Page 24 of Operator
Fear spears into me, and a greasy wave of nausea tightens my gut. I’ve never felt so fucking helpless in my life.
“Okay,” she says through gritted teeth. “It’s over. Yes, we can. Okay, we will. Thank you.” She doesn’t bother saying goodbye and ends the call. Her phone falls to her side, presumably into the door compartment as she reaches for the handle above her. “Pull up to the Women’s Center when you get there. They’ll meet us outside.”
“You got it,” I say.
Full dark has fallen, and it’s taking all of my concentration to weave through traffic safely and keep one eye on Gwen. My heart is pounding like a freight train in my chest. All I want is for her to be okay.
I don’t know what I’d do if something were to happen to her. She is my girl, always has been.
I’d break open the world if I lost her again.
Losing her would be like losing a part of myself.
I just didn’t realize what that meant until now.
The realization overwhelms me so completely that when she speaks again, I say, “What?”
“I’m pushing,” she whispers, almost as though she doesn’t believe it herself.
I blanch. “You’re what?”
“I’m pushing,” she repeats a little louder. Her words make my heart drop somewhere near my feet.
“Well, don’t do that,” I tell her, cursing underneath my breath. Of all the things I thought would happen when I came home, delivering Gwen’s baby was nowhere on the list.
If looks could kill. “Dammit, Cal, pull over. Pull over, please. Help me.”
I wish I could say I responded with something reassuring, but all that comes out is, “Shit.”
I shoot around a Civic and flip on my emergency lights. Whipping to the side of the road with one hand, I use the other to call 9-1-1. I may have emergency medical training for dressing wounds in the field, but I’m in no way qualified to deliver a fucking baby. My hands are shaking, my heart racing. I haven’t been this fucking scared in…maybe never.
“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”
“My girl’s about to deliver a baby on the side of the road.” I give them our location. I try for calm, but it comes out panicked.
While they relay instructions, I jerk open the passenger side door where Gwen is already shimmying out of her pants. She’s got one leg in and one leg out of the truck, and I don’t have time to think about anything other than this is happeningright fucking now. I help her remove the rest of her pants and throw them on the floor of the truck. She scoots down in the seat, one hand on the dash, the other white-knuckled on the seatbelt. She hadn’t been kidding.
“Fuck me, the baby’s coming,” I blurt out as Gwen moans again.
“Help me,” Gwen begs.
“I’ve got you,” I tell her. “I’ve got you.”
Her body seems to push on its own and then there’s a baby, wet and warm in my hands.
We make eye contact for a quick moment, Gwen half reclined in the passenger seat, legs bare, splayed and bloody, and me with the baby in my hands. Emotion swamps me and I find myself gasping for breath. The air between us is electrified by adrenaline, fear, and something else. Something I can’t quite identify. All I know is whatever there is between us is changed by this moment.
“Make sure it’s breathing,” the operator says, shocking me back to the present, and I break eye contact. I do as they say, but my hands are slippery and all I can think about is dropping the baby in the grass at my feet. “Rub its back. Make sure the airway is clear.”
There’s some sort of membrane covering its face, so in the blur of adrenaline, I pull it off. Fluid and blood cover my hands and soak all down my front. I flip the baby up and big blue eyes stare back up at me. Gwen’s eyes. I nearly drop the phone in shock but manage to pin it between my ear and shoulder.
“Are they okay?” I hear Gwen ask from a distance. Her voice is surprisingly calm, much calmer than mine. I can’t look at her because I need to make sure the baby is okay. They have to be okay. My heart is going to thud out of my chest. My knees may buckle.
“Are they breathing?” the operator asks.
I turn the squishy life over in my hands and rub their back. “C’mon, little one. Let us hear you cry. Don’t freak your mom out. C’mon.”
“I’m not freaked out, you’re freaked out.” Of course Gwen would give birth and immediately start giving me shit. I almost smile.
