Marital Bitch

by Jc Emery

  "Yeah, I heard you, crazy. Now, I have to go!" I push past my pretty girl and run out the door and toward the screaming, James on my tail. As we race down the street, I can't help but smile. She said it.

  "I'm going to kick your butt when you get home, Bradley Patrick!" Colleen screams from the doorway. I spare a moment to look back at her. She's shaking her fist wildly. She really grew some balls in the last few minutes and it's about fucking time. My pretty girl loves me.

  We turn the corner and arrive on the scene in time to see a late model Cadillac pulling towards us. James and I draw our weapons and order the car to stop. The driver, a haggard old drunk I recognize from a few busts years ago, looks panicked and slams on the gas.

  My head is only half in the game as the rest of me is still with Colleen. She loves me. The distraction proves costly and I rush forward just as the car jerks toward me. The driver swerves and knocks me to the ground with the force of the bumper.

  Next thing I know James is calling the incident in as an "officer down." I'm lying flat on my back, panting, afraid to move. I can feel my legs and arms. Nothing is numb. My right foot is killing me. The throbbing is out of control. And then the dizziness sets in and everything goes black. In the background I can hear James shouting at the driver and his accomplice. James may be a lot of things, but he's a damn good cop. I know he'll keep them in the car until backup arrives.

  The next thing I know I'm in an ambulance, James's at my side, and he's on the phone telling someone I've been hit by a car. He's making it sound much worse than it actually is. In my foggy state, I decide that James has the ability to be a bit of a drama queen. I don't think anything is broken. I'm fairly coherent, and the paramedics aren't freaking out trying to resuscitate me. I'm fine. I try to tell him this but my words are slurred.

  "Sir, please just relax," the paramedic orders me. My body is heavy and it's difficult to move so I take her advice. We get to the hospital and they whirl me through the E.R. and a doctor is at my side immediately. James is nowhere to be found. They run all kinds of tests, checking for internal bleeding and broken bones and anything else that might be wrong with me. They find that the big toe on my right foot is broken, but nothing else. When the fog clears and I'm able to talk to the doctor, he determines that I have a mild concussion and the one broken toe; otherwise I'm fine.

  It feels like hours later when I'm finally settled in a hospital room. They plan to discharge me in a few hours as long as I don't show signs of any complications. Not a minute after they get me propped up in bed does Colleen come bursting through the door. Her face is bright red and she's covered in snot and tears. My heart falls, realizing how worried she must have been about me.

  I open my arms wide and she runs into them, sobbing all along the way. My body is sore and a little uncomfortable with the strength she's using in clinging to me, but I can't bear to let her loosen her grip. Colleen crawls up in the bed with me and curls into my side.

  "Shh," I try to calm her, "It's okay pretty girl. I'm okay," I whisper and kiss her on her head. She sobs even harder and hugs me tighter, if that's even possible. A few minutes pass and she calms herself.

  "I thought—," she begins, unable to finish her thought.

  "I know," I whisper, rubbing her back. "I'm sorry I scared you." She nods and looks up at me. She's a mess.

  "I thought you were really hurt and I didn't know what I would do without you," she babbles. Colleen always babbles when she's scared. Her voice gets high-pitched and she talks at hyper-speed. "I love you so much. You can't ever do that to me again." I smile at her words. Hearing her say she loves me after thirty-five years of guessing, wondering, worrying, and she's finally said it to me.

  "What was that pretty girl?" I ask, a devious smile on my face.

  "I said 'you can't do that to me again' you jackass. I thought you were dying and it was just your dumb toe!" She scowls at me and sniffles. I chuckle.

  "No, I don't think that's what you said. Tell me, pretty girl, what did you say?" I say gently, hoping to coax it out of her.

  "I said 'you can't do that to me again'. I love you too much!" And the moment she says it, she stops in her tracks; frozen in fear once again. I tilt her chin up and direct her face towards mine, gathering the courage to say to her what I've waited a lifetime to say.

  "I love you, pretty girl. I love you when you're bossy. I love you when you're obnoxious. I love you when you're mean. I love you when you're kind. I love you even when I can't stand you." She smiles bright, tears forming in her eyes. She mouths the words 'I love you' back at me and wiggles up to kiss me. The kiss is quiet and gentle.

  "I want you to marry me," I say. It takes her a moment to understand what I mean. I want her to marry me the right way. A warmth spreads through me that I can't describe.

  "At St. Brigid's," she nods and we both grin. St. Brigid's Catholic Church is where our parents used to drag us every Sunday and for important holidays. St. Brigid's is where we took our communion and where we were baptized. It's more than just a church for us, it's a testament to how we've always been intertwined. Even when we were apart, living our own lives, we've always been connected.

  In the middle of our conversation there's a light knock at the door and a nurse walks in. Colleen chooses to ignore her as she checks out my vitals. The brief pull from our fantasy world makes me realize that what I thought was the warmth of Colleen's love spreading through me is actually a hot liquid seeping into the bedding. I look down and realize that Colleen is immobile and her eyes are looking everywhere but at me. Finally she turns towards me, pleading with me not to say anything. About what? The nurse maneuvers around the bed and catches sight of the soaked bed sheets.

  "Mr. Patrick," the nurse asks, "Did you have an accident?" My eyes grow wide and I realize what's happened. I may have been hit by a car but I think I'd know if I peed myself. Colleen nods furiously.

  "Oh, Bradley," Colleen says all too innocently, "you poor thing!" I look down, trying to inspect.

  "That's not my pee," I say, nervously. The nervousness is not helping matters one bit. It's making me look guilty, when really, I'm afraid to find out that it is what I think it is. Because I think Colleen peed on me and that's equal parts disgusting and disturbing.

  The nurse walks closer and asks Colleen to stand up. She refuses. Colleen's eyes once again shoot around the room. And that's all the confirmation I need that my pretty girl just peed on me. She peed on me.

  I'm not mad, a little grossed out, but not mad. I'm also slightly worried about what would cause a grown woman to pee her pants.

  "Ma'am," the nurse persists, "I need to change the sheets." Colleen shakes her head and she starts crying hysterically.

  "Okay, it's my pee. Are you happy?" She's yelling, probably alerting the whole damn floor that she peed on me. Just saying it makes it sound like some weird sex game. Colleen flings herself off of me and when she stands I can see the wet spot on the crotch of her yoga pants. Before I can tell her it's okay, even if it kind of isn't, she rushes into the en-suite bathroom and slams the door, wailing on the inside.

  The nurse decides to throw me a bone and smiles softly. "It's okay, Mr. Patrick. Lots of women have trouble controlling their bladders when they're pregnant." I pause before responding and think about that. For a few weeks I've had the subtle suspicion on the back of my head that Colleen might be pregnant. I wasn't sure and I thought I might be crazy or it might be wishful thinking; but I didn't have anything else to explain her insanity and weight gain.

  "She's not—or we don't know that she is," I fumble over my words; the nurse smiles and nods.

  "She is," she says, "I can tell these things." And then she walks out and returns with an orderly who brings in a fresh bed and some supplies. After a few minutes of prodding the nurse convinces Colleen to open the bathroom door and to accept the offered hospital gown. Her small, pale hand slips out, grabs the gown, and jets back in. After some time, she even lets the nurse in the bathroom with her. Whe
n she emerges, she's wearing a hospital gown and I'm, thankfully, in a fresh bed and new gown myself. Unfortunately, I also had to undergo a sponge bath from Alejandro, a very nice, but very male nurse.

  "Waddle on over here, pretty girl and tell me what you're thinking," I grin. Her face is fuller than it used to be. If this was two months ago, that gown would be like a tent, but now it gently hugs her hips and her breasts appear much larger. She's looking shy and a little nervous.

  "I think that first test was wrong, but I'm scared for it to have been right." I nod, understanding that. The negative results from the first test were really hard on her. I don't want her going through that again, but damn if I wouldn't feel better if she were knocked up and not just a drive-by peer. There's a lot I'll live with, but getting peed on in the middle of the night is not one of them—not on a routine basis anyway.

  Colleen walks up to me but doesn't crawl in the bed. "I don't want to pee again," she confesses. I reach over and grab her by the hips and pull her up against the bed, letting my hands travel. She squirms under my touch, uncomfortable in her own skin.

  "Please let me touch you." I continue to let my hands travel up and down her sides before I go for the gold. She tries to pull away when I touch her stomach, but I refuse to let her.

  "Whether this is all you or this is a baby, I love you just the same. I'm not going to judge you, pretty girl." Her body begins to relax and I continue to feel the shape of her abdomen. I'd be lying if I said I could tell from touching her, but I can't.

  "That damn nurse made me pee in a cup," she mutters. I laugh loudly.

  "You mean you had more in you after that water show?" She smacks my arm and laughs.

  "You pee on someone once over a thirty-five year period and they just can't let it go," she smiles ruefully, lips pursed, and giggling.

  "When I said I wanted to get you wet, that wasn't exactly what I meant, pretty girl."

  "Shut up," she says, still in a fit of giggles.

  "I love you," I say. She mouths it back to me. It sounds natural, as it should. Loving Colleen is the most natural thing in the world for me. I don't know another way; but her loving me back still catches me off guard.

  The nurse pops her head in just as we're about to kiss. We both turn to her, suddenly a collective ball of nerves, and she nods her head, smiling and mouths 'congratulations'. I lean in and ghost my lips over Colleen's ear as the nurse closes the door to give us some privacy during this very big, life-changing moment for us.

  "So, if you're going to be peeing for the next few months, we're going to have to get you a diaper, pretty girl." She turns her head and narrows her eyes at me, full of playfulness; and then breaks into a big, teary grin.

  "We're having a baby," she whispers. I nod. We're having a baby.

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  (Colleen)

  Our babies.

  I SIGH AND blink back my exhaustion that has been creeping up on me for months now. It seems every time I think I turn a corner, something else pops up. First it was the throwing up—all of the freaking time—and then it was the persistent peeing. I flatly refuse to broach the topic of my bowel movements. Brad must love me to survive it. He really loves me.

  "Are you almost ready?" Brad calls out from the hallway with his toothbrush in his mouth. I give him a dirty look and point down to my bare feet.

  "Do I look ready to you?" I ask. We're two days away from Christmas and it's freezing cold outside. I can't very well parade outside barefoot.

  "Don't be such a smart ass, pretty girl," he says and runs the toothbrush over his teeth and smirks. "I've got enough dirt on you that you're gonna want to be nice to me." I scrunch up my nose and pout.

  "You start telling my secrets and no more belly for you!" I grin devilishly and rub my expanding belly. His eyes grow wide and he darts into the bathroom. Moments later he's rushing out and giving me a warning look.

  "That belly is half mine!" he objects and stalks toward me. I scoot back on the bed and put a pillow over my mid-frame. It doesn't do much to hide it, but I'm running out of things to cover ye old belly.

  "Nu uh, pal," I smirk and hold the pillow tight against me. "That baby is half yours. The belly is all mine." Brad reaches out and removes the pillow. He leans in and I can feel his breath on my neck.

  "Are you going to stop me from getting some cuddle time with my belly, pretty girl?" I giggle and nod my head. Being in love with Brad hasn't been all romance and hot sex. Actually, it's been mostly bickering, gas, and back pains; but we're in it together.

  Slowly, he leans me back on the bed and he lies down beside me and places his hand on my baby bump. I try to smack him away but he leans in and bites my ear.

  "Did you just bite me?" I ask, because really?

  "Did you just hit me?" he retorts.

  I shake my head slowly and smile at him. I feel a rumble in the depths of my belly and my face heats up. This has been happening on the regular the past few weeks, but it doesn't make every gassy incident any less embarrassing. But then something unexpected happens.

  Just as I'm preparing to embarrass myself and send Brad running for fresh air, I feel movement, like a swishing, and then pressure from the outside in, just under Brad's hand. I'm silent, unsure if I should say anything. But then it happens again. Brad is frozen, eyes fixed on my belly where his hand lie, and a smile on his face. The baby kicked. I start crying immediately.

  The past few months have been an emotional mess to say the least. From my birthday on, I've been experiencing things that bring even more tears to my eyes. For so long I had wanted to love and be loved in return, and I had been at a point where I didn't think it would happen for me. I had given up and quit going out. I had given myself over to work, and had accepted that my days and nights would consist of pleadings and correspondence, and summons, and The Toad.

  But when I had given up and thought that I wouldn't find whatever it was I had been missing, I did. And even more, I found it in the one person I never expected: Bradley Patrick.

  And he's here with me and our baby. The baby I thought I wasn't having. The baby I thought was all second-serving weight and depression. The baby that didn't bring us or keep us together; but is now so integral to who we are that it's unimaginable that he or she not be here: our baby.

  Brad holds me and I think I hear him sniffle, but I don't bring it up. I'm always amazed and caught off guard when he's as moved by this pregnancy as I am. For such a tough guy, he's a big softy.

  "Someone loves their daddy," I whisper and hiccup. He kisses my forehead. We stay like that for a few more minutes before Brad pulls away. If we don't get a move on we're going to be late for our doctor's appointment with the OBGYN.

  Slowly but surely, Brad helps me get my shoes on. The man is a great cop, but he's also a pretty darn good husband. And I'm just happy that his toe is all healed up. He sure is a damn baby when he's not feeling well.

  I HATE THE OBGYN. Dr. Roth is a lovely woman, she really is; but damn it to hell, I don't think she's ever warmed her hands up before an exam. In addition, those plastic gloves she wears aren't exactly warm, either. So every exam I feel like I'm being poked and prodded by the ice cream man. It's unnerving. That wasn’t even the hard part, though. When Dr. Roth explained the increased risks associated with babies born to women my age, I freaked out and couldn’t breathe. Brad was able to eventually calm me down by telling Dr. Roth that we didn’t want to hear anymore.

  This is our baby, will always be our baby, and we don’t give a damn what risks are associated with the pregnancy. Nothing is going to stop us from having our baby. And I loved him so much in that moment; I didn’t know what to do with myself. Dr. Roth has tried to do her duty as my doctor to prepare us for the big, scary stuff. But neither of us want to hear it. This baby is wanted and loved and for us, that’s all that matters.

  "Hold still, Mrs. Patrick," Dr. Roth says gently. She's spreading that damn goo all over my stomach again. The thing is that even after she clea
ns it off, I can still feel it on there, like a film that won't go away.

  "Yeah, quit squirming, pretty girl," Brad shoots me the eye. He's standing beside me, holding my hand. We're having an ultrasound today that should tell us if we're having a Margot or a Madison—Madison being a boy. My name choices, not his.

  "It's cold," I whine and bat my eyes at him, like there's something he can do. He rolls his eyes.

  "Suck it up, you baby," he smirks down at me and my pouting face. After we had our big 'I love you' moment, I thought I'd have more sway with him. I thought maybe batting my eyes would be the golden ticket to getting my way. In reality, I don't have any more sway than I did before. I still have a lot, but I'd been hoping for more. Lindsay tells me that I'm power hungry.

  Dr. Roth takes the wand from the ultrasound machine and holds it inches above my belly. "Are we ready to find out what we're having?"

  "Hell yes," Brad grins. We're at our sixteen-week check-up. During the last ultrasound we couldn't tell the baby's sex and there was some initial concern about the amount of weight I've put on. Apparently, at sixteen weeks, my body has managed to gain all I'm supposed to gain for the entire duration of this pregnancy. Brad tried to comfort me by assuring me that it was our son's boy parts that are causing the excessive weight gain. He's assuming we're having a boy—either that, he says, or we're having one chubby girl. He's a jackass, but he's my jackass.

  Dr. Roth brings the wand down to my belly and starts to move it around. We can hear the baby's heart beating. It sounds really fast, but Dr. Roth says that it's normal.

  The image on the screen is a little fuzzy, making it difficult to see my baby. Despite the weight gain, despite the cold goo on my belly, despite everything, this is my baby and he or she is the reason we're here. All I want is to see my baby.