“It could have been an upset tummy. Maybe an allergy to formula,” said the nurse. “I’ve given your sister another brand to try. But we’d like to take some blood tests in case there was a seizure or something else.”

“Like what?”

“I’ll let the doctor go over all of that with you,” said the nurse. “But we recommend more frequent burping and holding the infant upright for longer periods of time, especially while feeding. I’ve shown your sister here how to do it.” The nurse nodded toward Deena.

“Okay,” I said.

“I’ll leave you alone,” said the nurse as she was going, then added, “The doctor will be in as soon as he can.”

Deena sat on the bed, which filled practically the whole space. I sat on the stool. Where the nurse had been.

“Have you seen her ears?” Deena asked.

“Yeah I guess.”

“Look.” She peeled up the pink hat. “They’re like yours. Little triangle ears.”

I smirked and shook my head. “Ears are ears,” I said, looking at the baby’s. I could see what she meant. But I hated when Deena teased me about mine.

“Hi, everyone,” said a man who walked in. He clicked a pen in his left hand and stuck out his right. “I’m Dr. Jefferson, how are we tonight?”

I looked at the floor as the doctor explained what he knew. The baby was dehydrated.

“And the yellow color is indicative of jaundice. Fairly common at this age,” the doctor said. “What is she, about a week or a few days old?”

“Yeah,” I said. I looked at my hands. The finger with no nail. I turned my hands up and down, the palm, the back. The scars and calluses. My stubby fingernails. It would be good to get back to work. But I had two months until the job in Florida.

The doctor was going on about crap. Using medical lingo. They were concerned about her getting enough to eat. They wanted to observe her, maybe give her fluids. He said they would run some tests. Get a sense of what was going on. Could be allergies. Could be more serious. He talked like a game-show host or some shit. Casual. Upbeat.

“How much longer will this take?” I asked.

“That’s hard to say. Several hours, at least,” said the doctor, taking off his glasses.

“But it’s almost midnight.”

The doctor explained our options. He could admit the baby for observation. In that scenario, we’d sleep in a hospital room. Or we could wait in the ER for the tests, which might take several hours.

“Is there a place to sleep in the ER?” asked Deena.

“No, unfortunately. And in the emergency room, we can’t guarantee that you’ll be our top priority,” he said. “That will depend on who else happens to walk in those doors at any given moment.”