“She’s doing great so far.”
In the background I hear Shay yell, “What do you mean great? Something the size of a watermelon is trying to come out of my—ohhhhhhhhh—”
“We gotta go,” Arturo says hastily. “Come to the hospital when you can!” With that he hangs up.
Labor can take a long time. Sometimes even days. I’ve spent some time leafing through Shay’s dog-eared copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting, so I know the average length of a first-time labor is eight hours. I could certainly go back to bed and get some more much-needed sleep, and I’d probably still make it to the hospital before Shay gives birth.
Instead I text Carmen. Which one of us is picking up the coffee?
Immediately she sends back, I’ve got it. See you there!!!!
Seton Central is all the way on the other side of town from my house, but at this time of night, the roads are empty. I get to the hospital within twenty minutes to find Carmen already pacing in the waiting room. Her outfit makes me giggle—a silver and black San Antonio Stars jersey and hot pink sweatpants—but I’m one to talk in my oversized fleece top and faded jeans. Carmen knows why I’m snickering and sticks her tongue out at me. “Laugh it up.”
“Sorry, sorry, I’m tired. Everything’s funny.”
And it is. A few hours ago I felt worn out and hopeless, but I guess the baby decided to remind me of all the good things still waiting in the world.
We drink our coffees and walk up and down the halls, watching the sun rise. Carmen tells me about the conversations she’s had with Arturo over the past few days. “When he finally understood how freaked out I was about my graduate work, he told me I was being an idiot. Which was not exactly a helpful thing to say—but I knew what he meant. And Arturo said neither of us would let anybody down.”
“Because you’re both smart, and determined, and probably the two most together people I know,” I say.
But Carmen shakes her head no. “He said it was because we were the most bullheaded people on earth. If we say we’re going to do it, it gets done.” She pauses. “Unless, like, a meteor hits the earth or something.”
“I think we can give you a provisional meteor exception.”
“Thanks.”
Shay’s baby might have gotten an early start this morning, but is apparently in no rush. Carmen and I breakfast on reconstituted orange juice and stale pastries in the hospital cafeteria. You’d think a place dedicated to health wouldn’t serve this kind of junk. (Maybe they’re trying to drum up future business.) We leaf through “women’s magazines” that are all about fugly crafts and baking and seem to be an average of eleven months old. We pace around the waiting room like Ricky Ricardo in that old episode of I Love Lucy. None of it makes the baby come any faster.
At one point, just to make conversation, Carmen says, “So what’s up with you and Jonah?”
All my exhaustion seems to descend on me again in a second. I sigh and lean back in my chair. “I don’t know.”
“You guys seemed pretty into each other at the party.” Carmen bats her eyelashes, deliberately over-the-top, in an attempt to make me laugh. “What’s wrong?”
“He came home with me this weekend.”
She sits upright and stares. “Jonah Marks went home with you after your father’s heart attack?”
“Yeah.”
“Vivienne, that’s major.”
“I know.” I hug myself tightly, my fingers buried in the cranberry-colored fleece of my sleeves. “And having him there helped so much. But—”
“But what, after that? You can’t agree on the chapel for the wedding?”
It’s a joke, of course, but Carmen’s so far off-base it hurts. She understands that I don’t get along with my family, even if she doesn’t know exactly why. This means she knows something of what Jonah’s support meant to me. How can I possibly explain that it all fell apart within an hour? “I think maybe we rushed things.”
How inadequate. It’s all I’ve got.
Carmen frowns, and I know I’m about to get the full third-degree treatment from her—but that’s when Arturo appears in the doorway. He’s wearing blue scrubs and an enormous smile, and while he’s still the same guy I know, he’s someone else now too, somebody new.
We both get to our feet, clutching hands. Tears well in Arturo’s eyes as he says, “I have a son.”
Then we’re all crying, and hugging, and the weary, bitter world somehow feels brand new.
Visiting Shay and holding the baby have to wait for a little later in the day. Carmen stays at the hospital, but I run a few necessary errands—picking up food for the new parents to keep in their room, putting out their trash at home, et cetera. I even buy a few pale blue balloons and tie them to their doorknob, so the neighbors will know the good news.