I’m already a horrible mother, and my daughter hasn’t even come into the world yet.
The bathroom door opens, so I try to quiet down my bawling.
“Naomi?” Nancy asks. “Are you okay?”
“Y-yeah?” I respond, but it comes out sounding like more of a question than a statement.
“You don’t sound okay, and you’ve been in here for almost an hour!” she calls back. “Don’t you dare have that baby in one of our toilets!”
“I won’t. I’m not,” I promise her.
The restroom door slowly swings in since I didn’t lock it, and then Nancy, the one person I can always count on to be a ballbuster, offering no pity to anyone, looks at me with a frown. Our eyes meet right as another pain hits. This one is so brutal I have to reach out and squeeze the roll of toilet paper, my nails digging into the tissue until the worst passes.
“You’re having contractions, aren’t you?” Nancy asks.
“No. Yes. I’m not sure,” I lie, peeling off some tissue to blot at my tear and snot-soaked face once the worst passes.
“Come on, girl. Let’s get you to the hospital.”
“No! I can’t!” I tell her with a shake of my head. “I’m not ready to do this. Maybe-maybe it’s false-labor, you know, like Braxton Hicks contractions or something.”
“Does it feel like your body is about to be ripped in half from your spine?”
“Sort of,” I nod my agreement.
“Then you’re in labor. That baby is coming any second now, so it would be great if you didn’t make a mess for me to clean up in the bathroom.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her as I start sobbing again.
“Don’t apologize. Just get your ass up and in my car!”
“I can’t!”
“Well, what the hell are you waiting for?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest and sighing heavily when another teeth-clenching contraction hits me. That’s right. I’m finally able to admit to myself that perhaps I am having contractions.
Once I’m able to breathe easily again without the agony, I clutch my belly and tell Nancy, “I’m not sure if I can do this.”
“Not much of a choice now, girl. The baby’s coming, and being in denial isn’t going to stop it.”
“I’m not ready!” I yell at her, like it’s her fault that an asshole biker knocked me up and then tossed me aside like rotten leftovers he had found lurking in the fridge. “I can’t…I don’t know how to be a mother!”
“None of us do until the doctor puts the baby in our arms and says congratulations,” Nancy tells me. “A more appropriate saying from the doc would be good fucking luck, because being a mother is not easy. Most of the time it’s pretty damn hard, but the fact is anyone can do it. All it takes is one little skill.”
“What’s that?” I hiccup.
“Do you love her?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“You already love this child who kicks you all night and has been leeching off of your body, your energy, your soul for almost nine months?”
“Yes,” I answer again. I already care about this tiny person I’ve never met, more than myself. Loving her has never even been a question. If anything, I feel like I’ve let her down, not being the mother she deserves, one who could figure out how to keep her father around so that she wouldn’t be raised like I was.
At least I was lucky enough to have my grandparents. This little girl only has me. No matter what it takes, I’ll find a way to love her enough for the family she’s missing.
“Then that’s it!” Nancy says. “Loving her is all it takes for you to be a good mother. All you can do is keep loving your kid no matter what happens, and you’ll figure it out. That’s all this baby really needs from you.”
“Okay,” I say, trusting that she’s right about this. “I think…I think I’m ready to go to the hospital.”
“Finally! I thought I was going to have to knock you out and drag you in,” she huffs with a roll of her eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Malcolm
* * *
Greg’s ringing up a customer when I waltz into the store, so I grab a pack of chewing gum from the shelf, tear the package open and pop a piece into my mouth before I take up my usual position in front of the second window.
By the time Greg finishes the transaction and joins me, I still haven’t spotted Naomi. Her car’s in the parking lot, so she must be in the kitchen or in the bathroom.
“How’s it going?” Greg asks.
A grunt is my response as I keep my eyes on the diner.
“She’s not there,” he tells me.
“What are you talking about?” I turn to ask him. “Her piece of shit car is right there,” I tell him, pointing my finger at the old Chevy.
“She left. That other waitress, Nancy, peeled out of there with her about two hours ago. They were in a hell of a hurry to get somewhere.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I exclaim in his face. “Why didn’t you call and tell me?’
“Dude, I don’t have your phone number! And it’s not like you go more than a day without stopping in to check on her.”
“Fuck,” I say, dropping the pack of gum on the floor as I jog to the door.
“Think she’s having the baby?” Greg calls out. I flip him off on the way outside to my bike.
Why didn’t I give the kid my phone number so he could call me if something happened? I guess I thought Naomi had more time before she popped the kid out, but maybe not.
I ride by the farmhouse and knock on the door just to make sure Nancy didn’t drop her off at home, but the place is empty.
There’s only one other place Naomi could’ve gone.
I roar down the gravel driveway, taking off toward the hospital, breaking every moving violation known to man to get there within five minutes. Since it’s a small town, the entire medical center, emergency room and all, is only about a hundred rooms on two floors. The second is where the labor and delivery is located; so once I’m on the elevator, I push the button frantically to get up there.
As soon as the elevator doors open, I can hear her screams. Halfway down the hallway I finally hear her voice after months.
“Please!” she begs. “Give me something, anything to make it stop!”
I’m standing just outside the door when a man’s voice tells her, “I’m sorry, Naomi, but it’s too late for an epidural. The baby’s coming. Just a few more pushes and you’ll get to see your little girl.”
A girl.
I’m about to have a daughter.
The thought blows my mind. The faceless kid in my head now has Naomi’s blonde hair and blue eyes, and she’s wearing a bunch of pink shit. She’s beautiful like her mother...
I hold on to that image in my mind for the next half an hour as I stand there listening to nothing but Naomi’s pleas and screams that have me ready to strangle the doctor’s throat. He said a few more pushes, which was obviously bullshit!