, while I performed the final stitches. Maya tilted her head, watching the baby, and suddenly said, “Doctor, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“No, I’m not talking about the delivery.” Her voice was weak but sincere. “My husband had a difficult past. His ex-wife… the woman who clung to him, she got sick and passed away.” My hand, holding the suture needle, paused. “He’s truly a good man with a loyal heart. Every spring, he says he goes to visit her grave, suffering alone.”

“Last spring he took me to San Diego, saying he needed a change of scenery, but he was distracted the whole day. He said he didn’t want his ex-wife to be too lonely by herself there.”

“So I’m especially grateful to fate for bringing me to him. And thank you, for safely bringing our child into this world.” She smiled through her tears. I looked at her young, unguarded face and suddenly found it absurd.

He told this woman I was dead. I was alive and well, working at a hospital three miles away, delivering babies, doing rounds, writing medical charts every day. In his story, I was an ex-wife who had passed away, a dead person used to elicit sympathy.

I finished the stitching, removed my gloves. “Rest for a bit. The nurse will bring the baby to you soon.” Maya hummed in acknowledgment and reached out to stop me. “Doctor, wait. Help me look at something.” She struggled to pull a velvet pouch from a small bag beside her pillow, emptying out a jade ring. Verdant green, with an orchid carved into the silver setting. “My husband said this is a family heirloom his grandmother left him. He told me to wear it after I gave birth, to ward off evil. Do you think it’s valuable?”

I stared at that ring. Only one in the whole world. My mother wore it for twenty years before she died, taking it off her hand and pressing it into mine as she passed. “My little Jasmine, this is for you. Mom has nothing else to leave you.” I had locked it in my jewelry box at home. Henry had told me six months ago that we had been robbed, that the jewelry box was pried open, and my mother’s jade ring and some gold jewelry were stolen. He had even taken me to the police station to file a report.

Now it was on Maya’s hand. Left by his grandmother. To ward off evil for her.

“Quite valuable.” I heard my own voice. “Keep it safe.”

I walked out of the delivery room. The hallway was empty. I leaned against the wall, pulling out my phone. I opened my banking app, navigating to the joint account with Henry. Balance: $1083.46. I scrolled through the transaction history. One by one.

Outgoing, $50,000.

Outgoing, $30,000.

Outgoing, $80,000.

Outgoing, outgoing, outgoing.

Each transaction to the same recipient, the memo always blank. Two years, $410,000 transferred out. My hand, clutching the phone, finally began to shake. Not from fear, but my body was breaking down before my mind.