by Sajni Patel
“You’re leaving her alone all night?”
“No, no. Of course not. Shower, eat, grab stuff, come back. Let Ma sleep in her bed and I’ll sleep on this bench.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yeah.” Jahn stretched.
“Shilpa’s okay with you leaving?”
“She insisted. She’s passed out. Who knew this labor stuff required so much energy?” he joked.
“You’re wrong for saying that, and I hope she bites you during labor.”
He chuckled. “Here’s hoping for tomorrow.”
I slapped his chest with the back of my hand. “Soon-to-be father. God. Can you believe it? A baby. A life that’s totally dependent on you.”
“Yeah, I know. Wish Dad could be here.”
I swallowed, my throat raw and aching. In that moment, I relived the stories Dad used to tell us about when we were born. Men didn’t usually stay in the room when their wives gave birth back then, but he helped Ma just the way Jahn helped Shilpa, always making sure that she was as comfortable as possible. All the pillows, all the blankets, water, and cold washcloths she wanted. “Me, too.”
He gently slapped my cheek and kept his hand there. “But this is a happy time. So be happy with us.”
I nodded, but it was a hard request to fulfill. Dad should’ve been here giving Jahn advice, keeping him collected, laughing at him for being anxious, and able to hold his first grandchild.
“I mean it,” he said. “Take your woman home.”
I smirked. Jahn always knew what to say to lighten the mood.
Liya curled up beneath my jacket in the front seat as I drove her home. “Do you want to grab something to eat?”
“No,” she groaned. “I’m dead tired.”
“Okay. Do you still have my phone?”
“Oh, yeah.” She plucked it out of her purse and handed it to me when I pulled up to her place. We glanced at the lit screen at the same time. Kaajal had sent me three text messages.
She released the phone into my hand and commented, “I forgot to mention that she’d texted earlier when I was looking for texts from Shilpa and Jahn.”
“It’s nothing. I don’t text her or call. I don’t know how she got my number, but I programmed her in so that I know when it’s her.”
“It’s fine. You don’t have to explain. It’s not as if we’re exclusive or anything.”
I took her wrist and gently pulled her back inside the car. “What you do mean we’re not exclusive? Are you seeing other men?”
“No,” she replied, her voice calm, sleepy. “I meant that if you change your mind about us, I understand.”
I cupped her cheek and kissed her, deep, passionate. Fire sparked around us, and she woke up instantly. Pulling away, I said, “Don’t think for a second that there’s even a chance of me walking away from this. You understand me?”
She nodded, her eyes dazed, her lips swollen.
“Should I walk you upstairs? You look as if you’re about to pass out.”
“No,” she breathed. “Unless you want to come inside.”
“And sleep?” My gut clenched.
“Yeah…”
“On the couch?” I swallowed. No. I wanted to sleep in her bed, with my arms around her, some sort of comfort and peace before my emotions blew up. The time around the anniversary of Dad’s death was the hardest out of the year. Jahn had dealt with it. Ma had dealt with it. But I couldn’t let it go.
Every year, I immersed myself in something—school, work, exercise—but tonight I had nothing except a bottle of one-hundred-and-forty proof to drown myself in.
“Jay?” she asked.
Having someone see the wretchedness of my weakness was not something that I could share yet, even with a woman whom I tried to get to open up to me. Hypocritical? Yeah.
I replied, “I need to get some rest and be on my game tomorrow. I just found out that Reinli BioChem is closing for certain. I don’t know if they told you. They were supposed to talk to management today. Don’t worry. I’m confident you’ll be able to find better work.”
“Yeah, they told me. I don’t want to think about it right now.” She covered her yawn.
“My firm couldn’t save the company.”
She kissed me. “Not your fault.”
“Sure feels like it. I have a lot of paperwork to handle tomorrow. I should get home and prepare.”
“Understandable. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.” She smiled and crawled out. She texted me when she locked her front door, then I left.
Silence. Even though we hadn’t spoken most of the ride back, Liya offered a distraction, a tranquility. Without her, that serenity rippled and disbanded. The car provided sound; the engine, the radio, and other cars on the dark roads. At home? Memories pried through.
Terrifying flames rose around me, high, bright, scorching. There wasn’t an escape route for two scrawny boys. But there was Dad. There had always been Dad. He was a superhero, swooping in at the last minute to save us; courageous, confident, selfless. He picked us up, one boy in each arm, and rushed this way and that. He stumbled, falling debris almost hit us, but he was able to get us out.
Dad’s leg fell through a floorboard, and he lunged forward, throwing us out. “Go!” he ordered.
I’d whimpered and pleaded, but he growled, “Jahn! Get your brother out!”
Jahn tugged on me, scratching my arm to get me to run. But I didn’t. I lurched back toward Dad. He couldn’t pull his leg out and shove me away at the same time. With one final push against me—the stubborn, stupid son who distracted him—we stumbled backward while he tumbled in.
What if I’d just run like he told us to? He would’ve been able to concentrate on getting his leg free, crawl out with two arms instead of using his hands to shove me away.
What if I’d not been playing with the stove trying to make dinner? None of what happened afterward would’ve mattered, none of the what-ifs, because there wouldn’t have been a fire to begin with.
Jahn ended up with scratches and bruises and a few burn marks on his hands.
I ended up with a marred back and a lifetime of guilt.
Dad ended up dead.
Ma ended up a widow left raising two kids.
I ruined my family.
But things turned out okay, Jahn always said.
I glared at the bottle of bourbon in the cabinet. Grabbing it, I ran my hand down the glass. Straight out of the bottle, right?
My phone pinged.
Jahn: Get some sleep. Don’t do anything stupid. I need my child to have a levelheaded kaka tomorrow.
Liya: Thanks for tonight. Let me know if you go to the hospital tomorrow and maybe I can come? GN
Then Jahn sent me a baby and heart emoji, and Liya sent a kiss emoji.
Damn emojis.
I slammed the bottle down and went to the bathroom. I rinsed my face with ice-cold water and downed a couple of nighttime ibuprofen. I’d rather struggle with getting up after six hours of medicine-induced sleep than struggle with a self-loathing hangover.
After stripping off my suit and hanging it over a chair, I crawled beneath the covers in my boxers, set my alarm, and played a soothing R&B playlist that always took me back to happier places.
Because I had picked up Liya from her office yesterday and took her straight home, her car was still at work. I offered to give her a ride the following morning, and the instant I saw her, I definitely woke up. She jogged down the steps in high heels; how anyone could do that and not fall flat on their face was beyond me. She deserved a medal for that talent.
The morning light shone on her sleek, black hair, always a different mixture of curls and waves when she wore it natural.
Her white blouse glowed in the light, making her skin radiant, a goddess descending the stairs. A dark gray skirt wrapped around her thighs and ended in a dark purple hem, matching her shoes. A giant white purse bounced against her side as she expertly checked her phone while walking.
&n
bsp; She hopped into the car, fully rested and alert, her energy a viable entity that breathed life into me. Her rosy perfume hit my senses, and in the span of half a minute, the entire world changed. For the better.
Liya grinned, her plump lips painted pinkish purple. She’d probably get upset if I kissed her and messed up her perfectly placed makeup.
I shrugged. Riling her up was the fun part. I weaved my hand through her hair, and she almost batted me away, complaining, “You’re going to mess up my hair!”
I planted a soft kiss on her lips and she quieted. I smacked my lips. “I always wondered how pink lipstick would look on me. What do you think?”
I puckered my lips, and she laughed, swiping a finger across my lips to take off the color.
“You look more like a burgundy man,” she teased.
I chuckled and we headed on our way. “Not upset about the company closing?”
She shrugged. “Like you said, I’ll have something lined up. Worrying doesn’t do anything. Besides, I have something more important to focus on right now. Shilpa asked me to be her delivery photographer.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised.
“Yeah. I didn’t think we were that close yet. I’m going to go right after work, unless she delivers earlier. Apparently Jahn bought this fancy new camera and she’s not sure that he knows how to use it.”
I laughed. “Sounds like him. Good. No one will ask me to take any pictures. I don’t plan on being in the room when she delivers.”
Liya cringed. “Oh, right. I’d have to be there for that part. Wonder if she thought of that.”
“I’m sure that’s what she meant.”
“Never seen a delivery.”
“Me, either.”
“It’s kind of gross and horrifying, I hear.”
“Better you having to watch than me!”
“But that means I’ll get to see your nephew before you do!” she teased and stuck out her tongue.
We pulled up to the front lobby. “I hope you have a good day, Liya.”
She frowned. “We sound like a couple.”
“We sort of are a couple.”
She nodded in agreement with a genuine smile. “Thanks for the ride. Meet you at the hospital?”
“Yep.”
The first half of the day slogged on in a groggy daze full of paperwork over final lawsuit and closure details. I had to concentrate on meetings and getting myself together. Part of me, thanks to the medicine, was numb. Part of me fought against the myriad of sorrows from the approaching anniversary of Dad’s death. Part of me remembered that my brother was about to have a freaking baby. Once that joyous realization took center stage in my thoughts, I was antsy to get the day over with.
Jahn texted once in a while with updates. Shilpa was doing very well. Ma was impressed, and Shilpa wasn’t screaming her head off…yet. Baby looked good on the monitors.
As soon as work ended, I went straight to the hospital, anxious to meet my nephew.
I walked through the labor and delivery hallway, busier than it had been last night. It was filled with doctors in white coats, handfuls of nurses in matching blue scrubs, and occasional family members.
I walked into Shilpa’s room. “Hi, I brought pizza!”
“Oh, no, you did not…” Liya chided and jumped up from the bench, ushering me back out.
“What did I do?” I asked.
“You and Jahn and your mom can eat that in the waiting area. Don’t bring food into Shilpa’s room! She can’t eat! Do you know how miserable that’ll make her? Smelling this delicious food while you chow down in front of her?”
“Oh, crap. I didn’t think about that.”
“Mm-hmm…” She looked me over like I’d lost my mind, went into the room, and out came Jahn and Ma.
We ate quickly in the lobby and returned to the room, but only when Liya ascertained that we didn’t smell like mouthwatering food.
“How are you?” I asked Shilpa.
She gave a weak smile as she lay in bed. “Tired.”
“Did you get any sleep?”
“Some last night, but all day someone’s checking me, or the contractions get worse. I’m exhausted.”
“Can the nurse give you anything to sleep?”
“Not at this point. I’m so close. I’m fully dilated, and the baby just came down all of a sudden.”
“In a few hours, then?”
“Hopefully not that long! If I’m this tired now, I don’t know if I’ll be able to push!”
“You can do it. You’re strong,” Jahn encouraged as he replaced the cold, damp washcloth on her forehead. I walked toward Liya as Jahn cooed over Shilpa.
“What are you doing?” I asked Liya.
She turned from the room, her back to me, and fidgeted with the camera. “Why is this thing so complicated?”
I chuckled. “You don’t know how to use it, either?”
“I’m not a photographer. I use my phone camera. Why does a camera need so many pieces? And why are there so many buttons?”
“Let me help you,” I offered.
“Like you know?”
“I messed around with Rohan’s camera; it’s not as complicated as this one, but it’s close, same brand, older model.”
I wrapped my arms around her, and she stilled as I worked with the camera in her small hands. Her hair, thick and tickling my throat, smelled like shampoo from her morning shower. Her blouse was untucked but unruffled, and she wore the same high heels from work so her head landed closer to my shoulder than my chest.
“Your mom’s here,” she muttered.
“I’m aware.”
“She isn’t going to snatch you by the hair and ask what you’re doing?”
I chuckled against her. “No. And I thought you didn’t care what other people think.”
“I don’t, but I’m not heartless. I don’t want to look like we’re rubbing something lewd in her face.”
I kissed her head. “There.”
“What there?”
“Zoom in and out, capture, focus, video.”
I released Liya, and we sat down.
“So…do you want raw footage or adorable moments?” Liya asked.
“Both,” Shilpa replied.
“Uncensored stuff or social-media-ready material?”
“Both. I want to see the baby come out. But no video.”
We both cringed, and I patted Liya on the back. “She’s your girl.”
She shot me a dry look but asked Shilpa, “Are you sure you want me to see all your business?”
“At this point, I don’t care if my lady parts are televised, but I do want to see him come out. I can always delete the pictures later,” Shilpa replied.
“You don’t want Jahn or his mom to do it?” Liya verified.
“I need Jahn to hold one of my legs and my hand. Ma doesn’t want to look, but she can help support my neck during pushing.”
“Isn’t your family coming?”
Shilpa readjusted herself a bit in bed. “They have tickets to fly in this weekend. The baby is a few days early. Are you okay doing this for me?”
Liya nodded. “Yes, whatever you need me to do.”
“Great,” Shilpa hissed as she curled forward and clamped her teeth around a silent scream. “Because I think it’s time.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Liya
Having a baby was no less disgusting than I’d imagined. But Shilpa didn’t scream until Preeti said, “This is called the Ring of Fire. It’s going to feel like your vagina is on fire, but it’s the baby’s head. He’s past the pelvis, so it won’t be much longer.”
During the next contraction, Shilpa pushed three times, each a count of ten seconds. Her lady parts widened and stayed that way as a head rocked back and forth with each heartbeat. It was the weirdest thing I’d ever seen. Preeti massaged the baby’s head. I stood corrected. That was the weirdest thing I’d ever seen.
“He has so much hair!” I said.
; Jahn, half excited and half about to pass out, grinned proudly.
In the next contraction, the head came all the way out and Jahn choked out a laugh as his son slid out in a mess of fluids. Preeti placed the baby on a blanket on top of Shilpa’s stomach as the nurse vigorously dried him and suctioned the gunk out of his nose and mouth.
Shilpa cried. Jahn cried. Jahn’s mom cried. The baby cried. I freaking cried.
Preeti clamped the cord and handed Jahn scissors. I caught every moment. And when the nurse took the baby to the warmer, I photographed the measurements, weight, and Jahn timidly giving his son his first bath and fumbling with the tiny diaper and onesie.
They wrapped the baby up and handed him to Shilpa, who fed him after Preeti repaired her destroyed lady parts. The baby smacked his adorable little mouth, looking for a boob.
After the nurse and tech cleaned the birthing mess, quicker than a few blinks, and Shilpa had nursed and bonded, she let Jahn hold the baby for a minute, then his mom, before Shilpa asked me, “Do you want to hold him?”
She held up the bundle like an offering. I shook my head, blinking back tears. “Not before Jay.”
“Okay, did anyone tell him?”
“I texted. He’s coming,” Jahn responded as Jay hurried in, a giant, cheesy grin on his face.
“Where’s my nephew?” Jay beamed.
Shilpa proudly handed the baby to him. Jay immediately melted. This child had everyone wrapped around his fingers. Jay swayed side to side and cooed to the baby. There was something very, very sexy about this six-foot-four man in his dress clothes, button-down shirt with a few top buttons undone, sleeves rolled to his forearms, biceps bulging against the tightened fabric, holding this tiny, helpless baby.
And damn everything if my ovaries weren’t actually rumbling. Although not quite exploding yet.
I captured him on film, as I had with everyone else, but now that he’d returned, I felt that I should’ve left the family to enjoy themselves.
I placed the camera down and reached for my purse as Jay walked over and asked, “Did you hold him yet?”