Just One of the Guys. Kristan Higgins

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СКАЧАТЬ to drowning, my breath coming in labored gasps. “Your phone! Where’s your phone? I can’t find the phone!”

      “It’s right in the…oh, man…” She takes a deep breath, then releases it slowly. “Ooh! A contraction! It’s in the side pocket.”

      “Side pocket, side pocket, side pocket.” I can hear myself distantly. Easy, Chastity, easy…breathe, breathe, breathe. I can’t faint. I want to, apparently, but I can’t. I have to help this lady. What if that blood means something bad? Someone will have to help her. Someone like me, for example, since I’m the only person here. Renewed terror zips through my veins. I can’t get enough air and I’m hot and cold at the same time and shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. “Are you sure blood is normal?” I squeak.

      Kim straightens up in her chair to look at me as I rifle through her bag. “It’s okay,” she assures me. “The blood is just from my cervix dilating. Perfectly natural.” She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, then smiles at me. “They say it will take a long time, even from when your water breaks. The baby won’t come for hours. Maybe not even until tomorrow.”

      They say. Who the hell are they, and what do they know? And why is Kim so calm? Isn’t she worried about her own child? I would be! Babies are born in freaky places all the time! I wouldn’t want my baby to be born on the sidewalk or backseat of a cab or on some carnival ride or in a toy store!

      The phone! “I found it!” I announce, but it slips from my sweaty hands and skitters away on the wood floor. I pounce on it, snatch it up and stare at the console. How is anyone supposed to make an emergency call on buttons that are a bleeping millimeter wide? Carefully, as Kim inhales and exhales in the background, I punch in 911 with a violently shaking finger and wait for the dispatcher’s voice.

      “911 emergency, how can—”

      “A woman is having a baby!” I bark. “A baby! Right now!”

      “Is that my husband?” Kim asks.

      “Where are you, ma’am?” the dispatcher asks.

      “Um, uh, we’re um, let’s see now, um, the new toy store? In Eaton Falls? On um, let’s see, Ridge Street? Next to the coffee place, about eight blocks from the firehouse, okay? So send them, okay? They have an ambulance and everything! Are they on their way yet? I don’t see anybody. Where are they? Why aren’t they coming?”

      “That’s not my husband, is it?” Kim demands in the background. “Did you call 911? What did you do that for?”

      “Because you’re having a baby and I can’t deliver it!” I yell.

      “Eaton Falls Fire is on their way,” the dispatcher says. “Would you like to stay on the phone until they arrive?”

      “Yes! Yes! Don’t hang up on me! Don’t leave me.”

      My chest is heaving as I try to suck in enough air, but I stagger over to Kim, who is looking at me disapprovingly over her stomach. “Don’t push,” I tell her. “They’re coming. Do not push. Do you want me to get some towels? How about that coffee, huh? There’s a danish, too, but I was going to eat that. But you can have it! Sure! Want the danish? Just don’t push. I’m not good at this sort of thing.”

      “Really?” she says, and is that a bit of sarcasm? During labor? How can she be so calm? “Can I have my phone, please?”

      I’m still pressing the phone against my ear, hard enough for it to hurt. “Ma’am?” the dispatcher says. “What’s the situation?”

      Sirens go off down the street. “Finally!” I shout. “Oh, God, hurry. Don’t worry, Kim, don’t worry, they’re coming.”

      Kim stands up—surprising for a woman about to give birth—and pries the phone out of my hand. My watery knees finally give out, and I sink to the floor with a heavy thud, gasping. Winnie the Pooh looks on unblinkingly, and Eeyore frowns with the expected disapproval.

      “Hi,” Kim says into her itsy-bitsy cell phone. “This is the pregnant woman. I’m fine…No, you don’t need to send them…my water broke, but I’m…oh, okay. Sure, fine. Thank you.” She hangs up. “I just wanted you to call my husband,” she tells me, accusation heavy in her tone.

      From my place on the floor, I have an all-too-clear view of the smear of blood on her ankle. Please let the baby be okay, I pray distantly. Please, God. My ears are roaring, black holes are appearing in front of me, and I can’t get enough air. I inhale desperately, but my vision is fading. I tip my head between my knees and try to breathe.

      I hear the bell over the front door tinkle, and look up to see four men trooping into the store single file, carrying bags of gear. Dad, Trevor, Paul and Jake, turnout gear on, reflective letters catching the light. Thank God. The guys lurch to a stop when they see Kim standing calmly over me, her hands on her hips. “Hi,” she says. “My water broke. I didn’t actually mean for the fire department to come.”

      My father looks down at me. “Get some oxygen, okay, Paul?” he says.

      “I don’t need any,” Kim says firmly.

      “It’s not for you.” Trevor smiles. “How far along are you?”

      “I’m due tomorrow,” she says. “This is my first baby, and they said it will take a while. I’m really fine.”

      They are all standing around, looking at me. Paul comes back and kneels next to me. “Slow down, kid,” he says. I force myself to obey, managing a few normalish breaths before he slips a mask over my mouth. I breathe in gratefully, feeling the slight rush of one hundred percent oxygen.

      “Oops, here’s a contraction,” Kim says, breathing deeply and exhaling.

      “Would you like to sit down?” Trevor offers.

      “No, no, I can stand through it…there. It’s gone.”

      “You’re a champ,” my father tells her. “My wife had five kids. Natural childbirth for every one of them. You’ll do great.”

      Thanks, Dad. And Kim! Can’t she ham it up a little for my sake? Standing through contractions—show-off. Now that I’m no longer hyperventilating, my cheeks start to burn. Crap. It’s happened again.

      “You okay, hon?” Dad asks me.

      I don’t bother to answer.

      “We’d be happy to take you to the hospital,” Trevor offers Kim.

      “My husband works at the school,” she says. “I’ll just give him a call and he can come get me. But thank you.” She dials her husband’s number and speaks softly into the phone.

      Dad radios back to dispatch. Paul picks up a Legos model. “I think my son has this one,” he murmurs, turning it over. “Yup. Star Wars Destroyer. Remember this one, guys?” He holds up the box.

      “I love that movie,” Jake says dreamily. “‘May the Force be with you…always.’ So cool.”

      Dad asks the woman about name choices, Paul opens a copy of The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane. I suck oxygen. Three minutes later, the husband arrives СКАЧАТЬ