Page 121 of Salty Pickle

I call Devin. “I need a flight to Denver, Colorado, as soon as you can make one. Any class. Any airline. Any price. I’m about to get in an Uber. I’ll head toward La Guardia but let me know if we should divert to JFK.”

“Is this about Lucy?”

“She went into labor, and the nurses called her doctor here.”

“That’s great news! I’ll get right on it.”

Is it great news? I remember her standing in my office the first day, distraught that I was willing to miss the birth of my baby.

She was so sure. She was always so sure.

I’ve screwed up.

What’s an apartment without your family in it?

What’s a job if you hate it?

As I lock the front door, I say to it, “I’m never coming back here.”

Now I have to find a way to make it true.

37

LUCY

This baby is never coming.

It’s been twelve hours.

The nurses aren’t concerned yet, patting my knees and giving me patronizing lines like, “Babies come when they’re ready.”

I’m ready.

Mom’s doctor has checked on me twice, glad to introduce himself before the big moment. “I delivered you, you know!” he says with a wink.

I’m so tired, but I can’t sleep anymore. I’m not allowed to eat in case they need to intervene with a c-section. The waves of contractions don’t hurt exactly, but I’m weary of feeling them. If one more person takes my blood pressure, I’m going to lose my mind!

I need a break from my hovering parents, so I insist they go check on Matilda. I ask Mom if I can borrow her phone while they’re gone. I haven’t gotten a new one yet.

When I’m finally alone in the room for ten seconds, I look up Pickle Media and call.

But I’m too late. I’ve forgotten we’re two hours ahead of them and five o’clock here is seven there.

Why didn’t I do it sooner?

But I know. I was worried I would be embarrassed in front of Mom and Dad. That Court wouldn’t take my call. That Devin would sound sympathetic and sad for me.

Why didn’t I memorize his cell phone? I try to recall the digits, but I’ve never dialed them, only used the contact list. I don’t know them.

It’s Friday. I won’t get another chance to call him until Monday.

I curl up on my side around the roiling pressure in my belly. Sometime today or during the night, I’m going to become a mom.

A single mom.

Court feels a lifetime away.

I shouldn’t have gone.

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