Chapter 4 — Deja
"Malik, she's so small." DeShawn hovers around Malik, his hands reaching then retreating, not sure how to even go about holding an infant. "She looks just like Deja."
"Do you want to hold her or not?" Malik says.
"Give me my niece."
Malik hands over Jasmine, repositioning DeShawn before letting her go.
"Man, my niece is a beauty." DeShawn plays with Jasmine's fingers. "How's Deja?"
"She's doing—just tired bro." Malik tries to hide his concerns, but DeShawn knows him. "DeShawn, I don't know. One minute, she's fine—nursing Jasmine, changing her diapers, playing with her—and the next, she locks herself inside and all I hear is her crying. Then, Jasmine starts crying. If I ask what's wrong, the girl won't say anything."
DeShawn is puzzled.
"I don't know what to do. It's like Deja is in the Twilight Zone."
"Maybe she's got some issues you don't know about. I mean this ain't normal."
"Yeah but what can it be? I mean—I pay the bills, we live good and she's still not satisfied."
"I don't know bro, but this shit ain't normal. This isn't the first time you said she's been like this." DeShawn rocks Jasmine to sleep. "You called me when she was pregnant telling me the same ole shit. Maybe she needs a shrink."
"Man, I am trying, DeShawn. I've got Jasmine when I get off work, feeding her because Deja won't breastfeed her own daughter. Shit, I change her, cook, do the laundry and still go to work. I don't understand what the fuck her problem is."
DeShawn places Jasmine on a blanket on the floor. He sits down with Malik putting his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Malik, I don't want to be suspicious but something's going on."
"Maybe but it's only been a week since she's got home from the hospital. She's probably still exhausted. It's been a lot." Malik's frustrated, but he doesn't think there's anything to worry about. "The girl's smart and has a lot going for her. I don't think there's anything wrong. She just needs some time to recuperate."
"Anyway, I can't pretend to know what it's like to be in both of your shoes. But from what you're telling me," DeShawn pauses, "and what you've been telling me for months is that it's not getting any better. Take her out somewhere. I know Mom will watch Jasmine. She's here to help whenever you need a break."
Malik slumps in the couch. "Am I not good enough for this girl, DeShawn?"
DeShawn hugs Malik. "You can't be Superman without Lois Lane, Malik." DeShawn feels Malik tears running.
* * *
Jasmine is two-and-a-half months old. Malik wakes up, feeling her squirming on his chest. He also feels a wet puddle pooling on his neck. He opens his eyes and is greeted by Jasmine tiny fist in her mouth, drooling.
"Happy birthday, Daddy!" Deja whispers in Malik's ear before kissing him. "Mommy and Jasmine loves Daddy."
Malik smiles and puts his big hands around Jasmine's back and thanks God. The last two months have been rougher than the previous nine. Yet, Malik had been able to convince Deja to go to see a psychiatrist. Things might be turning a corner but still far from perfect, but Deja's doing better. She locks herself in the bedroom less often now and has slept better. Deja sometimes even runs errands with Jasmine when Malik's at work.
"What does Daddy want for breakfast on his birthday?" Deja says in a baby voice, with her head down close to Jasmine.
"Daddy wants French toast, coffee, some of that slobber from Jazzy and then time with your mommy" Malik takes Jasmine's fist out of her mouth and nibbles it, causing her to coo.
Deja takes Jasmine and goes into the kitchen. Jasmine's in her chair and Deja taps one of her toys; it blinks and sings tunes.
Back in the bedroom, Malik listens to the noises of the freezer opening and closing, the little squeak from the toaster, and the hissing of the coffee maker. He closes his eyes and it's not too long before he hears the pop of the toaster, the clinks of plates and Jasmine's gaga-ing, which wakes him up. Then, he hears the shattering of something followed by a squeal from Jasmine. Malik jumps out of bed.
"Are you ok in here?" Malik rushes finding Jasmine crying as loud as her little lungs can, pieces of a mug drowning in pools of coffee and Deja's head down on the counter.
Malik rubs Deja. "Why don't you get little Jazzy and I'll clean this up, ok?" Deja just cries and runs to the bedroom. The door slams and Malik swallows his pride. He picks up Jasmine and says in her ear, "Daddy's here, Jazzy. Everything will be fine."
After cleaning up the mess, Malik puts little Jasmine to sleep while thinking about Deja.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, Malik goes back into the bedroom and finds Deja getting dressed with her stuff packed. "The Lyft's is two minutes away. Make sure Jasmine has a bottle at three and use that diaper crème over there when you change her." Her eyes meet Malik's what looks like it will be for the last time. Before Malik has a chance to speak, Deja walks to the front door. Malik already knows it's over.
"The car's outside waiting. I'll call you in a few days. Well—just let Jasmine know I love her and take good care of my daughter."
Malik watches Deja walk out, putting his head down, speechless, as the door closes.