Finally, Forever (20 page)

After a few seconds she lets out a moan and falls back
against the pillows. I brush away sweaty hair from her face and wipe a cool washcloth over her forehead.

A nurse comes in and checks her over. She pulls a blanket over Serena’s legs and pats her hand.

“You’re doing great. The first baby always takes the longest,” the nurse says.

“How far along is she?” I ask.

“My contractions are three minutes apart,” Serena cries.

“It might take a while,” the nurse says. “She’s still in early labor.”

Serena whimpers at this news.

The nurse checks the monitor and hands my sister a
nother cold washcloth to put on her forehead.  She gives me a fresh thermos full of ice water. She tells Serena she’ll be back in a half hour to check on her.

“
Dylan, remember to use condoms,” Serena says as the nurse closes the door. I laugh a little. 

“You weren’t using condoms?” I ask her. 

“Not all the time.”

I frown. “Mike should have known better.”

She shakes her head. “It was me,” she said. “Seriously, it was me. I was the stupid one.”

I guess now isn’t the time to lecture her
about birth control.

“When I found out I was pregnant, I almost got an abortion,” she says. “But I wasn’t old eno
ugh, and I didn’t want to tell Mom.”

I wipe her wet forehead with the washcloth. “Oh, honey,” I say.

“Then I knew I couldn’t go through with it. I love Mike too much.”

“I think you made the right decision,” I say. “You’re going to love this baby. So many people will love him. I already love him so much.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Dylan. I don’t know how to be a mom.” Her dark eyes stare helplessly into mine.

“Nobody does,” I tell her. “You’ll figure it out. You have Mike, you have family. Just let us help you, Serena. Don’t think you
have to go through this on your own. We want to be here.”

She nods. Another contraction hits and I hold her hand and tell her how amazing she is and how strong she is and what a great job she’s doing. She holds onto my arm.

“Dylan will you stay in LA with me? I know Mom offered, but she can be so smothering. I want you here. I need your help.”

I look down at my sister and nod.

“Of course I will,” I say. “I’ll move here. I’ll stay as long as you need me.” I lean down and kiss her damp forehead. I look out the window at the ocean, at my new home, Los Angeles. It feels right. It feels perfect. I feel my anchor drop.

For the first time in my life, I realize that home isn’t where you want to be. It’s where you need to be.

Gray

I sit outside the delivery room with Mike. He is actually watching a birthing video on his phone. Poor bastard. I get cramming for a test at the last minute, we’ve all been there, but this guy takes procrastination to a new level.

There are two other delivery rooms in the corner of the hospital wing and nurses in blue scrubs speed w
alk back and forth between them. Every once in a while a pregnant woman in a white robe waddles out, supported by a tired, helpless, freaked out looking guy. One woman pushes an IV along with her. They all walk for a minute or two and then freeze, crouch over and scream as if they’re being squeezed to death by a boa constrictor.

I cover my face in my hands. Why don’t middle schools send kids to labor and delivery rooms as a class field trip? It would scare all of them into celibacy for
twenty years. Why am I even here? Where are Serena’s parents? Dylan called them from the road and they were trying to book a flight.

I
look at Mike. “Have you talked to Serena’s mom?” I ask.

Mike shakes his head. “Serena hasn’t spoken to her mom in weeks.”

“That doesn’t mean
you
can’t call her,” I point out. “She should know how her daughter’s doing.” He sets down his phone and looks at me.

“And incur the wrath of Serena? No way. I would love to call them, but Serena made me swear I wouldn’t talk to her parents. Y
ou’ve seen how she acts.”

I nod. “She’s a little feisty,” I venture.

“Feisty? She’s A-list nuts. She used to be so mellow. And happy. Before she was pregnant she was actually a nice person. I don’t even think she swore.”

“Why did you stay with her?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Her boobs grew four sizes,” he says and I almost laugh.

“I’m kidding,” he says. “Well, I’m not, but that’s not why I stayed with her. I fell in love with her the second I saw her,” he says. “It just happened. You never plan these things—and they seem to happen at the worst possible
moment. Life has an amazing sense of humor.”

“What happened?” I ask. “You guys just ran away together?”

“No,” Mike says. “We met at one of my shows. I was in town for a few weeks visiting family in Wisconsin and that’s when we started hanging out all the time. Then I had to be on the road again doing gigs and I took a comedy workshop in New York, so we couldn’t see each other this summer. She started acting weird whenever we talked on the phone. I drove out and surprised her last month and found out she wasn’t twenty-one, like she had said she was. She was seventeen and knocked up.”

“Ouch,” I say.

“Yeah. I can’t even joke about that one. Statutory rape jokes get you booed off the stage pretty quick.” He sighs. “But, the more I think about it, this messed up journey we’ve been on, the more it all makes sense. If Serena wasn’t pregnant we probably wouldn’t be together. And the unbelievable thing about it is, for the first time in my life, I have a plan. I’m twenty-seven years old and I’m finally figuring things out. First your life blows up in your face and then it settles in all the right places.”

I nod. I can testify to that.

“So, what’s up with you and Dylan?” Mike asks. “Are you two together?”

“No,” I say and look out at the lobby. “We tried. Life
got in the way.”

Mike nods. “Serena talks about her a lot.
She’s crazy about Dylan. She says Dylan is one of those people that, when life hands her lemons, she makes extremely sweet lemonade.”

I smirk. “That’s not right,” I say. “When life hands
Dylan lemons, she learns how juggle,” I say. “She has her own way of doing everything.”

“Wow,” Mike says. “I get what you’re saying.”

I nod. “There’s no one like her,” I say.

“Dude,” he says. “We are being such chicks right now, dishing out our feelings,” he says. “It must be all of these
opened vaginas everywhere,” he says. “Speaking of vaginas,” he looks back at his phone and opens a new video on YouTube. I’m careful to avoid looking at the screen.

“Oh, God,” Mike says and watches the phone with horror in his eyes. “Her…she just…it ripped. Argh.” He covers his hand over his mouth and sprints for the bathroom. I watch him go and
hope he makes it to the toilet.

A second later,
Dylan runs out of the delivery room. Sweat is glistening on her forehead. She looks around the waiting area.

“Where’s Mike?” she asks.

“In the bathroom throwing up,” I say simply. “Apparently home birthing videos are pretty graphic. How’s Serena?”

“She’s dilated eight centimeters.”

I don’t know what she’s talking about but I just nod because I don’t want her to explain the gory details.

“We need Mike,”
Dylan says. “It’s almost time to push.”

“It’s almost over?” I ask. I hope.

Dylan shrugs. “Serena’s body doesn’t want to cooperate. She’s exhausted. And Luke is taking his time.” Dylan rubs her hands over her eyes.

Mike staggers back to the chairs, his face pale. He wipes his mouth with the side of his hand.

“Has the beast summoned me?” he asks.

Dylan
nods and waves him in.

“You should take a break,
Dylan,” I say. “Let Mike take over for a while.”

She shakes her head. “I promised her I wouldn’t leave,” she says.

“Can I do anything?” I ask. “Other than video tape her birth. I’m not going back in that room.” Dylan smiles and shakes her head.

“Will you just hang out?” she asks. “I like knowing you’re
out here,” she says.

“Sure,” I say. “I won’t leave until everyone’s fine,” I promise.
Dylan nods and she follows Mike through the door.

I wait and watch the clock. Time lengthens and stretches. An hour goes buy. Then two. I stare out the window across the room and
I can see the ocean in the distance. Thoughts come forward and recede again in my mind like the waves and I am tossed along. I need Serena to be okay. She has to be okay. I start to feel acid in my stomach.

Dylan
suddenly touches my arm and knocks me out of my trance. Her face is worried and my stomach buckles.

“She’s not okay,”
Dylan says. “She had an epidural, but the baby can’t get out of the birth canal. They’re taking her in for a c-section,” Dylan says.

“Will
that work?” I ask. “Will she be okay?” I ask.

“I think so,” she sighs. “She can’t push anymore and they’re worried about the baby. His heart rate is fluctuating too much
. This is hard on him, too,” Dylan says. She slumps down next to me.

A few minutes later, they wheel Serena down the hall toward surgery. Mike’s face is as pale as porcelain. Even his lips look white. Serena’s eyes are closed and her wet hair is matted to the white sheets
like spilled black ink. I look away and close my eyes. It’s too familiar. The past is coming back in waves and I try to shut it out. Memories threaten to resurface.

I count the seconds on the clock. I bite my knuckles.
Dylan is on the phone with her mom, whose flight is delayed and she’s stranded. Nothing is working out. They won’t get here in time for Serena’s surgery. They’re too late. It’s too familiar.

A half an hour later Mike comes running down the hall. He’s practically skipping.
The look on his face makes relief pour over me.

“We have a boy!” he says.
Dylan jumps up and screams and I take a full, solid breath and run my hands over my hair.

“He’s perfect. Exactly eight pounds,” he says.

“And Serena?” Dylan asks.

“She’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her. And I’ve seen her laugh so hard she snorts.”

I stand up and Dylan jumps into my arms, hugging me so hard it almost knocks me over.

“When can I see them?”
Dylan asks.

“They’re washing him up,” Mike says. “Serena’s still in surgery. She’ll be out soon.”

Dylan follows Mike down the hall and they disappear behind two white folding doors. I’m so relieved I could fall over. I look around the hospital wing and don’t know what to do with myself. I don’t know if I’m hungry or exhausted or thirsty or all of the above. I just know I need to move.

I take the elevator down to the first floor and it’s full of people coming in and out and wheelchairs and commotion. I spot the gift shop across the room. 

Birth. Celebration. Gifts. Perfect.

I walk inside and this old lady with glasses halfway down her nose greets me with a smile. 

I look around and try to grasp what to buy a runaway, teenage, unwed mother. I grab a handful of balloons that say congratulations. I grab some flowers—that seems fitting. There’s a bakery section, with rolls and donuts and muffins and I grab a six pack of assorted muffins because this also seems appropriate. The donuts look mouth watering, so I grab a half-dozen of those, too. Then I pass some photo frames and there’s a square one that’s blue around the edges and in yellow loopy writing it says, “It’s a boy!”

I grab that too,
and pay for everything at the checkout. Five minutes later I walk down the hallway trying to balance all of my purchases. I feel strange and somewhat used and it dawns on me. My mom and sister used to talk about it and I always shrugged it off, but now I can officially say it. 

I have just stress shopped. 

***

When I get back upstairs the nurse informs me they’ve moved Serena to the recovery wing. I walk
down white corridors through doors that buzz open like I’m on the Starship Enterprise. I’m wondering if I’ll reach a transporter pad and get beamed to Serena’s room.