Ndidi’s heart thumped in her chest as the automatic doors to the hospital whooshed open. She couldn’t believe that in a few short minutes, she was going to meet her new nephew—her baby sister had a baby of her own now.
Her arms were full with half a dozen balloons with matching blue ribbons wrapped around both of her wrists. She balanced a giant wicker basket in her right arm that was filled with stuffed animals, receiving blankets, pacifiers, tiny newborn snap-front onesies in an assortment of colors and prints, and a copy of a book recommended to her by the bookseller at her favorite bookstore called Julián is a Mermaid, all wrapped in iridescent cellophane. In her left arm, she balanced another matching basket, also wrapped in iridescent cellophane, but this one was stuffed to the brim with nipple balm, two pairs of pink and yellow bamboo pajamas, electrolyte drink packets, nursing bras, witch hazel, fiber and protein filled granola bars, and a big fluffy yellow robe. She had the baskets ready for weeks, waiting for just this moment.
It was hard to believe that just barely less than twenty four hours ago, Ndidi and Alex were having dinner in a swanky new restaurant in Sweden in a meeting with some potential new investors for OneK. The restaurant was dark, only lit by the cluster of tea lights at the center of each table. Around her, there was a steady hum of conversation and gentle clinking of silverware against plates. The party of ten was seated at a round table, each potential investor seated with their spouse. She tried to focus on the discussion (maybe something about introducing a new application onto the platform?) but her heart was eagerly anticipating a text to the phone in her palm under the table.
When Ndidi’s phone buzzed, she startled, her arms thumping against the table and rattling the silverware and drinks on the table. The red wine in her glass sloshed against the side of the glass, but thankfully did not spill out. Heat rushed to her face and she gave a sheepish smile, using her free hand to run her fingers through her hair as she casually looked down at her palm, grimacing as the light from the screen was more obvious than she anticipated in the dark room.
“Go time!!!!” Tyrique texted, including a selfie with Adamma in the hospital bed. There was a sheen of sweat over both of their faces and Ndidi had to admit Adamma did not look particularly comfortable, but the joy both of them radiated through the phone, thousands of miles away.
She bit her cheek to keep from smiling widely. She couldn’t have been happier for someone, but she was still sad to be so far away.
Just a week ago, she was contemplating bailing on the trip with Alex. She knew it would happen any day now and the last thing she wanted to do was be out of the country when it did.
“You have a private jet, you can fly back whenever the baby is here,” Adamma reassured her big sister. Ndidi sighed into her cellphone wedged between her ear and shoulder and half-heartedly pushed around the hangers in her closet, trying to pack for a trip she wasn’t sure she wanted to be on. She knew her sister wouldn’t ask her to cancel the trip but she was maybe hoping she would. “I have Tyrique and an amazing team at the hospital. I’ll be okay without you. Be there for Alex.”
Back at the dinner table, she lifted her gaze from her lap and met Alex’s eyes across the table. He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, almost imperceptibly. As the man in the suit next to her droned on, she tried to contain the excitement on her face and lifted the corner of her mouth barely half an inch.
The baby is coming, she tried to convey through her eyes. There was a part of her that hoped he’d excuse her from the rest of the dinner, but she knew that was silly and moreover, it was pointless—considering whether she left now or in two hours, the baby would most likely arrive long before she even landed back in the States.
He gave a soft smile back, seeming to understand. We’ll be there before you know it, his eyes seemed to whisper back.
Ndidi continued to move through the motions for the rest of dinner. After sending back a very enthusiastic text to Tyrique, she tucked away her phone into her purse and resisted the urge to ask for second by second updates. She laughed at all the right jokes, ooh-ed and ahh-ed at any ideas the investors had. She chimed in with casual praise for all the progress OneK had been making while cutting her salmon into small bites and sipping on the very expensive bottle of wine Alex ordered for the table (the expensive wine she almost spilled!).
And before she knew it, Ndidi and Alex were on the way back to the hotel, where they hurriedly threw their belongings into their suitcases and rushed off to the airport where Alex’s private jet was fueled and ready for takeoff.
But now that she was only mere minutes away from meeting her new baby nephew, she paused in the lobby. She had been in such an excited rush just minutes ago, asking Alex to park the car while she rushed into the hospital but suddenly, she wanted to savor this moment of anticipation—this moment she could think about how much she loved and appreciated her sister.
Ndidi and Adamma didn’t always get along as well as they did now. When they were really young, they fought over trivial things like clothes that were borrowed and never returned or who got to pick what TV show they watched after dinner. When they got a little older, they didn’t fight, per se, but they had such a different view of the world and such different lives, it was hard to see eye to eye.
Ndidi always figured the great divide between the two sisters came from their academic, and eventual career, paths. Adamma went on to get a PhD in clinical psychology and open up a very successful practice. She was the pride and joy of her parents because to them, she was the embodiment of what they had come to America for—opportunity for education and success. Meanwhile, Ndidi faltered a little bit. She didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life and it strained her relationship with her parents. It was only after OneK struck gold and Alex and Ndidi settled into great wealth and Ndidi became more involved with the company that her parents seemed to stop worrying about her.
It wasn’t lost on Ndidi that her parents were proud of Adamma’s own achievements but they were technically proud of Ndidi’s achievements by marriage.
Any time Ndidi tried to talk to Adamma about the strain she felt with her parents, Adamma brushed her off, maybe inadvertently.
“We have good parents, they have only wanted what’s best for us. Think about how much they’ve given up for us to be here,” she would always say. Ndidi was always more emotional while Adamma was more rational and it became exhausting to try to have any conversation where Ndidi wanted emotional support and reassurance while Adamma would try to offer a more head-centered perspective. Eventually, Ndidi retreated and stopped bringing up her parents and any other conflicts she was facing all together. It was easier to keep her sister somewhat at arm’s length because of it.
But then a couple years ago, Adamma had a miscarriage.
Ndidi received a text from Tyrique, yet again, when she was at a business dinner with Alex, “Didi, you have to come home. Adamma needs you. We lost the baby.”
This time, she excused herself from dinner early and left straight for the airport.
On the flight, she traced the smooth gold rings of her wire choker necklace from Loewe. She was still in the silk dress she wore to dinner and in a full face of makeup. She worried she wouldn’t know what to say. Adamma was supposed to be the stronger one—the one who had a solution for an emotional crisis.
Ndidi did grapple with motherhood at one point but ultimately settled on a child-free life and was content with her own choice. She didn’t know what it was like to be child-free despite your greatest wishes. How was she supposed to find the right words to comfort her sister?
When she arrived at their home, Tyrique opened the door and gave Ndidi a gentle hug and a sad smile. “Thank you for being here,” he said. “I’ve never seen her this sad.”
He led Ndidi to the living room where Adamma was wearing a thin cotton robe and surrounded by a pile of soft blankets. The TV was playing an old home video of an old ballet recital. Tyrique patted Ndidi’s shoulder and gestured across the hall to his study, where he would be. Ndidi nodded and leaned against the wall, crossing her arms, following Adamma’s intent gaze on the TV. On screen, the camera focused on a five year old Adamma, donning a pale pink leotard and a tutu in a slightly darker shade of pink. Although the camera quality wasn’t very sharp, it was easy to see the fear and hesitation on her face. She followed the lead of the girl in front of her, but her eyes darted around wildly in the crowd. Suddenly, Ndidi’s young voice called from behind the camera, “Go, Addy, go!”
The camera panned to Ndidi as she flashed a thumbs up towards the stage, and then the camera panned back to Adamma, zooming in on her face lighting up as she finally spotted her family and saw the reassurance from her big sister. Then, the camera zoomed back out and Adamma’s movements became more confident while a smile slowly took over her face. Off camera, Ndidi and her parents cheered. Present Day Ndidi softly cheered from the living room with them and Adamma’s gaze broke from the TV whipped around. Her eyes widened and mouth made a small O shape.
“Talk about a throwback,” Ndidi said, walking over to Adamma and sat down on the sofa next to her. Adamma shook her head and her eyes widened.
“Didi—I didn’t know you were coming,” Adamma’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you yet—I—And what are you wearing?”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Ndidi said, pulling her sister into a hug, “I came as soon as I heard.” Adamma burrowed her face in the space between Ndidi’s shoulder and neck and Ndidi felt hot tears against her skin while she stroked Adamma’s hair with one hand and wrapped the other arm around her securely.
During that week, Ndidi realized that her sister needed someone who was going to help her lean into her emotions. For once, Adamma didn’t need a head-centered approach and Ndidi was the exact person to give her pure emotional support. She held her sister while she cried, but there were moments of joy too. The sisters laughed so hard that their abdominal muscles were sore when they remembered the antics they had gotten into as children and all the ridiculous things their parents have said and done over the years. They watched their old favorite movies—this time, Ndidi let her sister have full control of the remote—and they baked a lot.
One afternoon, as the sisters worked on a puzzle, Ndidi cleared her throat. She was feeling closer than ever to her sister and there was something she needed to clear the air over.
“Addy, there’s something I want to talk to you about,” she started. Adamma looked up, her eyes curious. “I feel like you and I have had very different experiences with our parents and I think it’s because of the paths we’ve taken, and I know they love us and I know it’s just how they are, and I know a lot of how they are is because they are immigrants… But sometimes when I bring up those experiences, I feel a little brushed off by you and I think that’s put some distance between us.”
She paused, looking at Adamma. Adamma frowned a little, but didn’t seem upset or offended. Ndidi cleared her throat and decided to continue.
“I think that your experiences with our parents are really different than mine and… I really have enjoyed spending time with you this week so I wanted to mention this so… I think sometimes I’m just looking for a listening ear from someone who has the same parents as me… I don’t like feeling like I am being unappreciative of them, because that’s just not what it is. But I just…” her voice trailed off.
“Didi, I’m sorry, I had no idea… That was never my intention…” Adamma reached across the table for Ndidi’s hands. “I’m a therapist day in and day out for so many people, but it’s hard to remember to practice what I preach sometimes, I guess. I’m so sorry.”
Ndidi smiled and squeezed her sister’s hand back.
When Ndidi was leaving a few days later, she embraced Adamma tightly and whispered, “I love you so much.” As she waved to her sister from the backseat of her Uber, her heart felt full, like she had just met her sister for the first time.
And then, before they knew it, Adamma was once again expecting. This time, Adamma delivered the news with hesitation, the news not as joyous as her first pregnancy. Both sisters felt an undercurrent of anxiety for a majority of the pregnancy, but Ndidi tried to be her cheerleader, once again.
At the beginning of Adamma’s third trimester, Ndidi decided to treat Adamma to a sister baby-moon. They flew first class to a resort in Bali where Ndidi booked a two bedroom lagoon villa with direct lagoon access, a private pool, a private garden, and a full-service butler for their weeklong trip. They started each morning on the terrace with a breakfast spread that was far more lavish than any two sisters needed, complete with fruit, pastries, pancakes, waffles, yogurt, and freshly-squeezed juice. In the mornings, Ndidi flipped through the newspaper while eating pieces of guava with a fork and Adamma scribbled notes in the margin of a parenting book while sipping on freshly squeezed orange juice. In the afternoons, they lounged in the cabanas by the pool and talked about everything they would do with the baby when he arrived. In the evenings, they enjoyed their nightly ice cream sundaes in the hot tub, drunk off the humidity and the feeling of being seen by someone you love.
Ndidi took a deep breath in as she followed the signs to the elevator, balancing each basket in her arms, the balloons trailing above and behind her as she followed signs to the elevator. Once on the elevator, she used her elbow to press the button for the eighth floor and tugged the balloons into the elevator with her as the doors began to close. The cables whirred as the elevator rose to the eighth floor and arrived with a ding. She looked for a sign to direct her to room 831 and used her elbow again to gently knock on the door when she arrived.
“It’s me,” she said against the wooden door, a giant smile spreading on her face.
Tyrique opened it, this time with an infectious smile. He looked exhausted, but never had she seen him look enthusiastic.
“You made it!” He exclaimed and beamed at her. Then he noticed her full arms. “Oh, Ndidi, you shouldn’t have,” he said, taking one of the baskets into his own arms, and then the other. He set them on a table and Ndidi peaked behind him and saw Adamma, again wearing a thin cotton robe, but this time with a bundle cradled in her arms.
“Oh, Addy,” her voice was thick as she unraveled the ribbons around her wrist and tied it to the bedrail. The gentle thumps of the balloons filled the warm silence as the two sisters grinned at one another. Adamma nodded down to where the baby was latched onto her left breast. Ndidi peered down at his caramel colored skin. His soft black hair was smoothed over his scalp and even though his eyes were closed and his face was partially smooshed against Adamma, Ndidi could already tell he was her twin.
“Jalen,” Adamma whispered, unable to contain the joy in her voice.
“He’s beautiful,” Ndidi whispered back, eyes brimming with tears, “I am so proud of you.”
“Thank you for coming,” Adamma smiled.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Ndidi reached over to Adamma’s arm and squeezed it, “you’re gifting me the title of Aunt!”
But most of all, what a gift it was, to have a sister.
