Inside Out

by Lia Riley

  “So, you’ll do it?” He rolls a condom on.

  “God help me but yes.” I grab him by the root and he groans, his desire shoots through my fingers like a current. I let him enter me, but only an inch. “I’m not going to make it easy though, you know that, right?”

  “I’m counting on it.” He thrusts hard, breaking my grip. By the time he withdraws only to fill me again, I’m not sure if there’s a difference between comings and goings, but I’m ready to get back in the scariest game of all.

  Life.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bran

  I make no bones about admiring Talia’s ass as she bends to towel dry her hair. She’s still pink-cheeked from our epic shag and subsequent shower. Stick a fork in me. I’m done, can’t be bothered to budge from this sprawled-on-my-back position. One of the cats, Persimmon, sits in the doorway. Her orange tail twitches as she surveys the nursery. Blankets, sheets, jeans, shirts, and underwear are blasted in every direction. Bloody hell, it looks like a typhoon swept through here.

  “Is she checking me out?” I ask Talia as the cat focuses her yellow-eyed gaze on me and starts purring.

  “Huh?” Her phone buzzes, and she turns to hunt it down, finding it beneath a pillow.

  “It’s been ringing since you’ve been in the shower.”

  “Why didn’t you answer it?”

  “I hate the phone.”

  She rolls her eyes as the cat licks a paw. The purr intensifies, like there’s a motor in there. I think she winks at me.

  “Well, aren’t you a pussy pervert,” I mutter.

  “Don’t razz the cat!” The phone stops ringing, but whoever is on the other line immediately calls back for the fifth time. She pauses to tighten her towel around her chest before answering, as if whoever’s calling might suspect she’s naked. Damn. There goes my free peep show. She’s a cheeky one, mocks my protesting groan with a sexy pelvic wiggle.

  “Keep that up and I’m not responsible for my actions.” Even though I’m knackered, I’d still go another round.

  Talia pokes her tongue in my direction and extends a thigh through the towel slit in a showgirl move, flexing her pink-painted toes. She clearly wants to slay me. I’m rock hard before she hits answer and chirps, “Hello? This is Talia, Queen of Devilish Good Fun.”

  There’s a beat where her face is still flushed with amusement, but her brows knit, eyes blank with panic. “Dad? Wait. Stop. I need you to slow down. What happened? Who is in trouble?” Her tone turns my belly to water.

  I’m up, dressing in a flash as Talia nods. “Yes! Sorry, I’m still here. Don’t worry about a thing. We’re on it. See you at the hospital. She will be fine, promise.”

  She hangs up and throws on a shirt, fumbles for her pants. “It’s Jessie,” she says, doing the zip. “She phoned Dad freaking out after not being able to get through to me. He’s on campus and her water broke when she was getting out of the car in the driveway. I’m calling an ambulance. Can you run outside? Keep her calm?”

  I hear her real words. Do something. Fix this. Make everything better.

  I tear from the room, take the stairs three at a time, and trip over the dogs snoozing on the living room rug. They tag after me onto the veranda, try to lunge from the side door. “Sit!” I order in a tone that sends Chester squealing into the safety of his den. Out on the driveway Jessie leans against her Toyota. Her head hangs between her legs, elbows braced on her knees. Her ponytail bobs as she struggles to breathe slow and even.

  “Hey, Jessie.” I jog closer. “That’s the way, easy now. I’m here for you.”

  As if that’s going to make a bit of bloody difference.

  “Bran.”

  “Everything is okay.” I kneel on the concrete. My voice is low, carefully modulated, a tone I’d use to address one of my nieces if she were hurt. Important to pretend at calm, not let on that I’m shitting myself. Reframe the situation to a stubbed toe. A skinned knee.

  Jessie grapples for one of my hands with a guttural, animalistic sound. Her stomach heaves, moving like it’s got a life of its own. Bloody hell, I guess it does. No point pretending this is anything other than serious. She’s not full-term. Undiluted panic sluices through my limbs, makes me jittery as fuck. Another sob tears from her, one that’s high, keening, and rips off the dungeon door in my heart. The one swathed in iron chains and shielded by a pile of heavy boulders. Guess those defenses weren’t enough.

  I got Adie, my girlfriend before Talia, pregnant. Our relationship was already in the death rattle stage. She wanted to break up and lied about an abortion. Turns out she was fine with a baby. I was the unwanted one. The fetus had an abnormal heart and ended up stillborn. I don’t talk about it. Never think about it. Except when I wake in the deepest part of the night, choking on shame and a sadness beyond the powers of language.

  Jessie fumbles closer. She wipes her nose on my shoulder as her tears soak the side of my neck. There is a wet circle between her legs. Body fluids are everywhere. They don’t gross me out, but I can’t fix this. I’d do anything to make it better and don’t have the first clue where to start. I warned Talia. I tried to tell her that I wasn’t a hero. She didn’t listen. She wouldn’t believe me.

  Jessie whimpers through the duration of her contraction, unable to speak until it passes. “Promise you won’t let the baby die. Promise you won’t let the baby die.” She moans the phrase like a song on repeat. Each word is another bar to my own personal prison cell. I’m trapped in a waking nightmare.

  “You’ll be fine.”

  “Promise me.” Jessie won’t break her stare. She clings like I’m a bloody anchor rather than something next to useless. “I need your promise.”

  “I won’t let anything bad happen.” I’m fuck all qualified to make such an oath, but I’ll be hung before adding to her fear with my own shit. I grip her hand between both of mine. Project myself like the bloody definition of self-assurance. “No way is this baby dying.”

  But mine did. My intestines coil like a tiger snake. Venom spreads through my abdomen. Panic roils my bile.

  Don’t get sick. Stay in the game. Be strong for her.

  Jessie relaxes as if somehow my touch keeps away monsters. She doesn’t know I draw trouble like a magnet.

  “Hey, hey, you’re fine. I’ve got you.” I’m a fraud.

  “I called 911.” Talia flies from the house. “An ambulance has been dispatched.”

  I give her a curt nod, gritting my teeth while Jessie tears off my fingers as another contraction puts her on lockdown. Didn’t she just have one? Are they supposed to be this close?

  “Hurts.” She arches her back. “It’s coming. I can feel it.”

  “Grab my hand,” I order. “Squeeze as bad as it hurts.”

  Ow. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Still, the bone-crushing pain keeps me here, in the present. Away from the past and its demons.

  Jessie’s gaze is wild. She grunts, starts to bear down.

  Shit. “No! No! Breathe. Don’t push.”

  “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t stop this.” She clutches my hand so hard I lose feeling. “Want to push.” Her eyes bulge. “Got to.”

  “Focus on muscle relaxation.” I swipe her hair off her sweaty forehead.

  “I’m going to lose it, aren’t I?” Jessie whispers. “It’s early. Too early.” She yelps as another contraction bears down. They are coming around a minute apart.

  “Didn’t you and Dad do a pregnancy class?” Talia squats beside me. “Practice breathing techniques?”

  Jessie shakes her head and collapses against the open door. “The first class starts tomorrow. I don’t know what to do. I haven’t even read that far in What to Expect When You’re Expecting.”

  “Should I boil water?” I vaguely remember reading about someone doing this when a woman’s in labor. Shit. Why? Sterilization? My field of vision contracts. The world blurs on the edges.

  “Bran!” I jerk when Talia sets her hand on my lower back. “You’re
hyperventilating.”

  Jessie groans. Her face crumples when another contraction breaks. “Here we go again.”

  “You got this Jessie, you so got this,” Talia says, turning away from me with a worried look. “Your body knows what to do.”

  Jessie moans in a way that’s a cross between agreement and rebellion. I’m not even sure if it’s a cry of pain or fear—most likely both. Her gaze locks on me like I’m that kid from the nursery tale, Hans Brinker, the one who saved the Netherlands by putting his finger in the dike. I need to hold back her fear. The same fear that’s threatening to drown me. She looks too close. She’ll see that I can’t help. She’ll know. I can’t hide. “Talia, please.”

  Help me.

  “Come on, Jessie. Pretend you’re Rocky.” Talia is in ramble mode. Is she humming “Eye of the Tiger”? Whatever. Better than anything I got. “You’re getting the shit kicked out of you, but you’re going to dominate the ring.”

  There’s a high-pitched whine from an ambulance a few blocks away, coming closer by the second.

  “Rocky, huh? How many hits do you think I can take?” Jessie fights for good humor. That’s a positive sign, right?

  “You got this. You so got this.” Talia sounds calm. Believable. Her bright brown eyes radiate unshakable confidence. Hell, she’s almost got me sold.

  Jessie gives a weak nod. If the baby’s head pops out, I wouldn’t be shocked if Talia reached down and delivered it single-handedly. She’s being a bloody champion.

  Jessie transfers one of her hands from me to Talia, gripping us both. “You here for me, guys?” She stares at us like we’re going to single-handedly deliver us through the valley of darkness.

  “Remember,” Talia says with a sage nod. “Your body knows what to do.”

  The ambulance speeds up the street. Talia rushes to the sidewalk and jumps up and down. This is no Kermit flail. She’s gone full-scale Animal. She’s getting shit sorted while I’m worse than useless.

  The paramedics spring into action.

  “Hey,” Talia croons as they load her onto the gurney. “We’re right here, and you’re going to have a beautiful healthy baby.”

  “I’m going to need you to pant very gently, ma’am. Try not to push.” A paramedic checks between her legs. When he steps back his gloves are bloodstained. I swallow another rush of bitterness. Is this what Adie went through?

  “Her name is Jessie,” Talia tells the bloke. “She’s thirty-four weeks.” Despite her phobia about blood, she remains unfazed.

  “You’re almost fully dilated,” the paramedic tells Jessie.

  I don’t know exactly what that means, but from the way he says it, this can’t be good news.

  “This isn’t happening.” Tears course Jessie’s drawn cheeks. “I can’t do this.”

  “You’re rocking it.” Talia wipes Jessie’s face, keeps the tears from puddling in her ears. “This little baby is so lucky. You are going to be the best mom. All kids love animals, and you run a menagerie. And Dad? He’s like a rock ninja.”

  “Rock star.” Jessie’s attempt to laugh ends with a whimper. “Ouch, hurts.”

  They load her into the back of the ambulance, and we move to follow suit.

  The paramedic holds up a hand. “Sorry, only room for one. The other has to follow behind.”

  We glance at the haphazardly parked Toyota.

  “Maybe better if I drive?” Talia gives me a once-over. Do I look as ruined as I feel?

  “Go with Jessie.” I can barely manage to shake my head. “I’m fine.”

  “Bran…”

  “She needs you.”

  Talia bites her lip. She looks like she wants to say something else.

  “Later. We’ll talk later.”

  “Okay.” She forces a quick smile and rushes to the ambulance. The medics are getting Jessie sorted as Talia climbs in the back, talking a mile a minute. “Dad will be at the hospital when we get there. Remember, Davis is one of the best hospitals in the state. You and the baby are going to get top-of-the-line care. Everything is going to work out. This is what kids do, right? They cause all sorts of trouble. We make our parents’ lives haywire. The little one is doing its job. Think of it as a considerate heads-up. You thought you were in control, but guess what, you’re not. None of us are. What you need to do is fight. Fight for yourself. Fight for this baby. Fight like everything in the world depends on this.”

  All eyes train on Talia. She looks around and gives a self-conscious fist bump. “Go team!”

  The doors slam and I jump into Jessie’s sedan. The keys are still in the ignition. I reverse and follow the flashing lights. Try to remember to drive on the right side—fucking wrong side—of the road. It’s all I can do to keep focus. My thoughts drift to a faraway birth. A silent, still little body.

  Adie should have told me about the baby. She didn’t because I made it too hard. I wouldn’t have been able to change the outcome, but I could have been there, borne witness. I barely see the road as I drive.

  The ambulance halts by the ER doors and I park in the nearest available spot. Scott’s there, jumping out of his 4Runner. He sprints in my direction, darts in front of a car, ignoring the horn blast. His gaze is wild, unfocused. “Where is she?”

  “Over there.” I point to the ambulance where Jessie is being unloaded.

  “Scott,” she cries.

  Talia flashes her dad a thumbs-up then turns back to Jessie. “You’re a tiger, lady, got that?”

  “Tiger,” Jessie repeats with a weak smile.

  The paramedics push her inside. Scott plows after in hot pursuit. After all the hectic adrenaline-pumping confusion, the sudden shift to silence is disorienting. The ambulance drives off slowly and Talia and I are alone, like nothing ever happened.

  “Bran?” She settles a hand above my elbow, frowning at my flinch.

  “It’s cool. I’m fine.” My voice is hoarse as if I’ve been screaming.

  “You keep saying that.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “I’m almost scared to give you a hug. You’re about three seconds from shattering.”

  She’s not wrong. The life I helped create, one that died before it ever began, is an action that struck at my core, a rock on my soul’s windshield. It left a divot. One I wanted to ignore because to deal with it, bloody hell, what a nuisance. Instead, I tried to tell myself maybe it would be okay. But as with any ding, the inevitable happens. One day you see it. The first crack. It’s like a betrayal because you and the ding had an understanding. A truce. But it wasn’t content. The crack grew, fractured, and spread destruction to all corners. That’s the nature of an unchecked wound.

  “It’s stupid.” I loathe myself. Shouldn’t I be the strong one? I made Talia carry the weight of the whole situation in the driveway.

  “Your feelings are far from dumb.”

  “I don’t want to make this about what happened to me.” I start walking, where? I have no idea.

  “Bran, this is only you and me now. I’m listening. I’m an expert in panic attacks. You had one in the driveway.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” I double down on my pace.

  “Hey! Stop. If you run there is no possible way that I’ll catch you.” She grabs my hand and steers me to the curb in an out-of-the-way section of the parking lot. We sit. “Want to hear a story?”

  “No.” I don’t want to do anything except jackhammer my brain. I can’t even wish away the memories, because I wasn’t there. When death came to a life I created, I wasn’t there to say good-bye. “I don’t need stories.”

  “Too bad because I’ve got one. Once upon a time there was a boy who was ignored, who built walls around walls because he had to keep out the feeling that he didn’t matter. That he didn’t count. He was terrified that if he ever tried to open up and no one listened he’d feel worse. It was easier to give a hard face to the world. Shoot life the finger before getting one back.”

  I hunch down and grow still.

  Talia
practically crawls onto my lap. “You matter.” She takes hold of my cheeks. Her hands are so soft, warm. “You matter so much. And what you feel, matters to me.”

  We lock in a stare that has its own kind of gravity. In this universe there is no oxygen, only this pressure that builds behind my eyes until I’m certain we can’t withstand any more, and that’s when it happens. I yank her forward, crush her into my chest, and shed harsh, ragged tears into her hair. I hid these shameful feelings, fought them tooth and nail with rage and self-loathing. My grief tears me open, and all the poison washes away under the torrent. When I can finally speak, it’s nothing but a hoarse mumble. “Sorry to be so weak.”

  “This is the bravest I’ve ever seen you.” She settles my head on her lap. Her legs are bare, and I can smell a hint of her body lotion, vaguely sweet and comforting, like a vanilla slice. “I can’t change what happened for you in the past, but I can hold on.”

  The sun has almost set. Across the street is a cheap motel. The sign light shines in a shaft over the broken asphalt. Everyone falls somewhere on this line of living and dying, walking over moments that are violet-fragile. An invisible clock hangs over us all, and we need to live as if it’s not there, even as our hearts beat in time. Today, thousands of cogs have stopped, even as a thousand more begin.

  Some people believe we choose this birth. This life. I don’t know what I know and tonight, in the dark, that uncertainty suits me fine. Shadows tangle and in the stillness I breathe and she breathes and in this moment, us, breathing together is enough.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Talia

  After Pippa died I couldn’t bring myself to look at a hospital for ages. I had to avert my eyes if we drove past. As if beholding one would magically pull me or a loved one into its cold, sterile orbit. The endless, plodding weeks in South Africa helped desensitize me to the places. I’d gotten to where I honestly believed my dread was diminished. Hey, maybe hospitals aren’t the worst places in the world, I said to myself. I was wrong. I hadn’t been nearly specific enough.