The only reason I don’t kill him is because I sure as fuck don’t know anything about birthing a baby, and I’m not sure if anyone else in this whole hospital does either, not the nurse in the room or the other woman who looks vaguely familiar. She’s an older lady I finally realize I’ve seen lots of times in the diner. For all I know, this doc could be the only one in the entire city who can do this.
“Keep breathing. You’re doing great,” he tells Naomi calmly, like her face isn’t a shade of red bordering on purple and there’s not a gallon of sweat dripping down her forehead.
“Time to push,” the nurse says. “Come on, you can do better than that. Push!”
“If I ever see…Malcolm Hyde again… I’m going to… KILL HIM!” Naomi yells before her words turn into an agonized scream.
She’s right. I did this even though I put all the blame on her. What woman would willingly do this to her body, though? I don’t think there’s any amount of money in the world worth this kind of pain.
Suddenly, there’s silence in the room, followed by the small cries of a baby.
“You did it!” the doctor says. “Congratulations! Here’s your perfect and healthy baby girl.”
Knowing it’s over, that the pain is over for Naomi and that our daughter is healthy has my back sagging against the closest wall and saying a prayer to a god I’m not even sure I believe in.
I remain in the same spot, unmoving until the doctor walks out of the room, giving me a double-take with the nurse right behind him.
The next time I sneak a peek into the room, the baby’s wrapped in a blanket in Naomi’s arms. Tears are running down her cheeks, but she’s also…smiling.
How the hell can she be happy about this when she was just screaming in pain?
“So, what do you think? Was she worth the nine months of discomfort and hours of spine-snapping pain?” the other woman asks Naomi as she leans over to brush her knuckle over the baby’s cheek.
“She’s…amazing,” Naomi responds with a sniffle. “I can’t believe she’s finally here.”
“Still love her?”
“So much my heart feels like it may explode,” she replies, making me feel like the biggest idiot in the world.
Naomi
* * *
I have a daughter.
I’m a mother.
While just hours ago those two things seemed like the scariest ideas in the world, now I know I can do this. I knew it as soon as I stared down at the pair of blue eyes that are gazing up at me in wonder.
“I’ll give you two a little time together before they come get her for her bath,” Nancy says.
“Thank you,” I tell her, barely looking away from my little girl for more than a second. “For everything.”
“No problem,” she says as she walks out.
“Well, it’s just you and me, baby girl,” I tell her aloud. It doesn’t even feel strange talking to her like she can understand me. She hears me, and soon she’ll recognize my voice as her mother, if she can’t already. “But don’t worry. We’ve got this. I promise you we do, no matter what.”
Before, I worried that a baby would be an extra expense and stress I didn’t need. But holding her, she makes all my worries disappear because she’s mine and I’m hers. It’s us against the world; and while I wish she could grow up with a father, I’ll keep telling myself we’re better off without him.
And maybe one day I’ll actually believe that statement is true.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Malcolm
* * *
As soon as Naomi and the baby go home from the hospital, I keep an eye on the farmhouse, stopping once in the morning in my truck and then at night after the boat docks when I stop by on my bike. Most of the time I don’t even get a glimpse of them, but sometimes I do. For a few seconds, when I see her in the window, it’s worth the hassle.
I keep waiting for a letter to come from an attorney, demanding a DNA sample to prove I’m the baby’s father so Naomi can start collecting child support.
But I still haven’t heard a single word.
And it blows my mind when I spot Naomi’s car at the diner less than two weeks after she gave birth – and then Greg confirms that she’s been there for hours, working a goddamn shift.
“Is she insane or something?” I ask him as we stand shoulder to shoulder at the window staring across the street. “Why would she leave the baby already? She’s still tiny and needs her mama.”
“If I had to guess,” Greg starts, pausing to throw some M&Ms in his mouth. “The fact is that the bills don’t give a shit about how little your kid is. They still have to be paid.”
“I don’t like it,” I tell him.
“Then do something about it!”
“Like what, exactly?”
“Don’t ask me, dude. I’m not the one who goes around knocking up poor women and then kicking them to the curb.”
“That’s not what I did,” I say even though it sort of is. “We had a two-week deal. That’s all it was supposed to be. This wasn’t supposed to happen…”
“Plans change, shit happens. You’ve got to suck it up and roll with it, dude.”
“Wait,” I say as a thought hits me. “If Naomi’s here, then who’s watching the kid?”
“Like I would know?” Greg chuckles.
“Right. See ya,” I tell him as I head out on my bike, riding to the farmhouse where there are no cars parked in the driveway. I kill the engine on my bike and stroll up to the rundown front porch as I begin to worry that Naomi left the baby home alone.
She wouldn’t do that, would she?
Before I can peek into the living room, the front door opens and out strolls a young redheaded girl with earbuds in her ears and a full trash bag in her hand. I freeze, hoping she won’t see me lurking behind the waist-high bushes beside the porch. And while it does take her a few seconds to notice me, eventually she startles, nearly jumping back a foot on the sidewalk as she shrieks and pulls her earbuds out.
“Who the hell are you?” she asks.
“Nobody,” I answer quickly. “Who are you?”
“I’m not telling you, so just spit it out. What do you want? If you’re thinking about robbing the place, there’s nothing of value inside.”
While that may be true materially, I can’t help but admire her for trying to deter me from the baby I’m certain must be inside.
“I’m not here to rob you,” I assure her.
“Okay, well, either stop acting like a creepy bastard or I’m going to call the police,” she drops the bag of trash and jogs back up the porch steps toward the front door while simultaneously reaching for her cell phone from the front pocket of her hoodie.
“Wait!” I tell her. “No need to call the police.” Pulling out my wallet, I take out all the cash I have on me, a little over two-hundred dollars and hold it out to her. “Will you just take this and hide it in the house someplace Naomi will find it?”