The Weight of Small Things

by Wood Emmons, Sherri

  “What a pair we are,” she said, laughing. “One big fat lady pulling another one up!”

  “Shut up and help me clean this up.” Bryn tried to frown at her, but soon she was laughing, too.

  It was a beautiful evening in April, only four weeks from Bryn’s due date.

  “You know if you keep eating ice cream every night, you’re never going to lose that baby weight,” Corrie said, mopping at Bryn’s stomach.

  “Who cares?” Bryn grinned. “I’ll just be a fat mama. The baby won’t care.”

  They gathered the scattered groceries and carried them into the kitchen.

  “God, my feet hurt!” Bryn sat down and surveyed her swollen feet.

  “Just sit there and put your feet up,” Corrie said. “I’ll put this stuff away.”

  “Thank you,” Bryn said. “You’re the best.”

  “Well, in a few weeks you’ll have to do the same for me.”

  Corrie carried plates of pasta salad into the dining room. They had just begun eating when the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll go.” Corrie rose and walked into the living room. Her own feet were tired, too, and her back ached.

  She opened the door. Paul stood on the front porch.

  “What do you want?” Corrie stood squarely in the doorway, blocking his entrance.

  “I came to talk to Bryn,” he said.

  “I don’t think Bryn wants to talk to you.”

  “Come on, Corrie. I won’t upset her, I promise. I just want to talk to her.”

  “It’s okay.” Corrie felt Bryn’s hand on her shoulder.

  Bryn walked onto the front porch and sat down on the glider.

  “Wow!” Paul stared at her stomach. “You’re huge!”

  “Thanks for the update,” she said, her voice flat. “What do you want, Paul?”

  Corrie closed the door.

  “I just want to talk,” he said. “I know it’s been a while. And I know you’re due pretty soon, right?”

  “Four weeks.”

  “Four weeks, wow. That’s coming right up.”

  “Not soon enough.” Bryn shifted uncomfortably in the glider. “So, what do you want to talk about?”

  “I’m moving in July,” he said, “to Lexington. And . . . well, I’m not going by myself. I thought you might want to hear that from me, instead of from someone else.”

  “The blond?” Bryn sounded bored.

  “Yes, actually.” Paul shifted from one foot to another. “Her name is Claire and we’ve been living together for a while and she’s coming with me to Kentucky.”

  “Good for you, Paul.”

  “Don’t be snide, Bryn.”

  “I’m not, really. Good for you. I hope you’ll be happy.”

  “Oh well . . . thank you.”

  “So, now you’ve told me, and you can go.”

  Bryn tried to rise from the glider, then gave up and sat back down.

  “We need to talk about the baby,” Paul said.

  Bryn simply glared at him.

  “Look,” he said. “I know I said before that I wanted to be part of the baby’s life. But now, it’s complicated.”

  “Let me guess!” Bryn smiled. “Claire’s not so interested in having a baby around?”

  “She’s young,” Paul said. “She just . . .”

  “Fine.”

  “What?”

  “Fine.” Bryn smiled again. “You don’t want to be in the baby’s life, that’s fine with me.”

  “I’ll pay support or whatever,” Paul said. “Whatever you work out with the court. But I can’t . . .”

  “Paul, listen, it’s fine. Go to Kentucky with Claire, start your new life. This baby and I will be just fine without you.”

  He stared down at her for a long minute, then tried to smile.

  “Okay,” he said. “Well, good luck to you.”

  “Good-bye, Paul.”

  “I’ll be in touch,” he said, backing down the porch steps. “I won’t skip out on child support, Bryn. I’ll send you my forwarding address.”

  He got into his car and pulled away, leaving Bryn alone on the porch.

  “Okay, kiddo, she said, arms wrapped over her belly. “It’s just you and me now. And we’re going to be just fine.”

  Corrie joined her a minute later, carrying their plates.

  “Did you hear?” Bryn asked.

  Corrie nodded. “Are you okay?” She handed Bryn a plate.

  “Actually,” Bryn said, “I’m relieved.”

  “Good. It’s so nice tonight, I thought we’d eat out here.”

  “Sounds good,” Bryn said. “We might as well enjoy the weather now; it’s supposed to storm tomorrow.”

  Corrie called up the stairs the next morning before she left for work. “Hey, keep an eye on the weather today. It looks like we might get some bad storms.”

  “Okay,” Bryn called back. She rolled over, pulled the covers over her head, and went back to sleep.

  Three hours later, Corrie sat in her office, rubbing her temples and wishing her headache would go away. She always got headaches when the barometric pressure dropped.

  What would it be like in Los Angeles? It was dry there.

  “Corrie!” Kenetha opened the door to the office. “The sirens are going off.”

  “Damn!” Corrie began shutting down her computer.

  “Honey, I think we’d better go now!” Kenetha grabbed Corrie’s arm and pulled her toward the hallway. “Look at that sky!”

  Corrie stood frozen for an instant, staring at the greenish-yellow sky, dark masses of swirling clouds hanging low over the ground. Then she ran after Kenetha toward the stairs.

  60

  “Boys!” Bob yelled, staring at the television screen. “Basement! Now!”

  He grabbed Cody and took Micah’s hand, running for the basement stairs and slamming the door behind him.

  “Is it a tornado, Daddy?” Cody’s eyes were wide with fear.

  “I’m not sure, buddy. But it looks like it might be.”

  They crouched in the corner of the basement farthest from the windows. Bob pulled a camping tarp over them and wrapped his arms around the boys. The house shook and a sound like a freight train crashing filled their ears.

  “Don’t worry,” Bob shouted above the noise. “I’ve got you. Don’t be scared!”

  Corrie and Kenetha stood in a basement hallway with several other people, holding hands. Above them, they heard glass breaking, things crashing, wind howling. Then, suddenly, silence. It was over in an instant.

  A cheer went up and people began walking toward the stairs.

  “Are you okay?” Kenetha stared at Corrie as she sank to the floor.

  Corrie’s face was white, and her hands shook.

  “I think my water just broke.”

  After the noise stopped, Bob cautiously walked up the steps and opened the basement door.

  “Daddy! Is it okay?” Micah called from the basement.

  “Stay there!” Bob yelled back. “Don’t you guys move!”

  He stepped tentatively into the kitchen and looked around, then sighed deeply, feeling his muscles relax. The windows had shattered and rain poured in through them. But the house was standing.

  Outside the sirens still wailed. Bob looked into the living room. Amazingly, the television was still on. They still had electricity. A newscaster was standing in front of a weather map, showing a huge storm moving north and east, away from Middlebrook.

  “Boys,” he called downstairs. “It’s over. You can come up. But watch out for broken glass.”

  Cody appeared first, staring in disbelief at the shattered windows. Then Micah came, stepping over glass shards to hug his father tightly.

  “It’s okay,” Bob said, hugging them both to him. “We can fix the windows. The storm is over, and we’re safe.”

  “Is Mommy okay?” Cody asked softly.

  “I’m calling her right now,” Bob said, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed Wendy’s
parents and nearly cried with relief when her mother answered.

  “We’re fine,” she said. “No damage here. How about you? Are the boys all right?”

  “We’re fine,” Bob said. “Broken windows and some minor damage, but—”

  “Daddy!” Micah screamed from the living room.

  Bob followed his stare to the television screen.

  “That’s Bryn’s street!” Micah sank to the floor, shaking all over.

  “I have to go,” Bob said into the phone. “I’ll call you later.”

  He sat down on the floor by Micah and wrapped his arms around the child, still staring at the television. The tornado had ripped through the park, twisting trees from the ground and throwing them like so many matchsticks into houses and cars. The camera panned down the street to reveal several houses that weren’t there. They had simply been swept away.

  “Daddy?” Cody stood behind him. “Is Bryn okay?”

  Bob stared at the screen, shaking.

  “Daddy?”

  “Come on,” Bob said, standing and pulling Micah to his feet. “Let’s go.”

  They drove through a scene from a horror movie, turning back from one route to try another. Trees lay across roads and houses, power lines lay sparking in yards, debris scattered everywhere.

  “Don’t worry, guys,” Bob said softly. “It’s going to be okay.”

  In the backseat, Micah sat quietly hunched over, his arms around his knees, his back shaking.

  After what felt like a month, Bob finally turned onto the street where Bryn and Corrie lived. A police barricade blocked the street; flashing lights from two patrol cars glared.

  Bob parked where he was and got out, staring down the street toward Bryn and Corrie’s house.

  “Daddy?” Cody stood beside him, staring with wide eyes.

  “It’s okay, buddy,” Bob said. Please, God, let it be okay.

  Then he saw her, standing in the middle of the street, gazing around herself as if in a daze.

  “Bryn!” Bob yelled. “Bryn!”

  He edged around the barricade but was immediately blocked by a policeman.

  “Sorry, sir. You can’t go in there. It’s not safe.”

  Before Bob could argue, a small figure darted under his arm and was running down the street toward Bryn.

  “Micah!” Bob yelled after him. “Micah, come back!”

  “Is that your kid?” The policeman let go of Bob’s arm. “You’d better go after him.”

  Bob clutched Cody’s hand and began jogging after Micah.

  “Bryn!” Micah called as he ran. “Bryn!”

  She turned at his voice and stood gaping as he threw his small body at her.

  “Hey, Micah, it’s okay,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around his shaking shoulders. “I’m okay, you’re okay, everybody is okay.”

  “I’m sorry I was mean to you.” Micah was sobbing into her stomach. “I’m sorry I made you go away.”

  “It’s okay,” Bryn crooned. “It’s okay.”

  She raised her eyes to Bob’s and smiled. “It’s okay,” she repeated.

  “Are you all right?” Bob panted.

  “I’m fine. Just really glad to see you guys.”

  “Thank God!” Bob wrapped his arms around Bryn and Micah and let the tears of relief stream down his face. “Thank God! We saw your street on the news and we thought . . . God, Bryn, I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

  “I’m sorry, folks, but you need to move away from here.” The policeman touched Bryn’s shoulder. “Are you all right, ma’am? Do you need to see a doctor?”

  “I’m fine,” Bryn said. “Really, I’m fine.”

  “I think a doctor is a good idea,” Bob said. “Just to make sure everything is okay.”

  Bryn started to argue, and then stopped. She smiled at him. “All right,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  Walking back to the car, Bryn held Micah’s hand. Bob carried Cody in one arm, his other around Bryn’s waist.

  He’d just started the car when his phone beeped.

  “It’s a text,” he said, clicking on the icon. His eyes widened.

  “What?” Bryn said. “What is it?”

  “It’s from Kenetha. She’s at the hospital with Corrie.”

  “Is Corrie okay?” Bryn reached for the phone.

  “She’s in labor.”

  “Let’s go!”

  61

  They drove toward the hospital, swerving around fallen trees and power lines.

  “Almost there,” Bob said. “Damn!”

  They could see the hospital two blocks in front of them, but another barricade blocked their route. Bob sat still a moment, staring at the road ahead, and then began inching around the cones. Immediately, the police car on the other side of the barricade flashed its lights. A police officer, a woman, got out of the car and walked toward them, waving her hands.

  “I’m sorry, you can’t come through this way. There’s a line down.” She pointed to a live wire snaking across the road.

  “We have to get to the hospital!” Bob shouted. “My wife . . .”

  He pointed toward Bryn, who immediately began puffing and moaning.

  “Hurry, please,” she said. “The baby’s coming.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake!” The policewoman walked to the edge of the barricade and waved them around, onto the sidewalk. Bob drove cautiously past the wire, then pulled back onto the road.

  “Did you just lie to a cop?” Micah’s eyes were wide.

  “Well, technically, I guess we did,” Bob said.

  Micah grinned, then began to laugh.

  “That’s the best sound I’ve heard all day!” Bryn laughed, too.

  Bob pulled into the parking lot and they ran into the hospital. The lobby was filled with people. Bryn walked straight to the front desk, patted her stomach, and said, “Maternity.”

  Immediately, a young man arrived with a wheelchair and began pushing her down a hallway toward the elevators. Bob and the boys followed them.

  On the fourth floor, they wheeled into the maternity ward. The attendant stopped at the front desk and called, “Here’s another!”

  He turned to Bryn and smiled. “Someone will be with you in just a minute. It’s kind of a madhouse today.”

  Then he walked back to the elevator. As soon as he’d stepped inside, Bryn got out of the wheelchair. Micah was grinning from ear to ear.

  “Can I help you?” A nurse appeared, carrying a clipboard.

  “Corrie Philips,” Bryn said. “She’s in labor, but she’s not due for two months.”

  The nurse looked at Bryn’s belly, then at her face. “You look like you’re due any minute.”

  “I’m fine,” Bryn said. “I just have to see Corrie Philips.”

  The nurse checked her chart. “She’s in room 416.” She pointed down the corridor.

  “Thank you!”

  Bryn took Bob’s hand and squeezed it.

  “Maybe you and the boys should wait here.”

  “Give her our love.”

  Bryn walked fast down the hallway and into the room where Corrie lay, hooked to monitors and an IV. Kenetha sat beside her, holding her hand.

  “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  Corrie smiled at her weakly. “I’m sorry,” she said. “My water broke and then I started labor. It’s too soon, Bryn. It’s too soon for this baby to come.”

  “It’ll be okay.” Bryn sat on the edge of the bed and took Corrie’s free hand. “Are they giving you something to stop the labor?”

  Corrie nodded toward the IV.

  “Is it working?”

  “I think so.”

  “The contractions aren’t as strong or as frequent,” Kenetha said, pointing to a monitor.

  “Good! Just lie there like a good girl and relax and do what the doctors tell you.” Bryn patted Corrie’s hand. “You’ll be fine.”

  “I’m really glad you’re here.” Corrie’s face was pale, her hair damp w
ith sweat.

  “Me too.” Bryn smiled. “Did you get here before the storm hit?”

  “No, we were in the basement when I started having contractions.”

  “How did you get here?” Bryn asked. “It seems like half the streets in town are blocked.”

  “Kenetha called an ambulance.” Corrie smiled at Kenetha. “Thank you.”

  “Stop thanking me,” Kenetha snapped, still staring at the monitor. “I told you you’re gonna owe me big-time. Next time I want a day off, I’ll remind you of that.”

  “How did you know I was here?” Corrie asked. “We tried your cell, but you didn’t answer.”

  “Bob got a text from Kenetha.”

  “Bob’s here?”

  “Outside with the boys. They came to check on me after the storm.”

  “Are you all right?” Corrie’s eyes widened. “Is our house still standing?”

  “Actually, it’s kind of a miracle,” Bryn said. “The house next door has no roof, and the one behind us is just completely gone. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “What about ours?” Corrie asked.

  “That’s the miracle,” Bryn said, smiling at her. “Other than some shattered windows, ours is in good shape. I mean, I didn’t do an inspection or anything, but it looked fine.”

  “And Bob is okay? The boys?”

  “They’re good. They’re in the lobby. They’ll be glad to know you’re okay.”

  A nurse walked into the room, checked the monitors, and wrote on Corrie’s chart.

  “You’re doing great,” she said, smiling at Corrie. “Just relax and let those meds do their work.”

  She turned to Bryn. “How are you?”

  Bryn laughed. “I’m fine. Not due for another four weeks.”

  “Well, this one”—the nurse nodded at Corrie—“is going to be on absolute bed rest for a while. We’ll keep her here until we’re sure the contractions have stopped. If we’re lucky, she can go home tomorrow, or the day after.”

  “And if we’re not lucky?” Corrie’s voice quavered.

  “If we can’t send you home, then you’ll have to be here for the duration.”

  Corrie dropped her head onto the pillow and squeezed her eyes closed.

  “Have you reached your husband?” the nurse asked.