Delia's Gift (Delia 3)

“Less than four? I think this purse weighs five pounds,” she said, bouncing it in her hands. “So, how long are you staying in the hospital?”

“Two more days. Will you help me go to the NICU?”

“Me?” She looked at the doorway. “How?”

“Help me into that wheelchair,” I said, nodding at it, “and then wheel me there. It’s just up one floor.”

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head.

“Please, Fani. If you are really my friend, you will.”

“Let’s just call a nurse,” she said, and backed up to the door. “Where are the nurses?”

“I told you. They are busy with other patients. It’s nothing hard to do, Fani,” I said, getting up and going to the wheelchair. “Just push.”

She looked at me and then went behind the wheelchair. “I’m sure I’ll get in trouble for doing this.”

“That shouldn’t frighten you. It has never frightened you before,” I told her, and she laughed.

“Where are we going again?”

“One floor up,” I said, and we went to the elevator.

None of the nurses noticed us. They really were busy tending to patients. We went into the elevator and up. Signs directed us to the NICU. When we arrived, an elderly lady in a pink outfit was sitting behind the reception desk. She looked up, smiling.

“I’m here to see my baby,” I said.

“Oh, yes, dear. What’s his name?”

“Adan, Adan Yebarra.”

She nodded, looked at a paper, and then looked up. “There’s no Adan Yebarra, dear. We do have an Adan Bovio.”

“That’s him,” Fani said quickly.

“Oh.” The elderly lady looked at me. “You are his mother?”

“Doesn’t she look like someone who gave birth recently?” Fani replied sharply.

“Let me call in to the nurse,” she said. Her hand shook as she lifted the receiver. “Mrs. Cohen, I have Adan Bovio’s mother here. Yes, I will.” She hung up. “Just to the right of the doors, you will find an automatic sink. There’s a soap dispenser. You have to wash for two minutes. The green light above the sink will go off after two minutes. Both of you.”

“I’m not touching the baby,” Fani said.

“You have to wash anyway,” she replied.

“Whatever,” Fani said. “It’s easier to break into Fort Knox,” she whispered in my ear.

I was too nervous and excited to care. The woman could have told me to put my hands in fire first, and I would have done it. Fani wheeled me in and turned me to the sinks. We then proceeded to do what we had been told.

“Hi,” we heard Nurse Cohen say, and we turned. “I’m with Adan right now, Mrs. Bovio. You can come along. We’re all very pleased with how he’s doing. Don’t be frightened by all the paraphernalia hooked to him.”

I started to say I wasn’t Mrs. Bovio, but Fani nudged me hard, and I stopped.

As the nurse led us past other pods and nurses attending to other premature babies, we heard bells and buzzers. She stopped at Adan’s incubator and said, “Here he is.”

“Wow, he is small!” Fani exclaimed.

I was unable to speak. The wires attached to him and then to monitors, the bandages around his tiny wrists, and the lines in his umbilicus all made him look unreal. I thought his color was good. His hair looked closer to my color than to Adan’s, although I was positive it would change as he got older. He moved suddenly, but he didn’t open his eyes.