by Holly Rayner
Mia wasn’t sure if her stomach was bothering her because of her pregnancy or because of the fact that the funeral would be starting soon; she just knew that as she watched Rami move around the room, welcoming those friends and family members who hadn’t already been at the family compound, she had to struggle not to fidget, or dart into the ladies’ room.
She had dressed carefully, smoothing her hair into a deceptively simple, chic-looking style before covering it with the black scarf she had bought on Rami’s suggestion. The dress she had bought was not exactly shapeless—it was definitely obvious that Mia was pregnant—but the neckline showed no cleavage, and she hoped that it managed to look both flattering and appropriately modest. Rami’s family was secular, but they still followed Arabic standards of dress and behavior. Mia had been relieved to find that Rami’s two sisters were dressed similarly to her, while his widowed mother was slightly more conservative, with a dark lace veil obscuring her face.
The night before, Rami had told her that he would have to deliver the eulogy at the ceremony. “I have no idea what to say,” he had said, cradling her in his arms long after the family had either left for the evening or retired to their guest rooms. “I was his eldest son, but I don’t feel like I really knew him at all.”
“From what you’ve told me about him, I suspect your father was a difficult man to know,” Mia had said, reaching up to comb her fingers lightly through Rami’s hair. “Maybe focus on what you know about his life? He was a good provider, wasn’t he? And I’m sure he must have loved your mom. I’m sure he loved you, too.”
Rami had nodded. “I think he loved me more than I realized,” he had said, slowly. “Although he didn’t really trust anyone in the family enough to know anything about his work. He kept those two lives separate.” Mia had nodded.
“Well, that’s something you could talk about,” she had suggested. “Anyway, long eulogies are terrible. Stick with what you do know about him, and focus on the positive stuff.”
Rami had laughed. “You know, it’s funny. On the one hand, I am supposed to be succinct and direct, masculine, and in control. On the other hand, it’s almost expected that I’ll have dozens of things to say about him, to eulogize him. He was my father—I must do a good job of honoring him.” Rami had sighed.
“You can do this, Rami,” Mia had told him, giving his hand a squeeze. “I can tell you’re really working hard. You are acting like exactly the kind of man I’ve always known you can be. It makes me really happy to see it, even if I hate that losing your father seems to be what brought it on.”
Rami had given her a crooked smile and a quick, loving kiss. “People are depending on me,” he had said. “I lost sight of that, with you and the baby, and I’m so sorry for what that did to us. When my father died, it wasn’t something I could put aside—even if I wanted to. And now, today, I have to step up. I have to do what’s right.”
***
Mia started as the sound of applause cut through her thoughts. “If you will all please make your way into the chapel” the funeral director announced. He was sharply dressed—almost as sharply as Rami—and something about his manner relaxed the tension inside of Mia. He looked simple, honest, and homely; she doubted if she would ever be able to pick his face out of a lineup, but there was something about him that comforted her.
Rami came to Mia’s side and led her into the chapel, holding her hand. He guided her to the row where the closest family members would be seated, and while there were many people Mia would have preferred to sit next to other than his mother, she understood why he steered her to that position. Rami sat at the end of the row, where he could get up at his part of the ceremony without disturbing anyone. Mia closed her eyes, breathing slowly; she felt a flicker, an almost-jolt deep in her hips. Braxton-Hicks contractions, nothing to worry about, she told herself. The tension passed after a moment, and Mia opened her eyes again, knowing that pregnant or not, she needed to be paying attention.
The funeral director began speaking as soon as everyone was seated and quiet, addressing the family and friends. Although Mia knew that he probably said almost exactly the same words at almost every funeral he officiated, she found herself pulled into the lulling comfort of his remarks, nodding along with the points that the man made. “And now, I would like to invite our dear friend’s eldest son to say a few words about his father.” Mia gave Rami’s hand a squeeze and watched as he stood, quickly making his way to the lectern.
“Good morning everyone,” Rami said, looking over the room with the faintest of smiles on his lips. “It’s very comforting to see so many people present to honor my father. So many of his business associates, friends and family are here with us today, to pay their respects to a great man.” Mia glanced around furtively and saw the men and women around her nodding.
Rami licked his lips and began to speak again. “When I realized that I would of course have to speak about my father, at first I felt afraid; how could I say enough to honor the man who raised me, who had been so many things to so many people?” He paused to take a breath. “I know that my father was, above all things, a man of strength. A man of pride.” An expression passed over Rami’s face, too quick for Mia to follow. “He believed in taking care of his family, in helping whenever he could. He was a staunch ally to his many associates, and a strong father to his children.”
Mia felt her eyes beginning to sting, and to her surprise, Rami’s mother reached for her hand, squeezing it. As Rami continued, mentioning a few anecdotes from his childhood, Mia realized that she had never felt more proud of him. “As I was going through his effects in his office the other day, at the bottom of his files and drawers, I found this picture.”
Rami held up a photograph, featuring a man with a child—obviously a very young Rami—on his shoulders. “To me, this symbolizes the fact that, while my father may have always seemed to have put his business first, it was his family that formed the base of everything he did.” Rami swallowed and Mia could see tears glimmering in his dark eyes. “In spite of mistakes that he might have made, I know that he cared about all of us. I know that he loved us.”
Mia barely paid attention to the rest of the ceremony; she was only dimly aware of Rami’s presence next to her, of the unrelenting grasp of his mother’s hand on hers. She moved automatically, standing and walking, stopping, bowing her head and looking up in unison with the people around her. She knew she had no right to grieve Rami’s father; she had never even met the man. But she grieved for Rami’s sake, for his widow’s sake, for the sake of his other children and the family that she knew would miss him dearly.
Mia winced her way through the rest of the service, the burial, and the reception afterward, politely answering questions from family members and friends about her pregnancy and her connection to Rami. After a while, she was feeling utterly exhausted. The Braxton-Hicks contractions came and went, becoming progressively more intense throughout the day, and by the time the extraneous guests began leaving, she wanted nothing more than to lie in the bath tub for an hour or two—maybe allow herself a nap in the hot water.
“Ma, everyone,” Rami said, just when Mia was planning to make her excuses and go into the bedroom she shared with Rami. “I have to tell you all something.” Mia pressed a hand to her abdomen as a particularly intense contraction rippled through her, forcing herself to breathe and let it pass.
“What’s wrong, Rami?” his mother had just removed her veil; it was crumpled in her hands, ready to be put aside.
“I’ve gone through Ba’s affairs, all of his business paperwork and financials,” Rami said slowly. Mia saw him take a quick breath. “I’ve talked to his accountants, and his lawyers.” Rami pressed his lips together briefly. “I’m afraid that Ba was not…his businesses weren’t in the position he wanted everyone to think they were. His empire…” Rami shook his head. “All of it was propped up with loans, and debt. By the time everything is cleared through his estate, there will be almost nothing left for us.”
Mia gasped at the same moment that Rami’s siblings and mother did; but while she had heard the announcement, her attention broke away from what Rami was saying as a savage contraction jolted through her. The next instant, when she felt it begin to abate, Mia was shocked to feel a sudden gush of wetness erupt from somewhere inside of her, flooding out of her body. Her eyes widened and she looked around in panic.
“Rami…” Mia’s stomach lurched as she realized what had happened. “Rami—Rami, my water just broke.” She knew this shouldn’t be happening yet; she had four more weeks before she should be in labor. Mia groaned, beginning to pant as her heart beat faster in her chest. Her baby was coming prematurely, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
ELEVEN
“Breathe, Mia,” the nurse said firmly. “You have to breathe. If you pass out on us, you’re not going to be doing yourself or the baby any favors.” Another contraction ripped through her and the air left Mia’s lungs in a long, loud cry as she grabbed for the railings of the bed. The nurse was unruffled by her screaming. “Good girl; if you’re shouting you’re breathing.”
“I wish you would shut up and let me push already!” Mia inhaled in a sharp gulp, throwing her head back against the pillows. There was not a single part of her body that wasn’t drenched in sweat; that didn’t feel as though it was being slowly ripped into shreds by the monumental pressure and ratcheting tension of the contractions the gripped her, wrung her out, and then stopped, over and over again.
“If I let you push now, you’ll rip yourself apart,” the nurse countered.
“It already feels like I’m ripping myself apart,” Mia protested. The contraction eased slightly and she looked around the room for her fiancé. “If I had known, Rami, that this was what childbirth would feel like…I would have demanded…three million from you,” she told him between panting gasps for breath.
Rami chuckled, coming closer and pushing her sweat-sticky hair out of her face. The nurse raised an eyebrow. “We met when I was seeking a surrogate for my child,” Rami told the woman, whose name Mia couldn’t actually recall. “We never expected it, but we fell in love while going through the process.”
The nurse shrugged and nodded. “I’m going to examine you again, Mia, is that okay?” Mia closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. She tried to focus on her breathing, to inhale and exhale the way she had been shown at her prenatal classes, but the pain was so bad that she couldn’t concentrate; she felt as though she might throw up at any moment. She barely noticed as the nurse flipped up the bed sheet and examined her. “You’ve got a while to go yet,” the nurse reported. Rami turned to look and Mia reached out quickly, grabbing at his wrist.
“Do not look down there,” she told him in an almost-growl. “If you ever plan to have sex with me again, you don’t want to see what’s going on down there.”
“I’ve seen babies born before, Mia,” Rami told her mildly. “Unless you’re giving birth to Cthulhu, I don’t think anything that’s happening under your gown is going to make me want to never touch you again.” The nurse tittered quietly and Mia scowled at the man she loved, gripping his wrist even more tightly.
“If I was giving birth to Cthulhu, it might be progressing a little more quickly,” she said, panting for breath. “And it would all be your fault.”
Rami patted her hand, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze.
“You’re doing fine, Mia,” the nurse said again. “It just takes time. You’re actually moving along very quickly for a first-time labor.”
“It doesn’t feel quick!” Mia released Rami’s arm, grabbing onto the railings once more as a new contraction ripped through her, lighting up her nerves with electric fire. “It feels like a goddamn…” Words deserted her as a yell muscled its way up inside her throat. “Like a goddamned eternity!” Mia groaned as her muscles flexed and strained. She could feel the baby moving inside of her, struggling with the tidal forces that were pulling it inexorably towards its birth.
Somewhere underneath her pain, and the incredible pressure building in her body, a small but forceful part of Mia’s brain was deeply concerned about the fact that the baby was being born a full month early. Before her labor pains had become as intense as they now were, Mia had asked the nurse about how dangerous her labor would be, given that the baby was not quite at full term.
“Well, it’s not an exact science, determining the due date. A month before or after isn’t too unusual. We’ll be watching carefully to make sure there aren’t any complications,” the nurse had explained.
The contraction began to ease and Mia sagged back against the bed once more, panting and gasping. She turned her head limply to look at Rami. “I really just want this to be over. Why can’t you be the one to do this?”
“I’d already be dead if I was,” Rami told her. He smiled, taking her hand in his. “You’re so strong, Mia. You can do this. You’ve been through harder things.”
“You have no idea,” Mia told him, almost bitterly. “You have no idea how hard this is.”
“Do you want some ice chips?” he asked, his face concerned.
Mia swallowed, wondering how her skin could be so slick and her mouth so dry. What she really wanted was a big glass of water—but they wouldn’t let her have anything to drink or eat, just in case she had to be put under anesthesia for an emergency C-section.
“Sure,” she said weakly, closing her eyes. She felt Rami let go of her hand as he left her side. Over the bleeping of monitors and the hum of machines, she heard the clatter of ice and opened her eyes in time to see Rami return, a cup of ice chips in hand.
“I need to run into the hall for a minute, Mia,” the nurse said. “You’re doing fine. Just remember to keep breathing. Eat your ice chips and hold tight, okay?”
Mia scowled at the woman; even though she knew that the nurse wasn’t being intentionally cruel, she had an unavoidable sense that everyone in the room—Rami included—was somehow her enemy. The nurse left the room and Mia sucked on a mouthful of ice, wishing she could somehow get the chilly cold down where it would do the most good—between her legs.
“Do you want to try and get up and walk a little bit? Ma said that can help.”
Mia took a slow breath and considered the question. “I don’t even know if my legs will work,” she said, looking at Rami with a kind of weak desperation. “My thighs feel like they’re on fire, and everything below my knees might as well not exist.”
“Do you want to at least give it try?” Rami rubbed her palm with his thumb. “Don’t worry, I’ll hold you up.”
Mia tilted her head back onto the pillows and took a few slow, deep breaths in and out, trying to clear her head. “Okay,” she said finally, “I’ll try.” She sat up, and Rami took her hand. Mia could still feel the rippling of muscles through her back, through her abdomen and down into her legs. Estimating that she had a minute or two before the next contraction, she somehow got onto her feet and Rami helped her take a few steps around the bed, holding her up all the while.