“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!” the 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.
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,” th
e 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 another 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 enough, 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 walk 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. You’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.
&n
bsp; “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.
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