Page 46 of The Prez

“What the fuck happened?” I ask, fuming. “What did you do?”

Omari’s face pales and his bottom lip trembles. He bursts into tears, holding his middle as he walks to a room further down the hall. I follow behind him, taking long strides to get to Little Raf.

He pushes the door open and there’s my nephew, lying on his stomach, mouth open in his slumber. What’s wrong? Why is he here? What?—

As I approach, I see hives marring his face, his arms, and the skin of his back that I can see. His face is red from crying, tears tracking his face.

I pull a chair over, wanting to touch him, but not wanting to hurt him. Fuck, those hives look painful. I grab his hand, the only place that doesn’t seem to have any of those angry red bumps.

“What happened, Omari?” My voice is soft with worry now instead of the gruff tone I took with him in the hallway. I shouldn’t have shouted.

His sniffling has me lifting my head. He can’t meet my eyes, but he looks so fucking down and hurt. “I made breakfast for dinner.” He stops as another sob breaks free of his throat. “Grits, eggs, and bacon. I fed him some bacon and he liked it. Not a lot, just a tiny piece for him to gnaw on. Then, I gave him some grits when they cooled down. That was fine too. But the eggs …” He lowers himself to a chair by the door, putting his face in his hands as he cries. “It was almost instant. After I fed him the eggs, he started vomiting and those hives popped up. His tongue started swelling and it sounded like his breathing was labored, like it was hard for him to take a deep breath. I got him here as soon as I could. I tried to call you, but you didn’t answer.” He cries more and my heart breaks.

He didn’t know. It wasn’t something he did on purpose. Fuck, why did I blame him? Omari is responsible, way more responsible than me. He would never do anything to hurt Little Raf. He stuck around when he was afraid of me, just to make sure Little Raf had someone. Why would it ever enter my mind that Omari was the cause of Little Raf being here?

“I’m so sorry,” Omari cries, his sobs loud in the room. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt him. Oh god, what if it was worse? What if—” He doesn’t finish, overtaken by his sobs again.

“Come here, precioso.” I hold my hand out for Omari, but he just cries harder. “Omari, baby. Come here.”

He lifts himself from the chair and walks over to me heavily. I pull him down to my lap and hold him while he cries, his tears drifting down my neck and soaking my shirt. I rub his back gently, shushing him. “It’s okay, baby.”

“It’s not,” he whispers. “I told you we’d be fine and we ended up here. I’ve never been so scared in my life, Raf. I didn’t know what to do.”

“You did it. You got him here for help. You did good. I’m sorry I blamed you.”

“I deserve it,” he says morosely.

“No, you don’t,” I tell him with conviction. Omari looks at me with wide, wet eyes. “You didn’t know. I’m not sure about Little Raf’s dad, but my family has no allergies. There was no way you could have guessed that he would have one. I just …” Iblow out a long breath. “This is the same call I got with his mother. I thought he was …”

“I tried to tell Zeke what was going on, but service here is shitty. All he could make out was I was in the emergency room.”

A doctor enters the room before we can talk more. “Are you the guardian of the child?” she asks, meeting my eyes.

“We both are,” I say, and meet Omari’s surprised eyes before turning back to the doctor. “Will he be alright?”

“Yes, he had a moderate allergic reaction to eggs. Not enough where he went into anaphylactic shock, but it did induce vomiting, hives, reddening of the eyes, and a slightly swollen tongue. We administered Benadryl to see if we could calm the reaction, which we did. But he still has visible hives, so we’ll go ahead and give him more.”

“What do we do?” Omari asks in a whisper.

“For now, stay away from eggs. His pediatrician can set him up with an allergist and you both can see how severe the reaction is. There will be an allergy test but it will be in a controlled environment, so no need to worry. Monitor him over the next few days. I’ll put in a prescription for meds you can feed him with applesauce to help with the hives and if he has an upset tummy.”

The doctor walks over to Little Raf and turns him over. He whines when he opens his eyes. They’re bloodshot, but I’m not sure if it’s from tiredness or because of the allergic reaction. She hums to him as she feeds him some medication from a syringe she had in her hand. Little Raf tries to spit it out, but she’s a pro, making sure he takes it all. “There you go. We’ll come back and check on him in an hour,” she says, walking over to our side of the bed. She places Little Raf in Omari’s outstretched hands. “Good job getting him here, Dad. He’s going to be just fine.” Neither of us correct her.

The door shuts behind her in a soft click. Little Raf looksup at Omari, his eyes blinking slowly in his tiredness. He reaches a hand up to rest on Omari’s cheek as he dozes off. Silent tears drip down Omari’s face as he looks down at Little Raf.

“I’m sorry, big man. I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

We sit at the hospital for a few more hours, making sure the Benadryl works. The hives go away and the redness from Little Raf’s eyes disappears. I breathe a sigh of relief when the doctor says we’re free to go and a nurse enters our room with discharge papers.

“You have visitors,” the nurse tells us, a look of fear on his face.

“Visitors in the emergency room?” Omari asks tiredly as he packs up Omari’s diaper bag. I have the baby resting against my shoulder, his soft breaths drifting over me. His deep, even breathing gives me hope that I have the chance to make things better as his guardian.

When we step out of the room, Jace, Reaper, and my other brothers that stayed behind rush over, crowding us.

“Jace. What are you all doing here?” I ask.

“Zeke told us you were here with Baby Rafael. We came to check on him. See if you need anything.”

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