by Daphne Swan
Once we’re on the road, Coach plugs his phone in and hits a few buttons on the screen. A moment later, the phone starts ringing through the speakers.
“Martin.” Mrs. O’Neil answers on the first ring.
“I’m on my way, Grace. I’ve got Wenzel with me.”
“Oh, that’s good. How are you, Eric?”
“Fine. How’s Molly?”
“She’s doing all right. They’ve got her on an IV drip, and they’ve just started administering the drug to help her induce. It’ll be a gradual process, so don’t worry, you’ll get here with plenty of time to spare.”
“And she’s okay? And the baby’s okay?”
God, I hate this. I feel so helpless. I wish I were there with them now.
“They’re both fine, honestly,” Mrs. O’Neil says. “Here. Why don’t I hand the phone over to Margaret?”
Her mom calls her Margaret...
I can’t help but smile.
“Hey,” Molly says.
“Hey. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
“Are you scared?”
She pauses for a moment before saying, “I’m fucking terrified.”
I close my eyes, wishing I could say everything that’s in my heart without Coach sitting next me in the car, listening in.
Oh, fuck it. This is too important to care about what he thinks.
“I know you are, Molly, but you’re going to be great. You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. I’ll be there as soon as I can, and I’ll be there for you. I’ll hold your hand and we’ll get through this together. I promise.”
For a second there, I regret my choice of words. Will she resent the implication that the delivery is something “we” will experience when she’s the only one who’s actually in labor?
The truth is I wasn’t really talking about the physical experience. When I said we’ll get through this together, I meant we’ll get through the gut-wrenching worry about the safety of our baby boy on his journey through the birth canal two weeks too early.
Oh God, please let him arrive safely.
“Thanks, Eric.”
I could be wrong, but her soft, gentle tone of voice tells me that she understood what I was trying to say.
After a pause, Coach speaks.
“Hi there, kiddo.”
“Hi, Daddy.”
When I notice the coach’s lips tighten and his eyes glaze with unshed tears, I quickly look out the window. He clears his throat before speaking again.
“Can I bring you anything?”
“No, that’s okay. Tricia’s going to stop by my apartment and pick up some things on her way over.”
“All right. But if you think of anything, just give me a call. Hang tight, and we’ll be there soon, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks, Dad.”
After he ends the call, two or three minutes pass in silence before Coach says, “So, you love her, huh?”
I turn abruptly to face him, but his eyes are fixed on the road.
As I gaze out the windshield at the road stretched out in front of us, I consider the coach’s question. It’s not like I haven’t been asking myself the same thing, especially over the past few days. Molly’s absence has left a gaping hole in my life. Every morning when I wake up, I feel a surge of happiness as I think of her—that is until I remember how she said she didn’t want anything more to do with me.
Maybe it’s unrealistic to think we could ever be together. Molly doesn’t trust me. For whatever reason, she’s determined to think the worst when it comes to me. Maybe this has to do with her age. Who knows?
But aside from all that, I know how I feel about her, and apparently, so does Coach.
“Yeah. I love her,” I say, still gazing out at the road.
After another pause, he says, “Okay. Well, just so you know, if you break her heart, I will personally tear you apart, limb by limb, and feed you to the grizzly bears at the Bronx Zoo.”
“Good to know,” I say, trying very hard not to crack a smile...and failing miserably.
I don’t think Coach has to worry about me breaking her heart. Molly has made it pretty clear how she feels about me, so even though I do love her, it’s clearly not meant to be.
Oh, well.
Anyway, I refuse to dwell on my own broken heart on this, the most exciting day of my life. Unfortunately, I don’t have my phone with me—or anything else for that matter—and there’s a call I need to make.
“Hey, Coach. Can I use your phone?”
“Have at it.”
I don’t have my mom’s cell number memorized either. It’s kind of scary how much we rely on stuff like contact lists, but that’s a quandary for another day. I Google the number of the store where my mom works and then navigate my way through the automated system before I finally reach her.
“This is Audrey Wenzel, Assistant Manager of Household Items. How may I help you?” she says.
“Mom, it’s me.”
“Eric! Why are you calling me on the store phone?”
“I had to leave my phone at training camp. We’re on our way into the city now. The baby is coming today. Molly had to get induced.”
“Wait just a second. Molly got induced? I think you need to start from the beginning.”
I get her up to speed, and she responds with reassurances that everything will be okay, just like I knew she would. When I let her know that I’m in the car with Coach, she gushes about what a beautiful, bright and well-mannered girl Molly is. As for Coach, he beams under the praise of his daughter. I always knew he and Mrs. O’Neil would love my mom and vice versa.
When Mom finally stops raving about Molly, I get to the point of the call.
“Can you book yourself a ticket on the next flight to New York? I would do it myself, but I don’t have my wallet with me. I’ll pay you back, though. I’ll write you a check or get the money wired into your account. Whatever.”
“You will do no such thing,” she says. “If there’s one thing I’m happy to spend money on, it’s a plane ticket to come meet my first grandson. I’ll take care of the fare myself.”
Oh my god. She’s exactly like Molly.
“Mom,” I say with a groan. “Do you have any idea how much that’ll cost? The airlines gouge you with prices on same day tickets.”
“Don’t worry about it, Eric. I’ve got plenty of credit.”
I turn to Coach and find him holding back a smile. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out his wallet. And then he reaches into the wallet and pulls out a credit card, which he hands over to me.
“You can pay me back,” he whispers.
Grinning, I take the card from him.
“Oh, wow. I thought I’d left it but it looks like I actually do have my wallet with me!”
“Don’t give me that—”
“No, I’m serious, Mom. I’m going to buy you a ticket now, so please don’t buy one yourself or we’ll end up with two ridiculously overpriced tickets.”
Her hesitation is made apparent by her silence, so I go ahead and drive my point home.
“I’ll text you with the flight number and departure time. What’s your cell number, Mom?”
“Eric Wenzel, how on earth can you not know your own mother’s number? It’s the only cell phone I’ve ever had, and I’ve had it for nearly ten years now...”
As she persists with the good-natured scolding, I glance over at Coach, and we exchange a smile.
Ah, family. What can you do?
28. MOLLY
Oh my god.
I squeeze my eyes shut and prepare for another contraction.
“Mind over matter, babe,” Helena says. “Mind over matter.”
“Do you want some more ice chips, Molly?” Nina asks.
I nod. Opening my eyes, I take the cup from her.
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.
It’s like somebody sliced me in half and is zapping my internal organs with a cattle prod.
“Just t
hink of the baby,” Beth says. “Think of the joy you’ll feel when you hold him in your arms for the first time.”
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.
“Squeeze my hand,” says Tricia.
When I take her up on the offer, she starts yelping in pain.
“Shit, Molly! Not so hard! You’re going to break my fucking fingers!”
“Patricia!” Mom scolds. “Would you please refrain from the use of profanity? This is a blessed event for heaven’s sake!”
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god! Oh my god!! Oh my god!!! Oh my god!!! Oh my god!!!!!
I screw my eyes shut again and cry out in agony. For a few seconds there, it’s absolute torture, but then the pain starts to subside, and I can breathe again.
For now.
“That’s it. I am never having children,” Colette says. “I’m going to start looking into getting my tubes tied the second I get home.”
I laugh. And even though I feel like I’ve been through the wringer, it feels good to laugh. I take another nibble of ice and lay back against the hospital bed.
The door of my room swings open and Eric comes charging in, closely followed by my dad.
Eric!
What a relief it is to have him here! I can’t take my eyes off of him, and I can’t seem to speak. Instead I reach out for him and he responds by racing over to the bed and scooping me up in his arms. I close my eyes and press my face against his collarbone, inhaling his singular scent, which is mixed with sunlight and sweat. He’s still wearing his practice uniform. His hair is messy, and there’s a long streak of mud on his forearm.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I whisper.
He gives me a squeeze and then pulls back a bit so he can look into my eyes.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he says under his breath.
The relief washes over me with the force of a tsunami. He could have been angry with me; he’d have every right to be. I acted like a child. But there’s no sign of anger in his eyes. There’s only warmth.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “How are you feeling?”
“Well, the contractions are no walk in the park.”
“I’ll bet.”
“But the doctor says everything is progressing as it should. No complications so far.”
“Thank God.”
I nod my head and reach for his hand. There’s so much I want to say to him. Should I just go for it? Should I apologize for how I acted and ask for his forgiveness? There’s so much going on right now with all these people in the room, and they all seem to be talking at once. They wouldn’t be able to hear me. Even so, maybe it should wait. I haven’t even said hi to Dad yet.
Oh, shit! Dad!
I shift my gaze from Eric to my father, expecting to find him looking seriously pissed off, but he doesn’t look pissed at all. He looks a little awkward, sure. I know he would rather not witness Eric and me holding hands and whispering words to one another. But he definitely doesn’t look like a guy who wants to pull Eric off me and start pounding him mercilessly.
I count this as a win.
“Daddy.”
Eric steps aside so Dad can wrap me up in a hug.
“How’s my little angel?”
I can’t help but smile. It’s been a long time since he’s called me that.
“I’m okay. The pain is brutal, but I’m so excited to meet the little guy.”
“So am I,” he says.
We exchange a smile, but then I feel then I start to feel another contraction coming on. I lean back on the hospital bed and brace myself. Dad gets pushed out of the way as Mom and my sisters and my friends hover over me, talking me through the agony, each of them supporting me in her own unique way, although some are definitely more helpful than others.
“Oh my god! It’s so barbaric!” Colette exclaims.
Yeah, she’s one of the less helpful ones.
A few minutes later, the door opens again, and the doctor walks in. Her eyes go wide as she looks around the room.
“Okay,” she says, almost to herself. She then turns to me and says, “Molly, I need to check to see how much your cervix has dilated.”
Dad, Eric, Nina, Helena and Colette immediately scurry to the other side of the room and turn their backs on us. Mom, Tricia and Beth are nonplussed. Mom takes my hand while the doctor bends my knees and peers between my legs.
“Nine and a half centimeters,” she announces. “It’s about time to get you into the delivery room.”
“This is it?” I ask.
“This is it,” she confirms with a smile. Her eyes dart around the room for a second and then she says, “You can choose up to three people to be in the delivery room with you. No more.”
“Okay.”
“The surgical team will be coming in a few minutes to wheel you down to the delivery room,” she says as she heads for the door.
After she leaves the room, I glance at the faces of all those around me. The ones who had their backs turned while the doctor was checking my cervix have spun back around to face me.
“Eric, Mom and Nina,” I announce.
I’d known this moment was coming, and I made my decision hours ago. I figure it’s best to tell them quickly and get it over with.
Dad looks relieved, and so does Colette. Helena looks like she doesn’t care either way, which is good and only to be expected. Colette and Helena are besties, just like Nina and me. Unfortunately, both Tricia and Beth look a bit crestfallen.
“I’m sorry, guys, but how could I possibly pick one of you over the other?” I ask them. “Obviously, I want Eric there to welcome the baby, and you know I’ve got to have Mom there, too. And I can’t possibly make a Sophie’s Choice when it comes to my sisters.”
I glance quickly over at Nina to make sure she isn’t offended. I know it sounds like I’m making her sound like my backup choice or something, and that couldn’t be further from the truth. She’s got a calming presence, unlike my sisters who are both kind of intense.
She smiles back at me, and I know she gets what I’m saying. This is exactly why I want her in the delivery room with me.
“Well...okay,” Tricia says.
“I understand,” Beth says with a stoic nod.
“Thanks, guys.”
I exchange a hug with both of them before the surgical team comes into the room to wheel me off.
“Don’t worry, kiddo. You’ll be great,” Dad says.
“Just focus on your breathing exercises,” Tricia says. “That’ll help. Trust me.”
“Focus on the baby,” Beth says. “Think of how much joy he’ll bring to your life.”
“Mind over matter, Molly” Helena says. “Visualize the pain and imagine yourself snuffing it out.”
“Glad it’s you and not me,” Colette says.
“Fuck you.” I laugh.
“Margaret Rose O’Neil!” Mom scolds. “You are hours—perhaps even minutes—away from becoming a mother. It’s high time for you to clean up your language.”
Within moments, it’s full on action station in this delivery room. One of the nurses gets Mom, Eric and Nina outfitted with plastic caps and surgical gowns to go over their clothes. Another nurse checks my IV. I get hooked up to all sorts of monitors, and for a moment there, with everyone in their scrubs and surgical costumes with the masks over their noses and mouths, I feel like I’m aboard a UFO and I’m about to be probed.
It’s weird where your mind goes sometimes.
Mom takes her place on one side of the bed, and Eric takes his place on the other. At some point, he must have taken off his uniform, because the shoulder pads are gone. I gaze up into his eyes, and he reaches down to take my hand. Even with all the activity around me, I can only focus on him. It’s all about him. I can’t explain it except by saying he is everything I want. He and the baby, that is.
Oh, shit. Here comes another contraction.
I lean back into the bed and brace myself
for the pain. Mom takes my other hand and holds on tight. I glance over and take comfort from the encouragement in her eyes. Nina is standing next to her. She reaches out and gives me a pat on the arm.
“All right, Molly. I need you to get ready to push,” the doctor says.
“Already? I thought you’d want me to hold off on that.”
“Nope. You’re ten centimeters now. It’s time.”
Okay. I get ready to push. I concentrate on my breathing while the pain gets more and more intense, so intense I feel like I’m going to crack into pieces.
“Push, Molly!” The doctor says.
I tighten my grip on both Mom’s hand and Eric’s hand and I push like there’s no tomorrow.
Mom’s screams are louder than my own.
“Honey!” she gasps after I finish pushing—and screaming. “I thought Patricia was just being dramatic, but I’m afraid you really are going to break my fingers.”
“Mrs. O’Neil, if you want, I can take both of Molly’s hands,” Eric says. “She’s not going to break my fingers, no matter how hard she squeezes. You can stand at the head of the bed and...I don’t know. Massage her shoulders or something.”
“That’s a lovely idea, Eric. And I think it’s about time you called me Grace.”
He doesn’t say anything in return, but I can tell from the way his eyes crinkle up that he’s smiling under that surgical mask.
Mom moves up to the head of the bed. She kisses me on the forehead and settles there behind me, with her gentle hands on my shoulders. Nina scoots up and leans down to prop her elbows up on the plastic mattress.
“You’re such a badass, O’Neil.”
I chuckle in response.
Uh oh. Another contraction is on its way, and it feels like the pain is hitting me faster now.
“Eric,” I reach out for him.
He takes both of my hands in his and leans down over me.
“You’re incredible, Molly,” he murmurs. “You’re the bravest, most beautiful woman in the world to me. You blow me away.”
Oh my god!
This has got to be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard, and I want to fall to my knees in gratitude because I am head over heels in love with Eric, but the timing... Seriously, the timing? It would be nice if he could have said this to me when it didn’t feel like someone was ripping out my guts and lighting them on fire.