Probably Ruby by Lisa Bird-Wilson

Author:Lisa Bird-Wilson [Bird-Wilson, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2022-04-05T00:00:00+00:00

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Grace refused to sign the papers. She kept the infant with her for more than a week. Without the signed papers, the Warden had no choice but to allow Grace and the baby to stay in the medical wing. “This is highly unusual,” the Warden repeated, over and over until Grace blocked her voice.

Dark-haired “but not too dark,” the social worker remarked more than once. The Warden nodded as if grateful to finally be able to approve of something. Gradually Grace experienced less pain and fewer tugging stitches, though her bound breasts nervously tingled each time the baby cried. But she wasn’t dark, not dark at all. She could be “passed.” The Warden and the social worker both agreed.

Like an exam, Grace thought. Finally, she seemed to have done something right. She passed the baby. Like a kidney stone, complete with a little bit of blood and more pain than seemed right. Like a baton, in a relay race. She passed the baby.

Over her time in the medical wing, Grace sensed the Warden and the social worker being quietly patient. As if they knew she would sign the papers, eventually. So they waited. Grace felt them waiting.

And while they waited, unbeknownst to Grace, just to be sure, just to be on the safe side, they selected a couple who couldn’t afford to be too choosy. They picked carefully: perhaps less deserving, not quite as young, maybe not quite so crisp and clean; an odor of alcohol on his breath, a shadow on his cheek, a hint of neurosis like perfume in her wake. All concealed from Grace. Perhaps even—to give them the benefit of the doubt—subconscious to those who make such decisions. Still, this couple was better than her, they thought. Better than a teenage girl. Yes, this would do. A couple who maybe couldn’t afford to complain too loudly should the baby begin to show its roots.

“Keep the baby out of the AIM program,” the Warden advised the social worker. “With one white parent, you might be able to do it,” she added. “Besides, we don’t need the girl’s mother complaining.”

“What do I do about the father’s identity? For the file?” the social worker asked.

“What’s the father’s last name?” the Warden mused, glancing over the papers. “Black? That’s innocuous enough. You can leave his name there, that should be fine.”

“What about the ethnicity question?” the social worker persisted. The Warden sighed.

“Use your imagination,” she said, handing over the file and turning to leave the room. She paused in the doorway, thinking, looking at the social worker. “French,” she finally declared and closed the door behind her.

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