The Other P-Word

by MK Schiller

  “You did. And you have with Evan too, even if he doesn’t have the surgery. You’ve made a difference in his life.”

  “It won’t matter.”

  Marley took the teacup from me, setting it down. I leaned against her shoulder. “I want to show you something.” She took out a worn page from her pocket. The paper had torn in a few places from being unfolded and refolded many times.

  “What’s that?”

  “Your letter to Santa. You were seven and I was fourteen.”

  “Why do you have it?”

  “I found it in Mom’s purse that year. Do you remember me when I was fourteen?”

  “You got in trouble a lot.”

  “Yeah, the nightmares were in full swing. I hated my life. I was at a point where I welcomed the misery. Anyway, I was trying to steal a twenty from Mom, and I found this letter. I stole it instead. Mom knew. Hell, I think she planted it there on purpose.”

  “Why did you want it?” I asked, carefully unfolding it. I remembered the paper—my mom’s special stationary. The writing was all uneven, the letters formed with such sharpness that I had surely broken quite a few pencils writing this. But I could tell I must have been determined for it to be neat.

  “You’ll understand when I read it to you.” She went to reach for the letter but stopped. “Actually, I have it memorized. Dear Santa, My name is Billie Marie Price. I know that sounds like a boy’s name but I swear I’m a girl. I met you at the mall last week, but you probably don’t remember since there were a lot of kids. I asked you for a Lady Lulu doll, but I changed my mind. I hope that’s okay. You see, my older sister Marley is different now than she was. She has scary dreams and swears a lot. One time she hit my mom. She didn’t mean to do it. She cries at night. I can hear her. She’s not bad girl. She’s a great sister. She showed me how to throw a ball like a boy. I don’t know why she is like this now. Santa—please fix her for me. Please make her smile again.” Marley’s voice choked. “I pray to God every night, but I think he’s too busy to help us. Maybe you can talk to him for me or put some magic potion in my stocking for Marley. I promise if you do this, I will give up all presents for the next ten Christmases and birthdays. All I want is my sister back. Write back if you need to ask questions, but not in cursive. I can’t read cursive yet.”

  I choked out a laugh at the last line, which transformed into a cry. Marley wiped my tears, or maybe I wiped hers.

  The memories started flooding back all at once. The reason I didn’t like Lady Lulu to begin with? She wasn’t the gift I wanted. The reason I loved her after? Marley seemed to be better after that Christmas, even though Santa hadn’t granted my wish.

  “Over the years, I’ve pulled this letter out, especially when I’m in a really dark place. It’s helped me more than you can know. It didn’t cure me of my depression but it provided the ray of light I desperately needed at the worst times. To know that someone loved me so much she’d give up Christmases and birthdays to see a smile on my face.” She patted my knee. “Little Bird, don’t ever think you don’t make a difference.”

  Dillon found us huddled up in the midst of tears.

  “What the hell is wrong with you two?” he asked, dragging a hand through his glossy curls.

  “Hormones,” we both said in unison.

  He shook his head, heading toward the kitchen. “I’m going to make a sandwich. There’s too much estrogen in here…even for me.”

  “Wait, Dillon…my water,” Marley said, her eyes widening.

  “Is it in the kitchen?”

  “No, it broke.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “I don’t see anything,” Dillon said, looking around the sofa for what I assumed was spilled water.

  Then his eyes landed on her lap. I’d never heard a guy shriek, but that’s what Dillon did.

  I stood up. “Oh my God, your water broke? Just like that?”

  “But the baby’s not due yet,” Dillon spat.

  “I guess she wants to be early,” Marley said, attempting to get up.

  “Shit!” Dillon and I both commanded at the same time. Then we head-butted each other as he went toward Marley and I headed for the stairs.

  “Damn, that hurt!” I screamed.

  “You have a small head but it’s as hard as a brick,” he said, rubbing his scalp.

  Marley sighed in frustration. “If Abbot and Costello are done with their routine, I’d appreciate a bit of assistance.”

  “Actually that was more like The Three Stooges.”

  “Dillon!”

  I took Marley’s hand just as a labor pain shot through her.

  “Is that your first labor pain?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  I walked Marley to the car while Dillon locked up.

  “I couldn’t find your overnight bag,” he said, jumping into the back seat.

  “It’s okay. We can get it later. Let’s just go.”

  I stepped on the accelerator.

  “Breathe, Marley,” Dillon said. Then he scrunched up his face and sucked in so much air I wondered if there was any for the rest of us.

  Marley bent over.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, grabbing her arm.

  “Yeah,” she said, cracking loudly with laughter. “You looked like you were going to poo, Dillon.”

  “Very funny. C’mon, kid, breathe with me. Why are you slowing down, Billie?”

  “Look.” I gestured to the elderly woman walking steadily despite her cane. Rolling down my window, I called to her, “Mrs. Garcia, what are you doing out here? You have to go home.” She wasn’t even wearing a jacket this time. No doubt she’d snuck out of the house again.

  “Oh, Marley, how are you?” she asked me. She looked inside the car. “What’s wrong with Billie?” I had no time to correct her. Marley let out another yelp but it wasn’t laughter this time.

  “You have to turn around and go home. It’s cold out here and there’s a busy street up ahead. You could get hurt.”

  “I’m going to the restaurant. It’s a big night for us. My husband will be wondering where I am.”

  “Billie,” Marley’s stained voice brought me back to reality.

  “Dillon?” I asked. “We can’t leave her.”

  “I’ll take her back,” he said. “I’ll meet up with you guys.”

  “Call Rick for me,” Marley said.

  “Okay, I’ll call him and everyone else.”

  “Tell him not to speed.”

  “Okay.”

  “Tell him I love him with all my heart.”

  “Okay already.”

  “And also…”

  “Pull away, Billie, before she asks me to have phone sex with her husband.”

  Dillon took Mrs. Garcia’s arm. I had no idea what he said, but I breathed a sigh of relief when she let him lead her back toward our subdivision.

  “How do you feel? Are you in pain?” I asked, when they wheeled Marley into the hospital.

  “It’s not bad. I’m nervous more than anything else. Stay with me,” she said, clasping my hand.

  “You know I’m not moving from you.”

  My cell phone chimed. “Hi, Rick.”

  “How is she?” he asked, the desperation in his voice apparent.

  “She’s fine. She can tell you herself.”

  I handed the phone to Marley. They had a conversation full of loving reassurances—on her part.

  She handed the phone to me. “He wants to talk to you.”

  All I heard was heavy breathing. I wondered if he was pranking me for a second. “Rick?”

  His voice sounded strained and out of breath. I could hear the roar of people and traffic.

  “Take…care of her… for me.” Deep sigh. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Are you running here? You sound like you’re competing in a marathon?”

  “I would if I had to, but no. I’m just trying to get to my damn car.”

  “Tell him not to speed,” Marley said.
>
  “Don’t speed.”

  He stopped for a second. Coincidently, his breaths required the same countdown as Marley’s contractions. They might not have been together, but Rick and Marley were in perfect sync nonetheless. “Billie, she is my life. Please make sure that she has everything she needs. Especially those things she feels too proud and stubborn to ask for. Namely, an epidural.”

  “I will.”

  “And call me with any updates.”

  “Will do, boss.”

  “Thank you, Billie.”

  “She’s my sister, Rick. You know she’s in safe hands.”

  “I wouldn’t have left if I believed otherwise.”

  The doctor announced that Marley was three centimeters dilated. She gripped my hand so hard I wondered if I’d ever be able to hold a pen again. I made her laugh with my impressions of Dillon’s heavy breathing. Between the contractions, we had snippets of conversation. She tried to work through the pain of pushing life out of uterus. I tried to push through the pain of having permanent carpel tunnel, thanks to her strong grip.

  “You are freakishly strong,” I said.

  “I’m sorry. Give me your other hand.”

  “No way, that’s my writing hand.”

  “Dillon texted. He’s here. Mom and Stevie are too. They only allow one person at a time. Do you want me to send Mom in?”

  “Soon.”

  She didn’t say it but she kept looking at the door, waiting for Rick.

  “He’ll be here.”

  “I can’t believe I’m going to be a mother.”

  “You’re going to be a great mother, Marley.”

  I went to waiting room. Mom went in. We all checked on Rick’s progress, but as it would happen, it was rush hour and all major roads were piled with traffic. Not surprising, but no less annoying. Stevie went in for a while afterward and even Dillon.

  “Marley’s asking for you,” Dillon said.

  I shook out my palm for another go-round. Dillon did the same and we gave each other a high-five, like baseball players in a batting rotation.

  Rick burst through the door as Marley started pushing. His hair was disheveled beyond repair and his eyes blazed with worry as they zeroed in on his wife.

  “I’ll go,” I said. The doctors and nurses all looked too busy to notice there were two of us. Rick took her hand.

  “I’m sorry, baby.”

  “It’s okay, you…shit,” she screamed, her face stretched in pain.

  I wiped her face with a damp cloth. “Stay, Billie,” she whispered.

  I looked to Rick for confirmation. He nodded. “Stay.”

  “I think something’s wrong,” Marley said.

  “Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart.”

  But the doctor confirmed that Marley was right on this. Never underestimate a mother’s intuition.

  “Marley, you need to stop pushing,” the doctor said, his voice calm yet assertive.

  “I can’t do that.”

  Three things happened at once. Marley turned to me with an expression of fear. Rick walked toward the doctor. I gripped her hand tighter.

  Rick looked at me, a flicker of something in his face that spoke volumes. I watched helpless as his normal composed expression faded away replaced by cold panic.

  He came back to her side, reaching for her other hand. He brushed her hair back tenderly. “Sweetheart, listen to me. You have to stop pushing. The baby’s caught in the umbilical cord.”

  She shrieked. He soothed. I tried not to cry.

  “No, this can’t be happening.”

  “Look at me,” he said. “You know one C-word that you remind me of?”

  Was he really going to strike up a sexual conversation right now? Marley looked as confused as me.

  “Courageous, because that’s what you are. You’re strong, baby, and I wish to God I could take some of this from you, but I know you don’t need me to. I know you can do it on your own.”

  “I have to push, Rick. I can’t do this…”

  “Hey, hey… Wanna hear a funny story?” Her mouth gaped, but he continued on, distracting her from doing what was natural. “I was telling my client about how we’re pregnant and how nervous I was. He said not to worry. His wife’s labor was so quick, they didn’t even make it out their driveway. She kept yelling for him to call nine-one-one. And this guy—this corporate CEO—completely froze. He actually asked her what the number was for nine-one-one.”

  Marley laughed harder than the joke required. We all did.

  “Marley, you have to stop laughing because you’re pushing,” the doctor said, although his voice was less tense too. “We’re almost there. In all my years as a doctor, I’ve never had to tell a patient to stop laughing in the delivery room before.”

  We all got quiet. Rick whispered in a low voice, telling Marley how proud he was of her, how much he loved her and how she was his hero. He kissed all the fingers on her hand. Lucky guy, she wasn’t crushing his like she was mine. In that short time, I managed to say a prayer to every god I knew and even the ones I didn’t.

  “One more strong push, Marley,” the doctor ordered. She delivered both literally and figuratively.

  Then the most beautiful sound happened—a tiny but strong cry. Okay, so it was more like a wail, bursting forth from a small body which seemed too fragile to create it.

  “It’s a girl!”

  * * * *

  We all gathered around the hospital room. Rick sat with Marley on the bed cradling the baby—our newest family member, dressed in a delicate soft pink blanket.

  “We named her Isabella after my mother,” Rick said. “Sorry, Emmie, we deviated from your tradition.”

  Mom smiled, wiping a tear. “It’s perfect. She’s perfect.”

  Rick nodded. “She is. Let me make the introductions. Family, allow me to introduce Isabella Ann Mason Randy. Bella, this is your family. You’re a very lucky girl because you’re not just going to be loved by every one of them. You’re going to be cherished.” He took the baby from Marley, handing her to Stevie first.

  “Careful,” he warned.

  “I know how to hold a baby, Rick,” Stevie said, but her voice quivered.

  “Of course you do, Stevie. I just meant be careful of her, not with her. She has her mother’s strength, after all.”

  We all laughed. She had hair so gold, it looked like fine threads woven together. She would have natural highlights like Marley. She had the largest blue eyes I’d ever seen. I wondered if they’d turn green like her daddy’s. Her lashes were long. Her skin was flawless and soft. Her tiny hands curled into fists and she held them up as if ready to take on any fight. Don’t worry, baby girl. We all got your back.

  Stevie kissed her head. “I’m going to buy you your first pair of designer shoes. Don’t ask your mom for help. She’ll have you in combat boots. And then one day, when you’re old enough, I’ll lend you my magic shoes.”

  “A very long time from now,” Marley said.

  Mom sang Three Little Birds to Bella, her eyes tearing up. Welcome to our family. “Hi baby, I’m your grandma and trust me, in this family, you’re going to have music in your life and more importantly in your heart. You’re such a beauty. I can’t wait to teach you how to cook.”

  Marley groaned. I could read her thoughts. Be prepared for soy and seitan, baby girl.

  Dillon took a deep breath, smelling her fresh scent, the fragrance of fresh and innocent that only lingered when the world was new to us. “When you grow some more hair, I’ll show you how to style it. Don’t go to a hack like Christoff. Come to your Uncle Dillon.”

  Finally, it was my turn. I looked upon the little one, so precious and full of life.

  “Hey, pretty girl, I’m your cool Aunt Billie—the one who’ll take you to the library and help you write your letters to Santa.”

  I looked at Marley, my sister. My hero. She mouthed the words thank you to me, but I shook them away and responded with I love you.

  Damien, Dillon and
I volunteered to get the overnight bag we’d left in haste back at the house. It was hard to believe I’d been at the hospital for eight hours.

  “I’m starving. Let’s stop and get food,” Dillon said.

  My stomach groaned in agreement, but before I could respond, I heard a voice that sent a shiver down my spine. It came from the receptionist’s desk.

  “Check again…please.”

  “Sir, there is no one named Billie Price registered here.”

  He sighed in frustration, running his hands through his hair. “Ma’am, I really need you to check again.”

  “I’ve checked three times.”

  “Check again,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Is that Evan?” Damien asked. I could understand the question. He’d lost weight and he was pale.

  I approached him with slow steps. His head tilted in my direction. He exhaled a long breath.

  “Billie, thank God, I was so worried,” he said, rubbing my arms. He blinked rapidly as if he was checking to make sure I really stood in front of him.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I went to your house. I waited there for hours. Your neighbor told me you were taken to the hospital.”

  I realized what had happened. “She gets Marley and me confused. We took Marley to the hospital. She had a baby girl.”

  He smiled. “Congratulations.”

  I didn’t smile back. I tried to move out his grasp but he embraced me. “You have no idea how scared I was, wondering if you were all right.”

  Every emotion…despair, regret, sympathy and heartache, washed over with a sudden flood of anger.

  “I think I have a very good idea, Evan.” I pushed him away from me.

  “Billie—”

  I slapped him.

  “Billie!” Damien said, grabbing my wrist.

  “It’s okay, Damien,” Evan replied, his eyes staying on mine. “Can you guys please give us a minute?”

  They looked at me for confirmation, or maybe to check that I was stable enough to be alone with Evan. At first, I didn’t think they were going to leave. “Go on without me,” I told them.

  In my peripheral vision I saw them head toward the exit, but they didn’t walk out of the building. I think they were scared I’d do something to really hurt Evan. I might have. The hospital had a wall of windows. A light snowfall surrounded us, making it look like we were in our very own snow globe.