Keeping Molly

by Hayes, David C.

  Keeping

  Molly

  David C. Hayes & Kevin Moyers

  Copyright © 2016 David C. Hayes

  Cover Illustration by Craig DeBoard

  Cover Design by David Anderson

  Edited by Michael Cieslak

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-945940-00-2

  www.sourcepointpress.com

  DEDICATION

  For Sandy. I love you THIS much. - David

  For Casey. You’re way too young to read this stuff;

  wait until you’re twelve. - Dad

  CONTENTS

  1

  8

  2

  18

  3

  24

  4

  31

  5

  36

  6

  40

  7

  50

  8

  73

  9

  86

  10

  95

  1

  There was just something about her that made him feel good about himself. Alan was never a confident guy, but from the moment he saw Molly, something lit up inside of him. In his nineteen and a half years, he had never felt anything like it. College had been rough to that point. Alan was never very popular, so making friends didn’t come easy. He was a loner in high school, save for his marching band friends, but they all went in different directions as soon as they left the graduation ceremony. Cool was never a word that described him. He was a dork, a geek, a loser. He got pushed around now and then. He just didn’t fit in.

  Molly made that all go away.

  In his sophomore year, Alan was a business major. He really had no idea what else to do with himself. Law, medicine and other lofty professions didn’t interest him. He couldn’t do much with his clarinet, especially considering the fact that he wasn’t very good at it. Most of the time, he would just fake playing along while the remaining band members carried the load. You could get away with that when you were fourth clarinet. You were never going to be asked to perform a solo. That attitude summed up Alan’s existence. He would always do his best to slide by undetected. In spite of that, he did catch someone’s eye.

  There was a party before Thanksgiving break and, as usual, Alan wasn’t invited. He was never invited. It wasn’t that people didn’t like him; they just had no idea who he was. One of his few marching band friends, Jeremy, coaxed Alan him into going along. Alan had no interest in the party, but the mention of a keg brought him around. Alan had been a fan of the social lubricant since high school. It made him feel comfortable, like he fit in. It actually opened him up and got him to talk. Like any kind of crutch, it took control once it entered his body and defined who he was for a time, and, worst of all, he wasn’t sure when to stop or even if he could. Alan didn’t drink often, but when he did it was the only way he knew how to cope.

  The party was nothing to write home about. There were jocks doing jock things, like wrestling and keg stands. Frat boys talked up sorority girls while faithful pledges served their every whim. A few of the nerds and band geeks huddled in the corner, wondering if they would ever get to see any of these girls naked, then realizing their chances were slim. Typical mix of college kids, with a few average folks scattered throughout.

  Alan hovered near a keg, refilling when he needed to. As the people watched, a voice came from behind him. “Can I get a refill?” It was sweet, but it startled him.

  He turned quickly, expecting to see one of the sorority girls about half a beer away from puking and instead saw a face he didn’t expect. She was pretty, but more than pretty. There was something unique about her, but he couldn’t nail it down. Her wavy brown locks dangled past her collar and rested on her perky chest. Alan had to shake himself out of this momentary trance.

  “Uh, sure, yeah,” he stammered. He set his cup on top of the keg and grabbed hers, quickly filling it from the hose on the tap.

  “Thanks. I’m Molly,” she said and extended a hand.

  He looked at her hand and fumbled for a place to put her cup. She giggled and waved him off.

  “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking!” She said and he chuckled with her, holding his hands up, double-fisting two cups. That was it. It was the beginning of something special. Like many first meetings, it was really nothing more than a simple hello that turned into a night of conversation.

  Alan and Molly talked late into the night, abandoning the party. This was a new experience for Alan and, he realized later, none of it had anything to do with the amount of liquid courage he could dump into his body.

  Molly was a talker, making Alan’s job in the conversation that much easier. She talked about how she couldn’t decide on a major and how she didn’t usually come to these sort of things. She waxed poetic about her overbearing mother and just trying to fit in… playing along sometimes without really committing. Alan smiled, nodded, and commiserated.

  If Alan had more of an imagination, he would have known, at that point, that his life had finally come full circle. Molly completed him, filling in the holes. Alan completed her, as well. She needed someone to take care of. He mother had impressed upon her the need for women to gauge themselves by just how much their spouses were dependent on their very existence. In Molly’s case, it was nothing conscious. It just was. In Alan, she saw a lost soul in need of help that knew, first hand, what it was like to be unsure of everything. In supporting him, she would be forging a life for herself.

  They both found purpose, that night, coming as close to ‘hopeless romantics’ as their ambition and upbringing would allow. They would remain devoted to each other for the rest of their college careers and throughout their marriage. Each year, on the anniversary of that very evening, Alan and Molly would share a six-pack of very cheap beer in celebration. That is, of course, until it became medically unsafe for Molly to have even a single, cheap beer.

  ***

  It was a warm spring day. Alan, out in the yard, prepared the pool for its first use of the year. His portable stereo sat on a glass topped table and blasted the local classic rock station.

  Alan sang along, “B-b-b-b-bad! B-b-b-b-bayyyad!” A half-empty can of lukewarm beer sat next to the inexpensive stereo and Alan reached over without looking and lifted the can to his lips. He took a small sip while he attempted to skim leaves out of the water with one hand. As he blindly attempted to set the beer on the table, he nearly dropped it, splashing water with the pool skimmer onto Mr. Peepers, their middle-aged cat.

  Mr. Peepers squawked and bolted through the doggie door into the kitchen. He ran past Molly, humming as she eagerly checked off another day on the calendar. Only nine more days until she reached B-Day. She had anticipated B-Day for the past thirty-nine weeks. The due date for her first born was a Tuesday. Alan was set to take some vacation time from the office and Molly had the baby’s room set perfectly. The crib was built and situated months ago. She settled on a circus theme, figuring it would be neutral. Molly didn’t know the sex of the baby, she and Alan wanted it to be a surprise. Well, Alan wanted to know, but there wasn’t much for him to say about it. He knew who ran the family, and if Molly wanted it, she got it.

  He knew he was lucky to have her. Without Molly, where would he be?

  Mr. Peepers, the splashing incident forgotten, slinked up to Molly and rubbed against her leg. Molly reached down to scratch her furry companion, but, as she bent, a sharp pain shot through her body. She yelped and her abdomen tightened. She clutched at her belly as she doubled over. Mr. Peepers scampered back and away from Molly, looking at her in confusion.

  “Alan…”

  The music was far too loud. Alan bopped around as he shook leaves off of the skimmer and into the grass. The
DJ chimed in with some bed music. “Spinning another ten in a row on this classic rock A-Z weekend…”

  Molly tried to yell again as she cringed and sunk to the floor, her back to the end of the kitchen island. Nothing came out but a frail shriek. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she finally belted out at the top of her lungs.

  “Aaalllaaaannnnn!”

  Mr. Peepers darted out of the kitchen through the doggie door, bee-lining for the pool and in between Alan’s legs, almost tripping him.

  “What the…” He turned and looked through the plate glass sliding door. He could see Molly’s legs on the kitchen floor. “Molly?”

  He dropped the pool skimmer and rushed to his wife.

  Alan whipped the sliding door open, knocking the screen door loose as he charged toward his ailing wife. He dropped to his knees and slid across the cold tile floor to her. The legs of his dingy sweat pants absorbed the viscous mixture of water, blood and what appeared to be a dark mucous that spilled from between Molly's legs. He grabbed her by her shoulders.

  "Are you okay?"

  She looked at him with confusion and disgust. "Get me to the hospital! Now!"

  Alan pulled himself to his feet with a hand on the kitchen island. He slid Molly toward him and lifted her under her arms. She craned to her feet, struggling to get her balance through the pain and the slimy ceramic underfoot. Alan practically carried Molly through the dining room to the front door. Making it to the door with effort, he reached down for a small suitcase that had been waiting there for two weeks. As his hand grasped the handle, Molly squealed in pain.

  "Leave it," she managed to get out.

  Alan nodded and let the bag go, placing his full attention on his bride. As he steadied her, he quickly reached down and grabbed the bag.

  "Alan!"

  The front door of their single story starter home flew open and the couple poured out. Alan's excitement was building as the realization of becoming a father hit him. Molly, more pragmatic, focused only on getting to the hospital. They ambled down the driveway, three-legged race speed, toward the car.

  Their next door neighbor, Monty, was outside doing the usual poor job of trimming his hedges. He was an overweight man with shaggy hair and a fairly unkempt beard. He wore grungy cutoff denim shorts, that had probably last been washed just after they were purchased sometime in the 1980s, and an undersized Weird Al concert t-shirt that stretched across his chest as though he it were a literal second skin. Needless to say, Monty was a bachelor. He cut nothing but air with his hedge trimmers

  as the hurried couple distracted him.

  "Hey, Al. How's it going?" Monty asked, staring at Molly whose grimace indicated a fair amount of agony.

  Alan looked over and forced a little smile. "Uh, baby time."

  Monty snapped out of his frozen gaze. "Oh!" He set the hedge trimmers down and started around the hedge. "Need a hand?"

  "That would be nice," Alan mumbled, trying not to sound condescending.

  Monty got near the couple, and a spurt of blood shot out from beneath Molly's dress, splattering and spreading on the pavement like some fleshy, organic Jackson Pollock piece.

  "Alan?" she whimpered.

  Monty stared at the growing pool of dark blood before scrambling to get the car door open. Alan guided Molly into the front passenger's seat as Monty nervously reached out and then jerked his hand back, knowing he wasn't helping. Alan shut the door, nearly smashing Monty's fingers. He moved as though Monty wasn't there.

  As the car sped away, Monty waved nervously. "Congratulations."

  He looked down at the blood on the driveway for a long while and, eventually, decided to amble back to his front yard to retrieve the garden hose.

  2

  Alan pulled up to the ER. He ran out of the car after barely getting the shifter completely into park. He ran around the back of the car, almost slipping on the concrete, and headed toward the automatic double doors.

  As they opened, he yelled, "Doctor! We need a doctor now!"

  A nurse behind the check-in counter quickly picked up the phone and dialed.

  As Alan headed back to the car, Molly reached over and shut it off, pulling the keys from the ignition. He whipped the door open and then gingerly took his wife's hand. As he pulled Molly from the seat, he turned to see an orderly standing with Alan's old college roommate and friend, Dr. Tony Valdez. The two had a gurney with them, and they were ready to get started.

  "Get her on the gurney," Dr. Valdez calmly instructed. He, Alan and the orderly did so quickly while Molly winced. Dr. Valdez looked at the orderly. "Leon, take her to the OR, and I'll get scrubbed."

  "I'm right behind you honey," Alan called to Molly as he attempted to follow Leon.

  Valdez put his hand to Alan's chest, stopping him in his tracks. "You'd better not, Alan. Stay in the waiting room."

  "Bullshit, Tony! I'm going in!"

  Dr. Valdez looked stern. "Alan, you don't need to be in there. Let me do what's best for Molly. I'll take good care of her. You have to trust me." Alan tried to push his way around his longtime friend, but Dr. Valdez held firm.

  "Come on, Tony. She needs me in there."

  Valdez tried to be sympathetic. "Listen, Alan. Every minute I waste out here is a minute I could be in there. Do you want me to help or not?"

  Alan relaxed his posture and nodded with his head down. “Just help her, Tony.”

  The doctor patted his friend on the chest. “I will. Now, go sit. I'll update you soon.”

  Valdez turned and bolted through the operating room doors. Alan sighed and sulked as he rubbed his face and head with his right hand. He looked up and down the hall and felt like he was in outer space. Not knowing what was happening, or what was going to happen, killed him.

  He spotted a soda machine and decided that having something to drink might calm him down. He dragged his feet toward the machine and stared at the brightly backlit display as it hummed. As he fished for change, Alan’s eyes kept darting toward the doors that Tony pushed through only moments ago. What was happening in there? Was Molly going to be okay? He tried to push those thoughts back as he slowly dropped coins into the machine's cold slot. As each quarter and dime slid in and clanked, Alan's thoughts grew further from the task at hand. He wearily pressed the diet soda button and looked back at those taunting doors as the can exited the machine with a series of thuds.

  ***

  Dr. Valdez was calm and organized in the operating room. This room wasn't usually used for deliveries, but they had no time to move Molly upstairs. This baby was coming right now no matter what room they were in. As he barked orders to the nursing staff, Tony was a mess inside. This was his best friend's wife and child. If anything happened, he would hold himself responsible. He had to move fast and above all, with a degree of accuracy that rivaled perfection. One false slice or snip could be disastrous.

  "Molly," he said, quiet and calm, “we have to perform a Caesarian. There’s no way to get you dilated enough to deliver vaginally. Do you understand?"

  Molly nodded through the tears. Her abdomen was cleaned quickly with iodine. The doctor worked like a machine.

  "Nurse, I need a local." A nurse brought him a needle filled with a light anesthetic. "Molly, you'll feel a small prick. This will numb the area." He took the needle and administered the anesthetic.

  Molly winced and let out a quiet moan as the needle went in. She felt the numbness soon after. She only felt pressure as the scalpel sliced across her lower abdomen between her hip bones. Everything sounded hollow in her ears as she clutched the nurse's hand. It didn’t even feel like she was there. Dr. Valdez's words sounded as though they were coming from another room. She felt some pushing and pulling, not realizing this was actually her organs being temporarily displaced, as the baby was lifted from her.

  Then she heard nothing.

  Silence filled her ears as Tony and the staff of the operating room burst into what looked like a panic. Something was wrong. The baby? That was all she kne
w. With that thought, Molly’s eyes rolled back into her head, and her arms dropped heavily to her sides.

  "Doctor! She's fainted!" yelled the nurse who held Molly’s hand.

  Valdez called back, "Keep an eye on her." His focus was on the baby. Although he couldn’t know it, Molly was right. Something was wrong.

  ***

  Alan slumped into the waiting room couch. His eyes hadn't left those double doors during what seemed like the longest twenty-six minutes of his life. His diet soda was short only two or three sips, and it just rested on his leg, his hand barely keeping it upright. Finally, the doors pushed open, and Alan’s eyes went wide. It was Tony. The doctor looked up and their eyes met. Alan stood.

  For the first time in years, Dr. Valdez struggled to come up with the words that he needed to say to his patient's love one. This was different. Not only was it the worst news he would ever have to deliver, he was going to have to give that news to his friend. Alan knew immediately that something horrible had happened, but he didn't know exactly what. His breathing became irregular as his jaw dropped open.

  Tony finished the walk toward him. "Alan, I'm sorry."

  The diet cola can fell from Alan's hand, hitting the floor with its bottom edge before tipping and spilling its contents all over the floor. Alan couldn’t speak. He heard that same silence that Molly experienced on the operating table. Alan understood everything that Tony was saying to him, but it was all coming through as a hollow echo.

  3