Model Boyfriend

by Stuart Reardon

  It was a short drive to hospital, so they were checked in a little early. Anna was ushered into a small room and reminded that she had to remove all her jewellery. Reluctantly, she removed her engagement ring and gave it to Nick for safe keeping. She hated taking it off.

  “Don’t worry,” said Nick, seeming to read her mind. “You’ll get it back in a few hours.”

  Arriving early was supposed to give Anna time to relax in her room, but she just became more and more nervous.

  “It’s going to be fine, babe,” he said soothingly and risking getting his head bitten off again. “The doctors have done this a million times before.”

  “Yeah, well, I haven’t!” she snorted. “God, I’m sorry. I’m just anxious that’s all. The twins are, too. I can feel them.”

  She rubbed her enormous belly tentatively.

  Both Nick and Anna changed into the ugly theatre gowns and hats. At least Nick got to wear pants and little booties with his outfit—Anna was naked under the paper thin robe.

  He held Anna’s hand as the doctor came in to explain the procedure, reminding them it was all routine, and that they were next on the list.

  Anna gulped and squeezed Nick’s hand with a vice-like grip.

  “I’ll be here the whole time. Don’t worry, you’re going to do fine.”

  The team of nurses came for her and she smiled bravely at Nick as he winked and followed her into the operating room.

  “Hello again, Anna,” said the midwife. “Hop up on here.”

  “I can’t hop much—it’s more like hauling a bag of dough. A really heavy bag.”

  The midwife smiled.

  “Well, not for much longer. Hello, Nick.”

  He smiled, standing out of the way, but feeling his heartrate kick up.

  “The operating table is tilted slightly sideways,” said the midwife. “That’s so the weight of your womb doesn’t press on anything that sends blood to your lungs. Now, we’ll just check that you’re not anaemic…”

  There were several last minute checks, and Anna’s anxiety began to climb. She squeezed Nick’s hand nervously.

  “You’re going to be fine,” he said soothingly, love shining in his eyes. “We’ll be meeting our girls soon.”

  “Ruby and Beth,” she breathed.

  “Yep, and they’ll be beautiful, just like their mum.”

  Anna didn’t feel very beautiful as she was given her epidural and a catheter was inserted into her bladder.

  Then, while Nick looked the other way, she was cleaned with antiseptic and shaved.

  Nick leaned down and murmured in her ear.

  “I’ve always wanted to see you with a Brazilian.”

  She snorted and laughed.

  “I don’t think they’ve done that. Although, I’m not sure. I can’t feel anything down there.”

  A cuff was placed on her arm to monitor her blood pressure, and electrodes were stuck on her chest to check her heartrate. Nick was glad they hadn’t done that for him—his heart was racing, although looking at him, you’d never know it.

  Finally, a screen was erected across Anna’s chest so neither of them could see the operation.

  “You can ask for this to be lowered as the babies are born,” the midwife said reassuringly.

  The anaesthetist nodded, and the surgeon peered over her glasses at Anna.

  “I’m going to start now,” she said clearly. “You’ll hear some slurping sounds as the amniotic fluid is suctioned out, and you might feel some pressure and tugging on your belly when we bring out your babies.”

  Anna smiled bravely, not taking her eyes off Nick.

  He squeezed her hand as the surgeon began.

  He watched her eyes but he could see that the epidural was working and she was feeling no pain.

  “I’m taking the lower baby first,” the surgeon said quietly.

  Nick kept his eyes on Anna. She blinked rapidly, her forehead creasing.

  “You’re doing great,” he whispered. “You’re doing great.”

  Nick thought he’d be anxious, but now it was finally happening, he was more excited than anything else. And besides there was oxygen in the room if he needed it.

  Part of his mind was in the moment with Anna, almost feeling what she felt, but another part of him was trying to get his head around the idea that soon, very soon, he’d be a father, someone’s dad. Two tiny babies—that was a massive responsibility. Two tiny beings to protect, to look after, to watch grow. He was excited for every minute of that.

  Anna squeezed his hand tightly as if asking what he was thinking.

  And then, miracle number one was born, and a tiny, purple baby with a squashed, screwed up face was wrapped in a blanket and placed into Nick’s arms. He bent down and showed the little girl to Anna, and she reached up a trembling finger to the baby’s silky cheek, almost afraid to touch her.

  “Oh my God!” she cried, as tears trickled down her face. “Oh my God! Hello, Ruby,” she whispered. “Oh, Nick! She’s perfect! She has your eyes!”

  Nick nodded, his chest crushed with the love for this small being.

  “Hello, Ruby. Daddy’s here. Welcome to my team.”

  Anna giggled, hearing Nick’s baby-voice for the first time.

  Ruby mewed like a cat as he cupped her tiny body against his chest. Then a smiling nurse

  wrapped the tiny baby in a special blanket as Anna whimpered.

  “Where are you taking her?”

  “She needs warmth now,” said the midwife kindly, “and I need to do her Agpar score. C-section babies are always a little colder. She’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

  Nick felt as though he’d be worried for the next 18 years—probably for the rest of his life.

  Suddenly, a fast bleep of alarm sounded and all the medical staff started to hustle. Nick was pushed out of the way.

  “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

  But his words were lost in a rush of jargon.

  “Nick!”

  Anna’s voice was filled with fear. Nick squeezed her shoulder, giving her his strength.

  “It’ll be okay.”

  His words were soothing, but his throat was tightening with the same fear.

  Something was wrong.

  The monitors screamed until the surgeon yelled for them to be turned down as she frowned and scowled, and Anna felt a strange tugging sensation in her belly.

  An oxygen mask was placed over her mouth, and she breathed deeply, but her frightened eyes were glued to Nick.

  Nick felt his body start to panic, but he needed to hold it together for Anna.

  What’s happening? What’s going on?

  And the surgeon spoke, her voice relaxing.

  “There she is!” she said. “Oh, my apologies, little one. It seems we have a boy.”

  “What?”

  Nick and Anna spoke together, but the doctor hadn’t lied. A tiny baby boy with a scrunched up face was place in Nick’s arms.

  “Oh!” Anna gasped.

  Nick stared down at the child, thinking that he had Anna’s nose and chin—and he definitely had a tiny, miniature penis.

  A son. I have a daughter and a son. This is perfect. My babies are perfect. How did I get to be so lucky?

  “I can’t call you ‘Beth’, little man,” he said, thinking of the names that he and Anna had picked out months ago. He smiled down at Anna. “What do you think about calling him Phoenix?”

  She laughed and smiled and cried.

  “I think that would be perfect!”

  Little Phoenix was taken away for his own tests, but the midwife assured them that everything was fine.

  Anna had the placenta removed and then got her stitches before she was cleaned up and taken to recovery. When she was finally allowed back to her room, she found Nick and Susie holding the babies, their twins.

  Susie was as shocked as they’d been when she found that she had a granddaughter and a grandson when she’d been expecting two girls.

  “You
were right about the gender-neutral clothes,” she smiled at her exhausted daughter. “You did good, honey.”

  Anna drifted off to sleep as Nick stared with wonder at the little humans he’d helped create.

  His parents had planned to come but had been prevented by a bout of flu. They coughed and spluttered their happiness when he called them, and Trisha promised to visit soon.

  Nick was mesmerized by the twin’s little fingers and tiny toes, counting every perfect eyelash fanning round cheeks. Love, a tidal wave of love washed over him. It was terrifying but wonderful, too, but when tears trickled down his cheeks, Susie just smiled to herself.

  Ruby and Phoenix—two little miracles born of the complicated lives and simple, easy love of Nick and Anna.

  After everything they’d been through, after the long road they’d travelled, finally, he’d found peace. He felt blessed. And Captain of a new team.

  THREE DAYS AFTER leaving hospital, Anna and Nick were at home with their new family. The doorbell rang for the fifth time that morning. Nick opened the front door and Anna heard a short conversation before he returned with an enormous bunch of colourful flowers, so vast that Nick was completely hidden behind them.

  “My! That is a darn big bunch of flowers! Who are they from?”

  Nick searched through the foliage and finally located a small card clipped to the outer packaging.

  “It says, ‘Congrats. Molly’.”

  Anna looked up at Nick, surprise and confusion on her face.

  “Really? You think they’re really from her.”

  Nick nodded. He’d omitted the fact that the card also said, ‘To Nicky and Anne’.

  “Yeah, they’re from her. Molly doesn’t do discreet.”

  Silence.

  “I guess not.” Anna hesitated, wondering how to frame her question. “Do you think it’s over now? Her vendetta?”

  Nick lifted one shoulder.

  “Hard to say for sure, but yeah, I do.”

  Anna gave a small smile.

  “They’re nice flowers.”

  Nick pulled a face.

  “Okay, they’re ostentatious and kind of ugly, but it was a nice gesture.”

  Nick nodded.

  “I feel kind of sorry for her,” Anna went on. “I have everything she ever wanted: babies, a TV career, a writing career…” she smiled at Nick. “And I have you.” She paused. “Okay, maybe not everything—I don’t have her Double-Ds, although since Ruby and Phoenix have arrived my boobs are enormous even if they feel more like udders.”

  Nick winced.

  “But yes, I have what she wants and she seems so … bitter.”

  Nick shook his head.

  “Molly always wanted more: bigger house, better car, bigger tits, designer clothes. But it didn’t make her happy, not really. Because she was competing with an idea that wasn’t real.”

  “That’s very philosophical of you. Very Zen.”

  “Ha, maybe. But even if we’d stayed together, she wouldn’t be happy. She’d want Kim Kardashian’s money and her arse, and I still think she’d be envious of everyone who had more than she did. You’re right—she’s not happy—but it’s nothing to do with me. She’s nothing to do with me, or you, or us: not anymore.”

  Anna smiled down at the sleeping twins and at the beautiful man whose love had helped her bring them into the world.

  Yes, she had everything she wanted, and she knew how incredibly lucky that made her.

  AGAINST ALL THE odds, the Cuirassiers had made it to the final. The team that was in danger of being relegated at the beginning of the season had dominated their last 13 games of the year, storming to tremendous victories.

  They were in the top half of the league table, but their dominant performance had led to this moment.

  Nick wiped sweat from his eyes as it trickled through his hair, matting it to his scalp, and his shirt was stuck to his chest. He squinted up at the relentless blue sky, the late May sun burning down on the back of his neck.

  The fans were fully behind the Cuirassiers at last, and the old stadium was full to bursting point.

  The fans were going wild, very vocal, singing the Carcassonne team song, the sound echoing around the stadium. The opposing fans duelled with them, yelling out their own song, the notes clashing together tunelessly.

  Nick was in the moment, feeling the crowd, feeling the energy. As his last game, he wanted to show it all on the field. He’d had a great game up to this point and knew it was the best season the club had had in twenty years. His club, his team.

  Seventy minutes into the game, both teams were running low on energy—now, it was about who wanted it most.

  Commentator 1:

  It’s a been a rough, tough bruising encounter today between Carcassonne and Limoux. There’s just ten minutes left to play and Carcassonne are really taking charge of this game. Captain Nick Renshaw and Winger Grégoire Dupont have been dominating figures, and have contributed to the impressive rise to success that Carcassonne are having this season—definitely a favourite to win today.

  Commentator 2:

  Yes, Louis. It seems incredible that this is the same team that was staring at relegation at the beginning of the season, with loss after loss. All credit to the Captain for pulling the team around. But let’s get back to the action.

  Commentator 1:

  I couldn’t agree more, Marcel. The ball goes wide to Laurent Le Clerc. He side-steps one, hands off another … he breaks with just the Fullback to beat. Grégoire Dupont is supporting. Laurent dummys the ball and gets tackled by the Fullback. Ouf! Grégoire doesn’t look too happy about it—Laurent missed a great opportunity to pass the ball. The opposing fans are cheering. As play goes on, they’re both having words. What a game this is shaping up to be!

  Nick raced over, stepping between Laurent and Grégoire, pushing them apart.

  “Pack it in, you two! We still have the ball. Let’s go!”

  Nick tried to get his head back in the game, but having to keep one eye on these two idiots was wearing—they were always at each other throats. Usually, Laurent started it, and today was no exception. He should have passed the ball, everyone knew it.

  Commentator 1

  This is the last five minutes of the game—the teams are locked in at twelve-all! It could go either way. It’s the last tackle. Limoux are on the attack. They hoist a huge kick out wide, and the Limoux players are chasing hard, but Renshaw out jumps them! He catches the ball clean and is on the ground. He breaks one tackle, hands-off Grimaldi. He looks tired. His legs are heavy. But look at that concentration in his face! He wants this! He’s earned this! The crowd are on their feet! They’re chanting his nickname, La Flèche, La Flèche! The arrow!

  Commentator 2

  Yes, he looks tired now, but he knows he has to keep going! He’s going down the wing, it’s a foot race between La Flèche and the Limoux’s Winger and Fullback. They look like they’re going to catch him but former Captain and assistant coach Bernard Dubois is in support. He’s open, he’s calling to his teammate. Renshaw whips a long pass across to Bernard. He catches the pass, runs along to the sticks with one hand in the air! He dives! He scores!

  Commentator 1

  The stadium has erupted! The fans are on their feet! Monsieur Le Referee is looking at his watch, he lifts his whistle! It’s all over! Carcassonne win! Who would have predicted that just six months ago! What an achievement! What a story! One for the record books.

  Nick laughed with relief, clapping and cheering as Bernard was lifted onto Russ and Grégoire’s shoulders, carried around the stadium, the conquering hero.

  As Nick stared upward at the streamers falling onto the field, the drums, the trumpets, the singing, the fans, he smiled. The French sure knew how to celebrate a championship winning team.

  A group of fans invaded the pitch, hugging the players, crying and singing and cheering. It was utter, beautiful mayhem.

  Bernard hugged Nick tightly, thanking him over and over for comi
ng to France and helping him turn the team around. Nick hugged him back, understanding Bernard’s mixed emotions as the two men celebrated their last ever game together, their last ever game as professional athletes, their last playing for this team or any team.

  But this time, Nick wasn’t sad. He was glad it was all over. His body was tired and he could feel the heavy weight of exhaustion in his legs. His shoulder ached and his Achilles tendon had never been the same. His body wasn’t as fast, his explosive pace was more limited. He’d never feared injury when he was younger. But despite all of this, his heart was light and he saw a new and different future before him—a father and a husband, his new team.

  It had been a magical season and he was proud of what he’d achieved. But for him, the magic had gone, the passion wasn’t burning inside him anymore. It was a strange feeling.

  The players started throwing their shirts into the crowd, a tradition at Carcassonne for the last home-game of the season.

  Nick gave his shirt to a youngster who attended every game, week in, week out, rain or shine, a future Carcassonne player in the making for sure.

  “Je vous remercie!” said the kid, overawed that the English Captain had given him the prized shirt.

  “No worries, little man,” said Nick.

  Nick glanced over and saw Grégoire giving his shirt to Brendan. Then he bent over and whipped off his shorts, too, handing them over to his red-faced boyfriend who seemed lost for words.

  Nick paused, and looked again. He’d never known Brendan not to have a sassy comeback, but his smile lit up the Stand.

  Just then, Grégoire dropped to one knee.

  “No way!” Nick whispered to himself, watching the action across the field.

  But yes, Grégoire was asking Brendan to marry him right there on the side of the field.

  The crowd and Grégoire’s teammates were watching with excitement. Brendan covered his mouth with his hand, and paused as if he was in shock.

  Then Nick saw him throw both hands up in the air and let out a huge shriek.

  “Yes! YES! YES! Yes, I’ll marry you!”