The Serpentine Butterfly

by Addison Moore

  “Breathe soft with me, slowly, in and out.” None of that panicked shit.

  I hear that last part, but I don’t think it was meant for me.

  Mom points to Tad, and he lets another one rip. She gives a soft giggle, momentarily pausing from the foot strangulation she’s pursuing. “Oh, I laughed each time he did that.” She reminisces with the flick of her wrist. “I would get down on my hands and knees, and he’d get right in front of me. And, at first, I thought a dog was barking, but when my nose told me different, I laughed. Oh, how I laughed. It took the edge off right away.”

  I give Logan’s hand a bone-crunching squeeze. I will never forgive you if you don’t toss them both out on their insane ears right this minute.

  “But then, I got called to work.” Tad folds his arms across his chest proudly. “When duty calls, Tad Landon answers. Althorpe relies on me to get things done.”

  Mom lifts a finger to his point while Logan continues to help me breathe my way down this mountain of treachery.

  “Good thing Demetri was willing to step in,” she continues. “He lit candles and warmed the tub with a kettle. It was all so very cozy.” She sniffs at the surroundings. “Not sterile and cold—the smell of antiseptic clinging to your clothes. The first breath this child takes will not be the freshest.”

  No thanks to Tad.

  And really? Antiseptic? She has a bag of gas exploding in her face, and the scent of rubbing alcohol is what sets her off? I would rather drink a gallon of rubbing alcohol than have Tad exploding anything from his rear orifice—in my face no less.

  “You did it.” Logan presses a kiss to my forehead before turning around. “I’m going to have to ask all of you to step outside for a few minutes. She just needs some quiet time. Lizbeth? Would you mind seeing if the cafeteria has a decent cup of coffee?” He drops a twenty onto her lap. “Maybe you and Tad can grab a bite first, get your energy up.”

  Her mouth opens to protest, but Tad shuttles her toward the door, giddy at the prospect of a free meal. “This hospital is rated in the top one hundred in quality care—that includes the kitchen staff, Lizbeth! I think we’re in for a culinary treat.”

  “Labor is going to take hours—days maybe,” I assure my mother.

  “I’ll be right back!” she wails as they head out.

  “Dear God, bolt the door.” I check the floor to see if this has turned into a sanitation issue—what with my mother barking at Tad to shit his pants on command.

  “Logan,” I moan, pulling him in close until his head is over mine. “Help me. Make sure I get the strongest damn drugs on the planet—or just knock me out. In fact, do it now before I have another contraction. No one will have to know. I swear, I won’t say a word, and I’ll never press charges. Belt me right now”—I point to my chin—“put me out of my misery.”

  He gives a soft chuckle. “Skyla, I would never hurt you.”

  “You’re hurting me by letting me remain conscious!”

  Tears come to his eyes. The room stills around us for a moment. It’s just Logan and I—and my body’s diabolical need to punish itself for failed anal sex with Gage.

  His eyes round out the size of eggs.

  “Oh, sorry.” I give his hand a tug. “It’s true. This is all Ellis’s doing. It was a condom issue. He and Giselle should be here to experience every last drop of the bloody baby fun.” Before he can respond, my body starts in on that excruciating pinch once again, and a viral panic goes off in me.

  “Remember that time you switched bodies with Ezrina?” Logan combs the hair out of my eyes, and I give a furtive nod because I like where he’s going. “Maybe this would be a good time to look into that. Only I think you should switch bodies with Dudley.”

  “Ha! My mother will never agree to that. It’s hopeless, isn’t it? I have to do this.” The machine chirps, and the needle starts its inevitable climb. “I would give every pint of blood in my body to the Counts to make this stop. Oh, I know!” I sit up as far as I can. “Text Wesley! He’ll think of something. You and I both know my mother is relishing the fact she gets to shoot down Marshall. It’s me who she’s really punishing. She hates me. She’s making this ten times worse than it needs to be.” My finger fumbles with the buttons on the bedrail, and I spastically hit the diagram of a nurse’s hat. “And where the hell is that nurse?”

  The contraction sinks me in its icy pit of agony, and I keep my eyes glued to Logan as our lips pant for our lives in tandem. Logan Oliver is my savior. If anything, this bodily torture, this abject misery, has bonded our souls onto one another in ways that sex and marriage and perhaps even love simply couldn’t. There is no way that I could even have considered not jumping from the window—which incidentally I noted is hermetically sealed with chicken wire. I’m sure they’ve had a woman or two “put a crack in it—to get some fresh air.” This is hell on Earth—a living sacrifice to bring forth life into this world. Chloe comes to mind, alone in the woods, save for her worst enemy whom she wouldn’t have wished this on. And for a tiny moment, the briefest of them all, my heart weeps for her. There wasn’t a nurse or the promise of an anesthesiologist in those woods. There wasn’t a warm and burgeoning crowd of family ready to offer their love and support—and bodily functions. Chloe literally has no one. And then, just like that, the contraction subsides, and I’m right back to seriously disliking the skank who killed my father and this beautiful man holding my hand.

  “You don’t have to hate Chloe.” Logan gives a sad, lopsided grin. “It’s not important. Hate takes too much energy, and Chloe isn’t worth it.”

  “Right. I should pity her.” Too bad for Chloe because I only seem capable of pitying people I like. “So, what do you think happened to Gage? He said he was going to get some work done at school, but he was supposed to be back on Paragon an hour ago. He was already late when I walked into the bowling alley.” And here I thought that was simply code for running out and getting me a last minute birthday gift or a bouquet of flowers.

  Logan shifts uncomfortably. He suspects foul play. I can tell by the way he’s trying to shrug it off as if it were no big deal that Gage is missing out on the most important moment of our lives.

  My mother comes back and swoops around me as the hours run out on the day.

  That demon of a machine ticks like a bomb, and my body decides to cut to the chase and get right to the good part.

  “Oh God.” My chin dips to my chest as Logan begs me to breathe it out with him. “How could he do this to me? I never want him or his penis around my body again!” My voice warbles into a whine as I dig my head back into the pillow. “All he did was enjoy one short-lived orgasm, and my body has had to pay for it ever since! And now he’s not even here doing the hard part with me!” Tears sting as they trail down my face. “He was supposed to be here toughening my nipples.” I sob through the pain. “And showing off those damn vibratory skills his demonic father gifted him.” My eyes spring wide as a thought comes to me in the height of my delirium. “Demetri!” I shout between hiccupping bouts of panting. “Get him down here!” I nod to Logan who’s holding his finger to his lips, still breathing even-keeled.

  “Don’t you shush me!” I let out a horrific cry, joining the labor and deliver choir a little sooner than expected. As soon as this infernal fire in me dies down, I dive into Logan’s jeans and excavate his phone. I put in a spastic text to Demetri that says GET GAGE AND DRUGS, YOU MOTHERFUCKER! And then a group text to Harrison and Giselle. Get up to my room quick! They’re handing out morphine like candy! And DOLPHINS!

  It doesn’t even make sense, but with those two, it doesn’t really have to.

  Within thirty seconds, Ellis and Giselle burst through the doors with pink and blue balloons, along with two giant Mylar monstrosities that read It’s a Boy! And the other It’s a Girl!

  “Covering your bases?” Logan slaps Ellis five.

  Giselle springs to my side. “Where are they?” She pecks her gaze around the room, her eyes glowing with delusional d
elight.

  “Oh, they’re coming. You and Ellis should have a seat. Trust me, you don’t want to miss a thing.”

  “Really?” She clutches her chest. “Oh, Skyla, this is the best day ever!” She pulls Ellis toward the peanut gallery set up at the foot of the bed.

  “You’re not moving, Harrison.” It comes out a little gruffer than intended. “I’m having these babies because of you, so it’s only fair you get to witness their birth. Not only that, but Gage is so not over the fact you’re doing his sister.”

  “Ellis and I love to do things together.” Giselle gives a dreamy smile to the stoner in our midst.

  “Do you like those special hugs that Ellis gives you?” Ridiculous code for sex in my opinion. Ellis is practically a predator.

  “Skyla!” Giselle blushes fifty shades of embarrassed. “I won’t talk about those things. Not with my uncle in the room.” She mouths sorry over to Logan.

  “I think what Skyla is trying to say”—Logan glances to me for a second—“is that what you’re about to see is what can happen to girls who get those special hugs. It’s a very natural part of the human experience, and she’s really glad to share it with you.” He glares at Ellis a moment. “With both of you.”

  “Shit,” Ellis whimpers, wiping the sweat off his brow. “I might need a barf bag.”

  The needle spikes again, and my contractions start in wild and mean. It’s going to be a hell of a night if these babies don’t get here soon.

  Long stretches of time pass. The nurse comes back in with my mother, and I have the sudden urge to throat punch both of them.

  “Is he coming?” I wail to the nurse.

  Mom touches her cool hand to my forehead. “The Olivers are still looking for him.”

  “Not him.” Who the hell cares about Gage at this point? As far as I’m concerned, he’s no more than a sperm donor who long since fulfilled his part of the bargain. “The doctor!” My voice breaks. “Dr. Drug.” My mind is so warped and twisted I can’t even remember what kind of doctor he is.

  Nurse Allegra gives Logan a side-glance. “There’s been a slight delay, but I assure you he’s on his way.”

  Shit. “On his way from where? The Mars expedition?”

  “The mainland.” She smiles as if this were great news. “He’s in the middle of a back surgery in Seattle.”

  “Seattle!” I sob into the word. “It might as well be Mars.”

  “Oh, hon,” Mom coos before looking to the nurse. “What are her stats? Is she dilated? Is she effaced? Her water broke hours ago. My daughter is not going to have a dry birth.”

  “That’s why I’m here.” The nurse gloves up, and her hand is quick to disappear beneath my gown. Her roaming fingers enter my body rather unceremoniously and set off a nuclear bomb of a contraction. FUCK! Swear to God, I want to kill her by way of shoving more than my lethal foot in her face. In fact, I’ve just added slaughtering both her and the anesthesiologist (Just remembered!) onto my to-kill list. Gage is surprisingly at the top with Tad cluttering the bottom for tooting his way into my birthing experience.

  Allegra jumps as if she just won the lottery while her hand remains steadfastly embedded in my body. “Ten centimeters and one hundred percent effaced!”

  “You can stop fisting me now,” I growl through the pain.

  Both Mom and the nurse scream with glee, exchanging high fives like they were old college buddies with bets on the game. Only too bad for me because I’m still holding the ball—balls—in this one-woman sport.

  “No need for the anesthesiologist now.” The nurse gives a knowing nod to my mother.

  “Thank heavens we evaded that nightmare!” Mom is equally on board with this complete nonsense.

  “What?” I wail. “No! Don’t cancel a thing! I still want it! I want all the drugs he has to offer! I’m a pill popper, too! It doesn’t have to be a needle.” Because, dear God Almighty, I hate them.

  The nurse frowns, still fishing around in my body like she lost an earring in there. “No one’s dropped into the canal yet.”

  “Oh hell.” Mom panics. “We’ll need to do some nipple stim.” She shakes her head while eyeing my chest.

  “Oh no, you don’t.” I cinch the fabric around my chest.

  “Normally, I would ask Gage to do it, but since he’s up and done a disappearing act, I’ll have to step in.” Mom peels open my gown, exposing my oversized breasts as if this was totally acceptable—but, then, this is her we’re talking about.

  “Logan!” I cry as the pain amps up, so hard, so fast I can’t breathe.

  The next thing I know, fingers are twisting my nipples, and I look down, horrified to see that the hand is rather masculine in nature, rough to the touch, yet gentle considering the circumstances. Logan! Gah! I shake my head, and he retracts.

  “One in the hole!” the nurse belts out. If I didn’t have a lead weight between my legs, I’d kick her.

  “Go ahead and push!” Mom roars like a ravenous bear.

  “You can do this.” Logan smiles at me sweetly while wiping the hair from my sticky face.

  “Come here.” I press his forehead to mine, as his panting cools me. “Logan,” I whimper, digging my fingers into the back of his neck. Logan has become an extension of my body, my soul in these last few grueling hours.

  I bear down, girding myself for the birth of my first child. A life that Gage and I created—bastard as he shall be known to me from this day forward—but, still, it’s a token of our undying affection robed in flesh and blood. I push so hard I’m shocked I don’t have an aneurysm right here on the spot. And nothing. The contraction subsides, and so do the once joyful expressions of both my mother and her first-in-command.

  Giselle and Ellis hardly take note as they busily plug into their phones.

  “Oh no, you don’t!” I shout. “This is a technology-free zone. Put away the cellular and pay attention to the data about to pop out before you!”

  “You’re going to push again with the next contraction,” Mom instructs. “And go!”

  Pushing turns out to be something I’m not very good at. Shocking, I know. It takes eight exhausting, demanding as hell grunting desires to expel these beings from my body before my mother lets out a warbling yelp.

  “You’re crowning!”

  A flashback of Emily’s birth hits me. I remember my mother shouting those very words as Emily’s vagina blew up like a balloon, and a red angry alien tried to fist its way out of it. “Hair! Lots of black hair!”

  “Oh God!” I pull Logan in close, with his crimson-laced eyes, the sweat beading around his temples. His body wants this to be over with just as much as mine.

  The door swings open, letting in a gush of cold air, and my heart leaps out of my chest because in this one moment all is forgiven, and all I want is my precious husband by my side.

  “Ga—shall,” I say as I give a half-hearted push. It’s not Gage at all, but my favorite trusty Sector. Unlike that flighty Fem I’ve apparently married—Marshall is ready to report for duty. Holy hell, what was I thinking gifting Gage the keys to my vagina? I bet this is his way of giving me the big FU—leave it to him to defect to the enemy’s side in the most dramatic fashion.

  “Touch me, Marshall!” I call out, breathless. “Twist my nipples!” I cry in agony. “Anything! I really don’t care. I just need your touch.” I hold out my free hand to him. There’s no way in hell I’m letting go of Logan.

  Marshall comes around and clasps his hand to mine. That sad expression in his eyes says it all. I ain’t gettin’ no satisfaction. Crap. It turns out my mother is a wicked witch after all. It looks as if I’ve been bamboozled by everyone and everything. The only mother pure and true is this one in front of me with her cell phone pointed squarely at my nether regions.

  “Oh God, no filming!” I squeal.

  “Your mother says hello.” Marshall gives a kind-hearted smile. “She wishes you well and—”

  “Stop. If you want to live with all of your parts, do no
t repeat a word that monster has to say.”

  The lights dim a moment.

  “Skyla!” Mom gives a spirited cry. “Push!”

  My body, my entire being works to expel these children.

  “There’s a head!” Ellis barks in fright. “It has a head! The fucking head is out!” He gets up and staggers toward the window. “Shit!”

  “That is not a dolphin.” Giselle sits pale with shock, and, in a tiny satisfied moment, I realize my work is done in that respect. I have a feeling those special hugs Ellis doles out will be few and far between. “Skyla? There’s a bloody baby stuck in your—”

  “Suctioning!” the nurse calls out.

  Mom plucks off my gown, fully exposing my oversized, sore, and slightly chaffed nipples, my legs spread wide with my pale, enormous belly spiking in the air like a skin-colored weather balloon.

  “I got this.” Mom dives down between my legs and pulls it right out from under its arms. “It’s a boy!” she shouts, and they’re the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard in my life. Carefully, she lands the slippery being over my belly.

  Logan presses a quick kiss to my mouth, his hot tears mingling with mine as he lingers with his trembling lips.

  “You did it.” He offers a partial embrace before touching the baby over its precious, glistening back. The nurse picks up the tiny angel and gives a swift pat until he starts in on a beautiful cry, lethargic and quiet like the trembling of a lamb. She lays him over my chest once again.

  “He’s beautiful.” I warble through tears. He’s perfect, with his tiny nose, his ears peaked and slightly pointed like that of his father. His eyes are squinted shut, but even like this, I can see Gage in him. Miniature Gage. I cry and laugh at the same time.

  “Look at that! He’s got dimples.” Logan rubs my arms as I pull the baby up and see them for myself.

  Sure enough, there they are, blinking in and out as if to annunciate themselves.

  “Oh my God!” My chest trembles as a laugh strums through me. “He’s so precious.” Logan and I laugh through tears. “Hello, you.” I nuzzle in close and touch my nose to his. “I love you. Yes, I do. I love you.”