Finally, Forever (19 page)

I stop
rambling and look over at Gray. He’s smiling. “Exactly,” he says.

“I’m your camera,” I say, stunned.
It’s the greatest compliment he could ever give me.

Gray

Dylan’s cell phone suddenly rings and she takes it out of her pocket and checks the caller I.D. on the screen. She gasps.

“It’s Serena,” she says and nerves shoot through my stomach as she accept
s the call.

“Hello?”
Dylan asks and her eyes instantly widen. I can faintly hear screams coming through the speaker. “Okay, okay, just try to stay calm. Where are you?”

I stare at
Dylan and her eyes are absorbed as she listens.

“How much time is there between your contractions?” She nods. “About twenty minutes? And they’re light? Okay, you’ll be fine. You have plenty of time. You’re only an hour from the hospital. Early labor can last all day,”
Dylan tells her. She rolls her eyes. “No, I haven’t had a baby out of wedlock, I just did some research to try and help you.”

Dylan
’s face breaks into a beaming smile.

“You want me there? In Los Angles?” she says. She looks at me and I nod.

“We’re on our way.” Dylan turns off her phone. “She wants me there!” she shouts.

We both jump to our feet and
Dylan turns to the Grand Canyon. “There’s going to be a baby!” she screams out. Her voice echoes against the rocks.

Tourists around us clap and offer their congratulations.
I grab Dylan’s hand and pull her down the trail.

“Sorry,” Dylan says
. “But you should always shout good news.”

We turn and race down the trail for the parking lot and dive into my car. I have the
car running before Dylan even shuts her door. My hands are shaking as I shift into reverse. Why am I nervous?  

“You ready?” I ask.

Dylan nods and her eyes are focused out the window with determination. She sticks her arm out the open window and slaps the side of my car like it’s a horse. “It’s game time,” she says.

We wind through the park roads and the twenty miles per hour
speed limit makes it feel like a slow crawl.

Her cell phone rings again and she looks
down at the screen.

“Serena?” I ask and she
smiles and shakes her head.

“It’s Nick
. I know exactly what he wants. I’m putting him on speaker.” Dylan accepts the call and holds the phone between us.

“Yes, Nick,”
Dylan says. “We had sex.”

Nick screams so loud in response I’m afraid
the phone is going to explode. Dylan muffles the speaker with her hand and we can still hear him cheering. Okay, I’m starting to like Nick.

“We’ve had so much sex every muscle in my pelvis is sore,”
Dylan says. Nick hoots in reply.

“That’s because you’ve
been straddling a stallion. Oh, honey, I am so happy for you,” Nick’s voice beams.

I shake my
head, but I’m smiling.

“I love you Nick,”
Dylan says.

“I love you both,” Nick sings. “Give
Gray a BJ for me,” he says before hanging up.

Dylan
hangs up and laughs. We leave the edge of the canyon behind and head for the water that receded millions of years ago, emptying into the Pacific Ocean and next to the city where anything is possible:  Los Angeles.

PART THREE: FINAL DESTINATION

Gray

Dylan
’s sister is at a hospital in Santa Monica, an ocean side town that edges the Los Angles metropolis. We park on the side of the street and I get out of the car and notice across from the hospital is a spa, fitness gym and sushi restaurant. I feel like I’m standing next to a cliché.

I look up at the looming entrance and
hesitate outside the doors. I hate hospitals. I’m about to offer to wait in the lobby so I can secretly escape outside and avoid the entire scenario, but Dylan is already pulling me through the automatic doors to the registration desk. She gives the receptionist her name and she checks her computer screen and nods.

“Serena listed both of you as visitors,” she says. “You can go up to delivery.”

“Great!” Dylan beams.

Um, what?

I point to myself. “Me?” I ask and my voice cracks like I’m straining to speak.

The nurse nods. She hands each of us orange wrist tags to put on, for security reasons.
Dylan peels the backing off one, grabs my left arm, and sticks it around my wrist. She leaves plenty of room, but it feels too tight.

The nurse
points to the elevator next to the check-in desk.

“Fourth floor,” she says.

I look up at the ceiling and horrific images of projectile streams of blood and screaming women fill my mind.

“I don’t think—”

“My sister must want you there, if she added your name,” Dylan interrupts me and takes my hand. 

“But—”

“Come on,” she says and yanks me inside the elevator.

“Dude, I hardly know your sister,” I say
as the metal doors slide closed.

“Dude?”
Dylan asks. “Is that LA surfer talk?”

“That’s me being very uncomfortable talk.
Dude, I don’t ever want to see your sister’s vagina.”

Dylan
laughs. “You don’t have to be in the room with us. You can wait outside the door.” She presses four and it lights up. Anxiety escalates inside me as we climb each floor. It’s as if we’ve suddenly gone up four thousand feet in elevation. I’m light headed and dizzy. 

The elevator opens and we walk into yet another lobby and stop at another registration desk. A nurse in blue scrubs is sitting behind the counter.

“Dylan and Gray?” she assumes. “Go on in.” She points down the hall. “Delivery Room Four.”

We walk down the hallway and when we turn the corner, Mike is there, pacing outside the door. He’s clutching an icepack to his shoulder.

“She kicked me out!” Mike says helplessly when he sees us. “And she bit me,” he adds. He takes the ice pack away to reveal a purple and yellow bruise complete with defined teeth marks. It’s impressive. Serena has some nice incisors. “She’s calling our baby Satan’s Spawn. She’s lost it, Dylan. How long has your sister been chemically unbalanced? Is it a family gene?”

I look at
Dylan and consider the possibility.

“She’s in pain Mike, and she didn’t learn any
of the coping strategies they teach in this amazing place called a
birthing class,
” Dylan tells him.

“Oh. I missed that class. Wait.” He pulls out his cell phone. “Thank God for YouTube.”

Dylan sighs and grabs my hand but I hold back.

“Shouldn’t we put on
some scrubs? Or wash our hands? What about those rubber gloves?” I ask.

“This isn’t surgery,”
Dylan says. I reluctantly follow behind her. I see DELIVERY ROOM 4 in white stenciled letters on the door and I hear organ music pounding in my head, low and sinister. I’m expecting to see Serena on the bed with her feet buckled into harnesses. Somebody will be grabbing onto her ankles and a sweaty nurse will be screaming for her to push. A doctor will be yelling, “The baby hasn’t turned! I’ll have to go in! More hot water, boil water, you fools!” because that constitutes my movie knowledge of childbirths. 

When we walk in I’m relieved to see the television is set to a baseball game, and Serena is leaning over a huge medicine ball. Everything is calm until Serena screams like somebody’s stabbing a knife in her stomach. I lean back against the door and it closes and I’m trapped.
Dylan is on the floor with Serena, trying to grab her hands. A nurse is bending over her.

“That was a good one!” t
he nurse exclaims and Serena sits up and gasps for air. The nurse applauds her like physical agony is a wonderful accomplishment. What a horrible person.

“I’m so glad I’m having a boy so he will never have to experience this,” Serena moans. “The joy of childbirth my
fat ass.”

Mike peeks his head in the door and I back away and let him in. Serena whips her head around and glares at him.

“This is your entire fault,” she yells at him and she rolls to her feet. I swear sparks are flying out of her eyes. “You did this to me!”

He walks up to her and tries to grab her hands. He looks beaten down, like he’s been fighting in a boxing ring for the past six hours.

“I want drugs,” Serena cries into his shoulder.

“Okay,”
Dylan says, her voice soothing, “let’s get you some drugs.”

“No,” Serena wails. “It’s bad for the baby.”

“Drugs are fine,” Dylan says.

Mike nods enthusiastically. “This is LA, they’ve got to have the best drugs around,” he says. We all look at him and he shrugs. “I’m just trying to be supportive,” he defends himself.

Dylan walks up to him and I watch her with amazement. I have never seen Dylan look more serious, more focused, more domineering. It’s a very sexy look for her. 

“If you want to be supportive,”
Dylan says to him, “then you need to be her coach right now. Walk her through this. Encourage her. When she’s having a contraction don’t try to make jokes. Just look in her eyes and tell her she’s doing a great job.”

Mike nods and curls his fingers around Serena’s shoulder.  “Come on, slugger,” he says. “Dig deep and show me what you’ve got.”

I start chuckling and catch myself and cough in my hand. Serena shoves Mike away with her elbow and he falls back onto the couch. He glances at the TV.

“Hey, when did the Cubs score two runs?” he asks.

“That’s it, both of you, OUT!” Serena shouts. Mike sprints for the door and I shoot Dylan a sympathetic look before I follow behind him.

Dylan

Serena works through another contraction. Her entire body tenses up and her back curls inward in pain as she takes tiny wisps of breaths. She squeezes my fingers so tightly my joints push together but I don’t let go and I don’t take my eyes off of hers, which are staring into mine, begging for me to make the pain stop.