“Deal,” I smile, and take a sip, happy with our decision.
60
Trinity
“That should be the last of it,” gasps an out-of-breath Uncle Dex, who’s perched on the small ottoman in the nursery. It’s a fancy ottoman, one that matches the super-plush and super-comfy rocking chair that Nadia and Brody bought us for the nursery, the one Dex just carried up the stairs. The one all new parents must have, according to Nadia, anyway. “Looks good in here. Sure all this shit will fit?”
Looking around, I smile and shrug. “I hope so. It might take me a few days, but I’ll make it work.” Hendrix and Dex have been making trip after trip, bringing up all of the baby stuff that I’ve been storing at Dex and Til’s while we moved into our new house and painted the nursery. “There is too much stuff in here. I didn’t realize back at the shower just how much there was. Are you sure you and Tillie haven’t been adding things?” I ask, looking around at the piles of stuff I need to find homes for, including a bunch of items I don’t remember seeing before.
“Sorry, can’t say. Must be those gnomes” he laughs, standing, his knees cracking. “I’m off. I better get home before Tillie misses me too much.”
“You wish, old man,” says a sexy Hendrix, coming in with the last few bags. He’s wearing an olive coloured t-shirt that brings out his eyes; the fact that it fits snugly doesn’t hurt, either. I want in this man’s pants all the time. I have to bite my lip to stifle a moan from where I’m sitting on the carpet, sorting things in the lovely lilac-and-white nursery, the very one Hendrix and I finally finished the other night. It was worth it, though. It’s become my favourite room in our new house. We painted alternating white and lilac walls, and added a crystal chandelier light that Hendrix picked out for his princess one day while he was at Home Depot, along with the matching white crib, dresser, and change table Til and Dex bought for us. We are officially ready for our baby. Or will be, once we get everything else put away. If I can leave Hendrix alone for long enough, that is.
“Bye, Dex,” I say, as he kisses the top of my head and shakes hands with Hendrix before leaving.
The deep voice coming from Hendrix, who’s now sitting behind me in the rocking chair, surprises me: “What the hell is that?”
Looking around the room, I’m confused.
“What’s what? Are you talking to me?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says, and nods at the piece of clothing in my hand, and I giggle.
“Oh. It’s a onesie!”
“The hell she’ll be wearing any kind of onesie,” he says, giving me a knowing look. My cheeks heat as my mind pulls up that particular movie reel. Did I mention how hot Hendrix is looking today? Mmmm.
“You’re kidding, Hendrix. Babies live in these things for the first, like, three months, if not longer.” I hold up the purple onesie sleeper that says, “How I roll” beside an embroidered bottle of milk.
“My daughter cannot wear that!”
“What? Why?” I ask seriously confused.
“You know why, and I cannot make those kinds of connections to baby clothes! It will totally destroy my lust for onesies,” says my horny-assed husband.
“You’re an idiot,” I laugh, shaking my head. “They’re totally not the same thing, so don’t worry.” Ignoring his crazy talk and mumblings, I continue to fold and pack away diapers, receiving blankets, and a larger pile of even more onesies which, sad but true, aren’t even close to being as fun as the grown-up versions.
“All done.”
“Need a hand getting up?” a smug Hendrix asks, his voice teasing, because he always asks and I always say no…at first.
A few moments pass with me struggling unsuccessfully to lift myself from the ground—like a ladybug who’s been rolled over onto its back—and I finally cave. “Can you help me get up, please?” I ask a cocky Hendrix, who, of course, reminds me that he did offer in the first place but with me being the stubborn person I am, I needed to try myself.
“When did I get so big?” I huff, finally relenting when Hendrix’s muscular arms come to my rescue and he props me upright.
“You’re not big. You’re beautiful, glowing and the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen,” he says.
“Sweet talker.”
“No, honestly. Want me to show you just how sexy you are?” He raises his eyebrows in invitation. I lean up and kiss him hard, wanting badly to say yes.
“I love you, Mr. Hills.”
“You too, Fruitloop,” he says, kissing my forehead and grabbing my ass, pulling me in close against him.
I’m about to suggest that he runs out and picks us up Big Macs so we can eat before we get it on, but that’s when I feel it.
“Holy shit, are you ever wet for me…” Hendrix says in a sexy voice, and pulls back. But the sly grin on his face turns to a look of alarm as he looks down at the giant wet spot I’ve left on his bulge. I burst out laughing; I’m appalled, but there’s no way I can’t.
“Hendrix…I think my water just broke,” I say, looking down and seeing a wet patch all over the crotches and down the legs of his and my pants. “I think my water broke!” I repeat, as reality hits.
“What?” He looks down again. “Eeyagh! Holy fuck. It did. Okay, let’s go change our pants and then we gotta go. It’s baby time, Fruitloop. It’s baby time.” Hendrix grabs my face between both his hands. “I fucking love you. Let’s go meet our daughter.” He kisses my lips then leaves me without a word.
I stand there for a minute, processing. We’re going to have a baby. I’m going to meet my little girl. I’m about to be a mum. I thought I felt complete with just Hendrix, but having Hendrix and our daughter will make me whole. The ending I never thought I’d have a chance at…it’s here, it’s becoming my actual reality.
“Come on, Trin. I got the bags, and here’s a towel and a pair of sweats for you to change into. Let’s go…” I quickly clean myself off and pull the new pants on, then follow a mumbling Hendrix—who’s already talking on his cell to who knows who—as we walk out the door as a couple for the last time.
Soon, we’ll be a threesome.
61
Trinity
“Depeche Mode or Pink Floyd?” Hendrix asks, his eyebrows moving up and down as if he doesn’t already know the answer, as he sets up our iPod in the delivery suite.
“As if,” I huff.
“Fine.” He shakes his head. “Violator, or Music for the Masses?”
“Violator.”
“Excellent choice,” a voice booms from the doorway, where I see someone whom I’m guessing is the anesthesiologist entering, wheeling a cart. “Trinity? I’m Dr. Ambrose. I’ll be giving you your epidural this evening.”
“Will it hurt?” I ask, my voice starting to shake, because I’ve heard horror stories about these things. Also, I’m having a contraction, which hurts like hell.
“I cannot tell a lie. Yes, it will, a bit. Try to focus on the music and a conversation with your husband, and I’ll be as quick as I can,” he says, setting up behind me. I’m sitting up on the bed as he directed, with my legs over one side. He unties my gown at the back. I do my best to focus on the thumping bass as “Policy of Truth” plays, and Hendrix holds my hands.
Once Dr. Ambrose finishes and leaves, I start to relax as the pain from the contractions lessens considerably and I feel myself going numb from the ribs down. Hendrix and I don’t have to wait long before someone comes to check on us.
“Trinity, Hendrix! Hello, and congratulations,” a familiar voice calls as the doctor I remember from the time I fainted enters the room.
“Doctor Gallegan, hi. It’s nice to see you again,” I say to the woman who first told us I was pregnant.
“Hey, doc,” says Hendrix. She and Hendrix shake hands. “You the one performing the C-section?”
“No, OB/GYN isn’t my specialty, but, depending how the evening progresses, it’ll be one of two of my colleagues, Dr. Hussein or Dr. Cho. They’re both on-call tonight in obstetrics. Believe it
or not, there are about eight of you moms-to-be in here right now, it’s a little crazy. So, our delivery ward is in party mode tonight. I’m only here passing through while it’s quiet down in the ER. I saw your name on the board and wanted to pop in to say hello, and also to let you know Dr. Cho thinks, if everything stays on schedule, that they’ll begin your procedure in the next hour or so.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
“Good luck, you two. I’ll make sure I stop by later on,” she says, before leaving. Suddenly, I’m exhausted. The excitement is hitting me all at once, and maybe the epidural is affecting me, too, but I’m not sure if it’s that or not.
“Why don’t you go out, make some calls, and update the family? I’m tired and I just wanna close my eyes for a few minutes before we start,” I say to Hendrix, knowing he won’t like the idea of leaving me, but will do it anyway, because I asked.
“You know I don’t want to leave, right?”
“I do.” I smile because I know him so well. “But they’ll be worrying, and it’s been a few hours now already.”
“The things I do for you…” He kisses my forehead. “Lucky I love you, Mrs. Hills.”
“The luckiest,” I call, before he reaches the door.
“Be right back.”
“M’kay,” I say, closing my eyes and rubbing my numb belly. I still can’t believe I’m going to be a mum, that I’m going to have a baby. I’m still in denial, to be honest. I wake up sometimes in the middle of the night panicked that it was all just a dream. Then I feel her kicking as if sensing my agitation and trying to soothe me, letting me know she is very real indeed. It’s insane how you can love someone so profoundly when you haven’t even met them; already, I know that this little girl is going to be my whole world. Well, she and her amazing daddy.
I know our lives won’t always be easy, especially if she does test positive for HIV, and I’m not quite sure how I’ll handle it if she does. I remember all too well how I felt when I thought I might have infected Hendrix; imagine doing that to a little baby? I’m not really a religious person, however, I have been talking out loud to whomever or whatever may be listening. I’ve been asking for my baby to be healthy, and for me to live long enough to see her grow, marry, and maybe even have kids of her own. I know, though, that whatever happens to me as I continue my fight with my HIV, that she’ll be in good hands no matter what. I truly have the happiest life, something I never expected would ever be mine after finding out I was infected. Our little girl has no idea about the tribe that awaits her arrival outside this room. She may not have my parents, but she’s got more than enough family and friends to love her and take care of her.
“Fruitloop.” I feel Hendrix’s warm breath on my neck. “It’s time to meet our baby. Dr. Hussein is here, and we’re ready to move you to the delivery room.”
“Okay. I’m ready. More than ready, actually. Let’s go get our girl.”
“We’re gonna finally meet our daughter, Fruitloop. I can’t wait.” He takes a deep breath. “Thank you for this, Trinity.”
I nod, overcome with emotion. Hendrix runs his hand down my cheek and I smile before he covers my lips with his.
62
Hendrix
“Hendrix. She’s perfect.”
A groggy—yet still beautiful as ever—Trinity beams as she takes in our little miracle, while I lean in. I’m reluctantly taking our baby off her mummy’s chest where she’s spent the last few minutes bonding with Trin. Skin-to-skin contact was something Trin and I both wanted to be part of our birth plan. We loved the idea of our daughter getting to lay on her mum right after delivery not only to bond, but for the other positive effects it has, too, such as helping the baby to regulate her temperature and breathing. Enhancing bonding also helps the baby feel less stressed and she may even cry less, even having just been delivered by Caesarean. Here at West Lincoln Memorial, they support skin-to-skin contact even with C-sections, so we lucked out. I have to admit the whole event was pretty overwhelming and incredible to witness.
As soon as the baby had been removed from Trin’s belly, the obstetrician put her directly on Trin’s upper abdomen, and the medical team pushed our daughter gently up and underneath the concealing blue drape over her stomach which separated the doctor and nurses from Trinny and I. Our baby was then settled directly onto her mum’s bare chest. A nurse came up and quickly wiped the baby off a little before covering her head and draping a blanket over both her and Trin to keep them warm.
I gaze down at them. “Now I have two perfect girls in my life. How the hell did I get so lucky? We went from tire irons, to friends, to you falling madly in love with me, and now there’s a whole new person. Who let that happen?” I smile at my wife.
“I don’t want to give her up to you yet,” she jokes hoarsely, looking at our daughter who’s now snuggling in my arms. I’m about to try and feed her as the nurse has just suggested.
“I can’t believe she’s finally here, that we’re parents. It’s surreal,” I say, in awe. I’m officially a dad. Me, the broody asshole. Crazy how the right girl can make you see the light, and make you want to get so completely absorbed in it and in her that you change without hesitation or realization.
Trinity is my light. And, now, so is this little baby.
“Here’s a bottle, Dad. Give it to her nice and easy. She might resist at first but rest the nipple on her lips a few times, and I bet she takes it soon. I’ve only put a few ounces in. We’ll see how she does.” The nurse pats my arm, then pulls a chair over on our side of the blue drapery so I can sit close, so Trin can watch. I know not getting to breastfeed was harder for her to accept then she let on. I could see the sadness in her eyes when we were at our last Lamaze class and they were talking about the benefits.
“You gonna be a carnivore like your mummy?” I ask, doing exactly what the nurse suggested with the bottle as I feed my daughter for the first time. She quickly clamps her lips against the bottle’s nipple and starts to guzzle, and the bottle is empty before I know it. She’s fierce, a little fighter, just like her mother. “She is totally your kid. She pounded it back. You’d think it was a hamburger, or a bottle of red wine,” I laugh, and Trin gives me a dirty look, but then smiles.
“I can’t wait to hold her and feed her. I can’t wait to get us all home,” Trin says, softly. I know she’s tired. I can only imagine how tough having a baby is on the body.
“Hopefully soon, baby.”
Thankfully, the Caesarean section went well, and the doctors are confident the baby didn’t come into undue contact with any of Trin’s fluids during the delivery. Time will certainly tell. I’m really hoping that we can go home in two or three days at the most. It all depends on the baby and Trin’s recovery.
For now, we’ve been transferred out of the surgical suite and back to Trin’s hospital room. I see Dr. Hussein entering the room across from ours with a big smile, a gurney, and a nurse, saying, “Neeeeeext! Are you ready, my dear?”
After feeding little Zara again, I stand and move close to Trin’s hospital bed. “I love you, baby. I’m so proud of you.” I lean in carefully to kiss Trin’s lips; it’s a chaste kiss, despite my wanting to devour her like I usually do. I know she’s tired, and the grumpy nurse is sure to give me shit again. I’ve already gotten in trouble twice today for being me, as Trinity put it. Whatever that means.
Trin runs her hand over Zara’s soft cheek as I sit next to the bed. “She’s lovely. Just…lovely.”
“You take after your mummy, my lucky girl,” I whisper, leaning over Trin and laying a gentle kiss on the top of Zara’s fuzzy little head where it pokes out from the pink blanket.
We decided to name our daughter Zara, which means “seed” in Hebrew, “star” or “flower” in Arabic, and “princess” in Russian. She is our little princess, and we’ve been there to watch her grow from the very start, and will see her blossom over the years into the amazing person she’s destined to be. A woman, I predict, who will be strong and feisty
like her mother.
“Does the family know she’s arrived?” Trinity asks, but her voice is a little off, a croak in her voice making me alert. She sounds almost breathless, like she’s out of breath and struggling. I notice her chest is rising and falling more rapidly. Standing back up, I take the baby and move away from the bed, hoping Trinity’s just too warm and that it will help. I shift my eyes from Zara back over to Trin. Taking in her face, I notice she looks suddenly pale, and that her teeth…her teeth, they’re chattering. It’s really warm in here, though.
“Trin? Are you cold, baby?” I scan the room for another blanket, before looking down at Trin for an answer.
I get no response.
“Trin?” I say louder, stepping in right beside her bed again. I’m holding Zara closely, but I’ve placed her bottle on the bedside table.
“Trinity?” I shout now, my voice a deeper rumble. I try not to scare Zara, while trying to wake Trin. There’s suddenly a flurry of activity happening, a whole bunch of people rushing in as an alarm buzzer sounds…and then another.
“Doctor? Doctor, I think something’s wrong with my wife…” I state the now-obvious at the same time the medical team is surrounding her bed. I give Zara to a nurse I recognize, who had said earlier she was going to come to take Zara for a bath. I hand her off gently, despite not being able to take my eyes off Trinity, whose body has now started convulsing on the bed.
“Trinity!” I yell, moving in closer.
“She’s seizing,” I hear a nurse call, as a third alarm goes off.
“It’s cardiac arrhythmia; we need to stabilize her,” a voice booms to the team, and I look up and see Dr. Hussein. “We can’t let her arrest.” The doctor nods toward the heart monitor that’s going haywire.
“Get him out of here,” I hear someone order, and it takes me a minute to realize they mean me. I didn’t hear it at first, not over the pounding in my ears or the blood as it rushes to my heart, making it beat unrelentingly as I stand paralysed. Over to the side, I see another nurse who’s just rushed into the room prep the defibrillator while a third nurse jabs a needle full of something into Trinity’s IV.
Tainted by Love Page 27