Cliché

by Ryleigh Sloan

  “Please come out with us? I want to go see that weird lion-fishy thing and I don’t want to do it without you.” Ian was pretty close to whining.

  “It’s called the Merlion,” I stated through a mouth full of food and then munched on another bite. This time Ian barely winced.

  “See, I don’t even know what it’s called. I need you. You’ve been here for nearly three months and the only thing you’ve seen is the inside of the office and your hotel.”

  “That’s not true, I went to see The Merchant of Venice last week.”

  “And you were bored to tears. C’mon, Claire, I’m begging you. Anthony is starting to believe I’m having an affair and worse he thinks it’s with you. My boyfriend thinks I’m turning bi. If he sees us together,” he eyed my snack and pulled up his nose, “especially if you insist on eating any of the crazy shit you’ve been eating over the last few months, he’ll relax.”

  I rolled my eyes and stifled a smile behind an even bigger bite of anchovy-spread pizza. He removed a pen from my stationery holder and started clicking the back of the pen repetitively, knowing full well I couldn’t stand the sound. In the time I’d spent in Singapore, we’d become fast friends. Adam had brought him over from his team in South Africa. He was brutally honest, held back no punches, gave of himself with everything he had, worked like a machine when we were racing the clock (which was constantly), and refused to allow me to wallow in self-pity on the days when I’d inadvertently stumbled across something Kevin and Hayley related while at the same time never prying.

  “Ian, if you don’t stop clicking that pen I’m going to impale you with it.”

  He clicked it even faster now, taunting me. “I’ll stop if you say you’ll come with.”

  “You should go, Claire.” We both looked up to see Adam walk into my office. “Prison is hard on pregnant women.”

  Ian placed the pen on the desk and slowly pushed it as far away from himself as he could.

  “In all seriousness, both you and Ian have been working rather long hours and deserve a break. I actually came in to tell you that head office approved the final mock-ups, so we’re pretty much good to go.” Adam’s smile was a combination of pride and relief.

  “But—”

  “But nothing. As your boss I’m ordering you to go have fun.” He reached into his slacks and removed his wallet. Offering me his credit card, he continued. “This one’s on me. You deserve it.”

  I shook my head. “I couldn’t.”

  Ian stood and snatched the credit card. “I can.” He held out his hand for mine. “We’re gonna have a blast.”

  I looked at Adam. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely positive.”

  “You don’t want to join us?”

  “Thank you, but no. I have a date with a beautiful woman.” He looked at his watch. “And if I’m late Kim won’t be charmed. Please go have a good time, Claire. It will make me feel better for overworking you both. Ian, make sure Anthony goes along.”

  “Thanks, Adam.”

  Adam nodded and stepped out my office. Ian raised the card above his head, his impish smile contagious. “Singapore, baby. Let’s do this!”

  And we did.

  And it was amazing!

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I settled back into the theatre seat, excited about getting to watch the new Baywatch movie. I deserved some man candy, thank you very much, and Dwayne Johnson and Zac Efron were the epitome of man candy. Although if the poster was any indication, Zac could stand to ease off the protein shakes a little. He had muscles on top of muscles and not in the good way.

  I’d been back in South Africa for a couple of months after a gruelling but awesome time in Singapore, and with trying to get myself back in the swing of things at Addington Air and catching up with family, I hadn’t had a moment to myself. I was exhausted and somehow being back home made me miss Kevin even more. Cutting Kevin out of my life was my greatest regret and I missed him so much I couldn’t breathe sometimes, but I’d made my bed and I was going to have to lie in it. It wouldn’t be right to reach out to him now. Not after all this time. He’d probably moved on with his life and I had to be respectful of that. A waitress came by to ask me what I wanted to eat and I placed my order, happy to have my wallow interrupted. Focusing on more positive thoughts, I relished in the reclining seats of the premier theatre and the cool air of the air-conditioning. I swear the temperatures outside felt volcanic and I was so sick of walking around with sweat dripping everywhere.

  Kim had returned to South Africa with me, leaving Adam in Singapore for a further two months to tie up loose ends. She filled her time giving me snippets of information on a daily basis about how a woman’s body changed during pregnancy. One such snippet of information was that a pregnant woman’s body temperature was always a degree higher than the average person’s. Right now, I felt like I was running at a hundred degrees. The waitress came back with my popcorn, Whispers, and slush puppy, and I thanked her before taking a giant slurp of the icy drink.

  Dwayne Johnson was just taking his morning jog along the beach and I was inwardly sighing at how his legs looked in those lifeguard shorts of his when a rush of warm fluid ran down my legs.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered to myself as I placed my half-eaten popcorn on top of the mini table attached to my chair. Yes, I was one of those people who just about finished their popcorn before the movie. The room erupted with laughter and at first I assumed everyone in there with me knew what happened, but then something onscreen caught my attention and I realised some poor guy in the movie had his balls stuck in a chair and that was the reason for the laughter and not my current predicament.

  I should have known Kim’s son would arrive on time. (Adam had been over the moon to learn they were having a boy at the sixteen-week sonogram.) Dr. Baker had assured me that first time babies mostly arrived “late” and that I could expect him around the forty to forty-two-week mark but my nephew was ready to make his appearance at thirty-eight weeks to the day.

  I was just contemplating whether I had enough time to finish watching the movie (after all, people do all sorts of shit when they go into labour, right?) but then a contraction hit me. And it wasn’t anything at all like the woman at the antenatal class described. There was no such thing as gentle easing into things. The first contraction body-slammed me and I hissed out a breath. A few seconds passed and the feeling subsided, I realised it would be a good time to message Kim and let her know to a) come for me and b) get someone to get my bag from the house.

  I stayed in the dark theatre until Kim sent me a message to say that she’d arrived—I imagine she’d have a speeding ticket or two to settle after this—and I started making my way outside. A few patrons and staff milling about the concession stands gave me worried looks as I waddled open-legged through the movie house so my soggy dress wouldn’t slap me on the legs. (White was certainly not the most inconspicuous colour to be wearing when your water broke).

  Kim ran in the entrance and grabbed my arm like I was an invalid. I didn’t stop her, I just wanted to get in the car away from prying eyes and before another contraction hit. As we reached the car, I hesitated.

  “Get in. What’s wrong?” Kim’s concerned look turned impatient.

  I looked down at her seats. “I’m going to mess up the seats. Don’t you have anything to put down?”

  Kim practically shoved me into the car. “Don’t worry about that. Get in.”

  Any argument vanished from my lips as the next contraction hit. Strangely, this one wasn’t as strong as the first one, but all the same, I wasn’t sticking around to contemplate that. I got my butt in the car.

  * * *

  “Here comes another one.” Kim’s statement was moot since I was the one actually having the contractions and could already feel my belly tighten and the wave of pain. I bit down on my lip and rode the wave that seemed to build and build with no promise of respite. Kim wiped at my sweaty brow with a cool
cloth and I couldn’t decide if I wanted to kiss her “thank you” or rip out Adam’s throat and see if he could, “breathe through the pain”. The cramp eased and I felt guilty for my thoughts, the poor guy was only trying to help. I was doing this all meds-free. Not by choice, mind you, I’d joked to Alison that my birth plan was for the anaesthetist to meet me in the parking lot with the epidural in hand. In all honesty, if that was an option I would have gone with it—I was no martyr—but apparently the anaesthetist on call was assisting in the delivery room and hadn’t managed to pop past my room yet.

  A nurse came into the room and before she reached the bed, I already had my legs open in anticipation of her probing. Adam turned and faced the corner, his nose practically touching the pale blue paint of the wall and I had to stifle the urge to giggle. Adam had been prepared to wait outside the waiting room for his son to be born, but I’d offered to have him inside so long as he didn’t look anywhere near my lady bits. The fact that nearly everyone in the hospital had either measured me or looked at me was beside the point. I was not sitting opposite Adam at Sunday lunches with the knowledge that he’d seen my parts. No damn way.

  After performing her exam, the nurse glanced at the heart rate monitor. “I’m going to get the doctor, you’re not dilating enough.” The nurse turned to walk out of the room, her shoe covers shuffling on the linoleum floors.

  I put my legs down and tugged the gown over my knees. “Wh…What does that mean?” I said, still breathless from my contraction.

  She turned to face me with a practiced smile. I swear some nurses took a class during their senior year on how to smile with just the right amount of sympathy and condescension. This one clearly got an A. Okay, maybe I was being less than generous, but I feel like if you’re going to have your fingers up me every fifteen minutes the least you can do is be straight with me. “Let’s just see what the doctor has to say, okay?”

  Kim and Adam exchanged nervous glances before both plastering on fake smiles worthy of a Miss America pageant. Another contraction hit and Kim applied a refreshed cloth to my forehead and Adam repeated his words of encouragement like a mantra while looking a little green.

  Dr. Baker appeared with the nurse who’d left to call him and he took a quick look at the machine monitoring my nephew’s heart rate, then briskly performed another pelvic exam. Placing the sheet over my legs, he didn’t say a word, just kept glancing at the monitor then my bump while tapping his crooked finger against the bed.

  “Claire, your labour isn’t progressing and the baby’s heart rate is slowing down—” Seeing the looks of panic on all three of our faces he quickly added, “I don’t want you to panic, we’re going to take you in for an emergency C-section, okay? Within the hour, you’ll be meeting this little guy.” He gave my belly a rub and us all an encouraging smile that the nurse standing at the foot of my bed should try emulating a time or two.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Walsh, would you like to come with me? You need to change into scrubs. Claire, Susan will bring you to the operating room.” He gave my ankle a reassuring squeeze and then I was alone. Susan had gone to get someone to assist with taking me to the OR. Lying there, alone in the room, I should have been comforted with the fact that Dr. Baker didn’t seem at all harried by the change of events but I couldn’t help feeling like something more should be happening. Where were the doctors and nurses crowding the bed, shouting out medical terminology with dramatic urgency? (Perhaps I’d watched too many episodes of Grey’s Anatomy in the last while.)

  Susan entered the room with an orderly, his brown-green eyes twinkling in his cappuccino face, putting me slightly at ease. “I bet you’ll be glad to have this over with.”

  I tried to smile back but another contraction hit and the orderly turned to face the machine. “Wowzer, that’s a big one. Let’s get you to the OR, the sooner you get the block, the sooner you’ll be pain free.” I appreciated the fact that he didn’t add, “for now.” Susan grabbed the monitor and the orderly started pulling the bed out of the labour room towards the elevator leading to the OR. As we were about to enter, my parents and Gran stepped out of the adjacent car.

  “Claire, where are you going?” Gran’s concerned face stopping the orderly in his tracks and bringing tears to my eyes.

  “I have to have an emergency C-section. His heart rate is slowing.” Fear clogged my throat and I barely got the words out as I rubbed my belly. What if…

  I couldn’t see my parents’ expressions from behind me but did see my dad’s arm wrap around my mother’s shoulders. I watched a myriad of expressions cross my gran’s features and then she grinned at me.

  “Oh, well, look on the bright side, your lady bits will still be intact. No stretched out va—”

  “Mom!” I could only imagine the horrified look on my dad’s face. A small laugh escaped me and my gran winked and leaned down to kiss my cheek. I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed tight.

  The orderly nudged the bed forward slightly, hinting that we had to get going. My parents wished me well and assured me that they’d be waiting when I got out, and then I was in the elevator, the doors closing, shutting out the momentary calm my gran had instilled.

  I was wheeled into the OR. The residual smell of anaesthesia hung in the air, bringing with it a reminder of the stakes we were facing. My bed was placed next to the narrow operating table and the orderly helped me scoot over, not an easy task with my big belly getting in the way. I looked down at the round ball and rubbed at my bump with affection. As exhausting and uncomfortable as the last few weeks were, I was going to miss the little womb-jacker rolling around in my belly. And by rolling, I wasn’t exaggerating. All the baby books said I could expect less movement as the baby grew and space became limited, but this little guy had no qualms with rearranging my organs to secure all the space he needed to kick, punch, and somersault his way through the day (and most nights). Believe it or not, I was even going to miss when he lodged his foot under my ribcage, rendering me motionless and breathless until the little prince decided to change positions.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and focused on why I was doing this. This wasn’t the end, it was the beginning. I wasn’t going to lose anything. I was gaining a nephew who I could love and adore without the angst of being solely responsible for every single need he required. I’d get to spoil him without worrying about what type of person he would grow up to be. I’d get to feed him sugar and hype him up without worrying about the sleepless nights and I’d get to love him with everything that I had, unconditionally and completely. That was enough. It was more than enough, it was a gift. With a final rub, I lay on my back.

  The anaesthetist walked over to the bed, his scrub cap sitting all askew on his head and his eyes the colour of washed out denim twinkling behind his mask. I instantly liked him.

  “Miss Addington, I’m Dr. Wesley but you can call me Graeme. We’re going to give you a spinal-epidural, this is going to numb you from the waist down. I’ll be right at the head of your bed if you need anything at all. How are you doing?”

  Well that was a loaded question. I was about to get a needle in my spine that was going to paralyze me from the waist down. But despite my pounding heart, which he could see on the monitor, I smiled. “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “Good, then let’s get started. I need you to turn onto your side and curl into a tight ball. I want you to bend in as far as you can go, okay?”

  I nodded and did what I was told, curling myself around my belly. My liver felt like it was sitting under my throat most days, but now I felt like if I coughed I was going to lose an organ. Dr. Wesley—despite his offer for me to call him Graeme, I couldn’t quite wrap my head around being so casual with the man about to stick a needle in my spine—was untying the straps of the gown when Kim and Adam walked in. I recognised them by their shoes peeking through the shoe covers. Kim got onto her haunches and held my hand, looking at me with a mix of nerves and excitement on her face.

  “I’m going to rub i
odine on your skin now, Claire. Sorry about the cold.” The doctor’s calm voice did nothing to settle my nerves.

  I felt the liquid meet my skin, cool strokes over and over as the doctor disinfected the area. He must have swabbed over my spine over twenty times and each time I felt myself grow more apprehensive. A contraction gripped me, it had been a while since the last one and I feared that meant something serious was wrong. I wanted this over with, I wanted my nephew out and safe and in his mother’s arms. I offered up a silent prayer, feeling guilty that I was only praying when I needed something. The pain eased again and Dr. Wesley placed a hand on my shoulder.

  “Claire, I’m going to need you to curl in a little more for me and keep dead still. You’re going to feel a sharp prick and then a burn but I promise you it will be all over soon.”

  My fingers clamped down on Kim’s and she had the good grace not to wince as I tightened my grip when the needle entered my spine. A sharp pain shot down my leg like an electric current and then it was over. I released the grip on Kim’s hand when they rolled me onto my back, relieved that the worst part was over. It wasn’t even as painful as I expected. I guess it was more the idea of what was going on.

  Adam swayed a bit on his legs and I shot him a look. “I swear to God, Adam, if you pass out and steal my thunder I’m going to be so pissed.” The room erupted in laughter and even Adam chuckled a little. I laughed along with everyone and then Dr. Baker stepped up to the table.

  It was Kim’s turn to squeeze my hand and Adam distracted himself by taking pics.

  Dr. Wesley tucked a stray hair under the silly pale blue net-like thing that was over my head making me look like a school lunch lady and asked me questions so random I wondered at the man’s sanity.