Getting Rough

by C. L. Parker

  Cassidy tugged at my arm. “Can you see anything? What’s happening?”

  God, please don’t ask me to peek over the blue drape. I don’t think my stomach could take it.

  “Aren’t you, like, supposed to be knocked out or something? Why are you awake?”

  Not waiting for a reply, I repeated the question to the doctor beside me, the same one who had given Cassidy medicine through her IV earlier in her room. “Why is she awake?” My leg was doing an imitation of a Mexican jumping bean under the paper scrubs I was given back in the exam room. Armani it was not.

  I had since learned that said doctor was the anesthesiologist, and he would be making sure that Cassidy was comfortable during the C-section. Panic bubbled and fizzed inside my gut and I was suddenly unprepared for this moment. The constant beeping from machines coming from something that resembled a prop used on a Doctor Who episode wasn’t helping. And I had yet to figure out if I should be concerned with all those squiggly lines dancing across a monitor, spiking up and down in an erratic pattern.

  “She’s fine, Mr. Matthews. And she has an epidural for pain relief. She should be fairly comfortable throughout the procedure.”

  “Fairly?” First should be and now fairly. I had the sudden urge to ask everyone present in the room for their credentials. Starting with the anesthesiologist, aka Dr. Feel Good.

  “What the hell does that mean?” Cassidy asked as she tried her best to give Dr. Feel Good the stink eye. Which, admittedly, was kind of hard to do when you were strapped down to a table with your insides about to be brought out to play by the medical staff.

  Ugh, that visual is so not helping you, Matthews.

  “It means you might feel some tugging shortly, Mrs. Matthews, but that’s totally normal.”

  “Ms. Whalen,” Cassidy corrected him. “We’re not married.”

  “My apologies,” Dr. Feel Good said, with a cut glance in my direction, I might add. “What you shouldn’t feel is pain. If you do, let me know.”

  At that point, Cassidy winced and I leaned in closer, kissing her cheek. Sweat coated her face and neck, her copper hair damp. She looked what she would call a hot mess. But she was my hot mess, and she was about to give birth to my child.

  She had never looked more beautiful.

  “You okay?” I didn’t like the way Cassidy’s color seemed to drain from her face.

  “Yes… it’s just… a lot of pressure.” She managed a weak smile.

  Feeling helpless, I pushed her hair back and away from her face, stroking her scalp with the pads of my fingers, offering her some sort of comfort in the only way I knew how. My gaze never left hers and a single thought ran through my mind with utter clarity. This was where I belonged. I had found something essential, something invaluable, and it was mine. Ours. Cassidy and I had created a child; a tiny, living human made up of pieces of ourselves. A connection no one could take away or break. As overwhelming as that was, it also felt so fucking right.

  “Get ready to meet your little bundle of joy, folks.”

  Forgetting how much I didn’t want to see Cassidy’s insides, I rose from the stool and peered over the drape.

  Okay, let’s just say what was on the other side was not pretty. In fact, I forced my eyes away from things that needed to be unseen and zeroed in on what could only be described as a tiny alien covered in blood and body fluids. I felt a little green behind the gills until I spotted what looked like an impressive package dangling between the smallest legs I have ever seen.

  “Holy shit, it’s a boy! Look at the size of his cock…” I cleared my throat. “I mean, his penis.” Damn, but the little dude took after his dad.

  The surgeon quickly cut off my son’s dick, and before I could blink, he passed the baby off to someone standing near and holding out a blanket. “Whoa, Doc. I didn’t know you did the circumcision so soon. Did you have to cut off that much?” My poor son, minus part of his junk, was then whisked away to the corner of the room where a shitload of other people had gathered.

  “Um, no. That was the umbilical cord,” came the subdued reply from the doctor. “But you were right, Mr. Matthews. Congratulations, you have a son.”

  The most unbelievable wave of pure warmth and joy spread through every fiber of my being. A son. I had a son. The smile that bolted up my cheeks made my face instantly go numb.

  I had a son…

  But something was wrong. You could sense it with how quiet the room grew as the staff huddled around some sort of contraption where they had placed my little man. I couldn’t see anything. There were too many people. And my throat had shrunk down to the size of a grain of sand, allowing only a wheeze to escape as I stood frozen, unable to breathe.

  “What’s going on?” Cassidy sobbed, trying to lift her head. The anesthesiologist bent down and tried to console her. Something I should have been doing. But I knew if I turned to her – looked at her – I would lose it.

  “Shaw, why isn’t he crying?”

  God, please let everything be all right. Please cry, little man.

  I have never been a religious man. But in that moment, I prayed. Hard. I would have begged and bartered my own soul with the devil himself. Every second that passed without a sound from that corner felt like a thousand minutes. A million lifetimes.

  Muddled voices giving explanations I couldn’t comprehend bounced around my head. I was drowning. Again.

  “Shaw… stay with me.” The feminine, docile tone pulled at me, as I struggled to keep my head above water. Blindly, I reached out and felt Cassidy’s cold fingers grasp my own. Her touch grounded me and gave me the strength I needed.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the most wonderful earsplitting wail filled the operating room.

  I collapsed back on the stool like a stone and let loose a long, shaky breath. “He’s okay.” I squeezed her hand and tried to squelch the lingering fear under my skin. “I mean, he’s truly okay? Right?” I asked for confirmation from the doctor, who I couldn’t see behind the drape. My palm was sweaty but I refused to let Cassidy’s hand go.

  “Sounds like he has a strong set of lungs, Mr. Matthews. He just needed a minute to clear out his airway, and it didn’t help that the umbilical cord had been wrapped around his neck. That’s what was causing all the trouble in the labor room.”

  Really, I heard nothing past strong set of lungs. All the rest was gibberish; medical mumbo jumbo that meant nothing to me. The little bugger hadn’t stopped bawling, and a niggling of doubt resurfaced. “All that crying is good, right? He’s not in any pain, is he?”

  One of the nurses – hell, it was hard to tell with all the blue scrubs, masks, and awful head covers in the place – approached the bed. In her arms was a tiny blanket-wrapped bundle. She arranged the squirming wad of cotton on Cassidy’s chest. “Why don’t you take a look for yourself,” she murmured behind the mask.

  I lost the ability to move. I had no words.

  Peeking out from his warm cocoon, his pink face scrunched up in midcry, was the most amazing thing I had ever seen.

  When I remained frozen and didn’t respond, the nurse chuckled and placed my arm behind my son to help keep him in a protective hold before stepping away.

  “You have your legacy, Shaw. He’s beautiful.” Cassidy’s soft-spoken words had the effect of a battering ram, right in the solar plexus.

  Shaw Matthews, a rehabilitated selfish asshole extraordinaire, had a legacy. It was hard to tell which of us he looked like in his current state, but there was no denying he had his mommy’s ginger curls. A lot of it, too, which I’d been told would explain all the heartburn she’d had. And then he took a chance and slowly opened his eyes to take a glimpse at the world. Baby blue peepers. Just like his papa, who, incidentally, was the first sight he beheld.

  “No, he’s more than beautiful,” I told her, falling in love with the way he blinked his eyes. “He’s perfect.” My voice cracked, my face hurt from smiling nonstop, and my vision may have blurred a little wit
h unshed tears, but I was too damn happy to give a shit.

  I reached out and stroked his cheek with my thumb. Incredible. He was soft and warm. And when he turned his head toward my touch, his tiny mouth working in a sucking motion, I was a goner.

  “So?” Cassidy said around a dazzling, brilliant smile of her own. “Have you decided which name we’re going with?”

  We’d opted to wait until the birth of our baby to know the sex, but Cassidy had picked two names for each. Although I’d liked both of the names she’d come up with for a boy, I’d wanted to wait until I met him to decide. One look at him, and I knew.

  With a nod, I said my first words to our son. “Welcome to the world, Abe. It can be a cold, cruel bitch, but we’ve got your back.” The words felt thick on my tongue, but were no less true. I would not fail my son like my parents had failed me. I would be there, for everything.

  “Always,” I swore.

  And I fucking meant it.

  “Abraham Whalen Matthews.” Cassidy’s voice caressed each syllable as if embracing them in that motherly tone would cement them in time. I think it did. “We’re going to love you forever. You’ll see.”

  As Cassidy leaned forward to kiss his forehead, I did the same to her. She shivered as if an invisible, yet unbreakable, bond between the three of us had formed with our dual action. Real or not, it didn’t matter. It was there, and I was going to protect it at all cost.

  This was my family.