Second Chapter: The Baby

My mother was the oldest of four. Emma and Taylor’s mom, Jennifer, was the second oldest. The youngest was Police Uncle. In between Police Uncle and Aunt Jennifer was Uncle John, who had recently gotten married to Aunt Samantha.

I started preschool with Emma when I was three and found it rather pointless. I already knew the alphabet (the Alphabet song was a core part of my repertoire) and I had no problem counting to ten.

My first school year was a year of changes. Perhaps the most important (or significant) change was the addition of another cousin. Uncle John and Aunt Samantha had a baby, and not just a baby, but a baby boy.

Michael Ilsun Han was born on January 14, 1994. I remember looking curiously at the crimson, wrinkled thing wrapped tightly in a blue blanket embroidered with teddy bears. Its’ mouth was open in a silent scream, showing toothless, pink gums; its tongue was curled in the back of its throat, its tiny, red, fists banged furiously against the sides of the crib, its joints and limbs moved with unworldly stiffness.

I stared, slightly horrified, slightly intrigued.

“Isn’t he beautiful?” Aunt Sam squealed. I stared at her with amazement. Jeannie was tugging on my mother’s dress, and my mom pried her off crossly.

Jeannie took one look at the squirming, burgundy face and started to bawl. My mom ignored her and continued to coo at the baby. I was almost three and a half and already had a great sense of being a big sister, and so I sort of picked Jeannie up and dragged my screaming little sister across the living room to where Emma and Taylor were sitting.

Emma was wearing a tiara with the words Happy Birthday, Princess written across the plastic surface in flaking red letters. She had just celebrated her third birthday the week before, and was ignoring the brouhaha the adults were causing on the other side of the room. She didn't even look up when I set Jeannie down on the floor and continued to play absent-mindedly with the fringes of the rug adorning the living room floor. Taylor was in a baby bouncer, and Jeannie, free from my grasp, crawled over next to Taylor, curled up next to her and commenced sucking her toes.

From across the room the sound of cooing and laughing and gurgles from The Baby drifted. I was rather bored and confused by the adults’ strange reactions. It wasn’t like they had never seen a baby before—why, Taylor was hardly walking, and was a baby, too, but they didn’t make so much fuss about her.

The doorbell rang. Emma jumped up, ran down the stairs and struggled for a couple seconds to reach the door handle before she finally swung the door open. Police Uncle stepped in, smiling jovially.

“Hey, girls!” he beamed, stepping out of his clunky boots.

“Police Uncle!” Emma, Jeannie, and I chorused, and ran to hug him. Police Uncle smiled, swept us all up in his arms, and brought us back to the living room where Taylor was crying because we had left her in the baby bouncer

The adults didn’t turn around; they were still too busy looking at The Baby.

“Police Uncle’s here!” Emma shrieked. Aunt Jen turned around.

“Come see The Baby, Jong,” she said, motioning to him.

“Best get down, girls,” Police Uncle said. I dropped off his back disappointedly. Police Uncle strode over to the crib, looked down, smiled, and swung The Baby up, so it was a flash of red face and blue blanket.

“Police Uncle,” I said loudly, “are you going to take us anywhere? You promised, yesterday.”

There was no response.

I got up and tugged on his pant-leg. Jeannie stared at me, bemused, sucking her thumb, again.

“Police Uncle,” I shouted.

Taylor stopped bawling and started to watch me, too. Emma got up and began to pound her little fists into Police Uncle’s leg. He looked down.

“Hey Nat, Emma, what’s up?”

“Are you going to take us to Seven-Eleven?” Emma asked.

Police Uncle laughed, and mussed Emma’s hair affectionately. “Maybe a little later. I’ve never seen this guy before, first nephew. I get to see you girls all the time.”

I scowled, and Emma mimicked my expression.

Police Uncle tried a different attack. “Nat, Emma, Sabrina’s still in the car, you wanna let her out? I think I might have a treat in the glove compartment.” He winked. Emma jumped up and started to run toward the stairs, Jeannie at her heels, still sucking her thumb. I hung back, slightly confused. I felt abandoned by the adults, especially Police Uncle. He had promised.

“Police Uncle, you promised,” I said again.

Police Uncle frowned, and took a deep breath, scratched his chin and closed his eyes. “Hon, I take you there all the time. All the time. So just for today, I’m not going to, okay? Does that make sense? I have to do some Grownup Stuff now, okay?”

I narrowed my eyes. Making gaa-gaa noises at babies didn’t seem like Grownup Stuff to me. But I had, at the tender age of three, not yet figured out how much adults lied. An “I’ll get you a Happy Meal for lunch,” from my grandpa did not seem like a ploy to get me to shut up. I still believed in the importance of the “Grownup Matters” my mother seemed to partake in all the time, though to me they appeared like drawn-out phone calls with her friends. So I shrugged and accepted Police Uncle’s words, and ran after Emma toward his car.

What bothered me more was grandma’s reaction to The Baby.

“A boy! Finally!” grandma had said, laughing. I didn’t see what was so great about boys, anyways. Not like they were much better looking.

My mom said it was because in Korea, boys were everything. They carried the family line, and for grandma’s oldest son to have a boy as a firstborn was a big deal. I barely understood her speech, except for the part about boys being everything. I didn’t think they were everything. In fact, I thought The Baby was rather a nothing.