Page 60 of Abstract Passion

“I wondered as much,” she says. “Right now, it isn’t so bad. Like a barely noticeable ache.” Her hand paints small circles over her belly while she sips her drink. “This has helped.”

“Then I guess we wait.” I shrug. “If it starts back up, we time it and make note.” I lay my hand over hers on her belly. Lace our fingers together and help soothe her discomfort. “Until then, maybe we just take it easy. Sit on the couch, under the blanket, and watch a movie in the dark.” I kiss her cheek. “In a few hours, I’ll make breakfast. Sound good?”

“Perfect.”

* * *

I add eggs to each of our plates already filled with sausage, hash browns, and toast. Setting forks on each plate, I carry them to the living room and hand one to Shelly, who has made a makeshift table with a throw pillow on her belly.

We dive into our breakfast while a Passionflix movie plays on the television.

When Shelly added the Passionflix app to the Apple TV, I asked what the channel was all about. She’d said,“It’s all my favorite romance books coming to life.”

I have yet to read any of the countless romance books on her shelf, but perhaps I should check them out. See what all the fuss is about. The movies have been interesting and lovely, but the book is always better.

Over the last few hours, nothing new has happened. No more tightness. No urgent need for the bathroom. So, we have taken it easy. Rested in each other’s arms and occasionally drifted off. Perhaps it was false labor. Books state false labor—Braxton-Hicks contractions—is one way the body prepares for the big day. Kind of like a delivery practice drill.

Whatever it is, I hope it passes until the real time occurs. Last thing we need is a scare after things have been so good.

When our plates empty, I take them to the kitchen and clean up. Just as I place the last pan into the dishwasher, Shelly wanders in. I open my mouth to tell her I was on my way back. That she could have waited and I would have gotten whatever she needs.

But I don’t say a word. Not when I scan her head to toe and take all of her in.

One hand braces the edge of the kitchen counter while the other rubs back and forth in rapid strokes on her belly. Her lips trapped between her teeth as her jaw works back and forth. The space between her brows wrinkled and tight.

And I know this is it.

Earlier was a drill. Like a like tremor before an earthquake. Like the warning winds and rain before the hurricane makes landfall.

But this is no longer a drill. It’s go time.

“Talk to me, Shell.”

“It’s like before.” She closes her eyes for a breath then holds my greens captive. “But stronger. Tighter. More intense.”

“Did it just start?”

She nods. “A minute after you walked out of the room.”

“Okay,” I say, calmer than I feel. “Let’s get the hospital bag and leave.”

In the bedroom, Shelly puts on a pair of pajama pants before grabbing her phone from the charger. I trade my sweats for jeans and tug a shirt over my head. I grab us each socks from the dresser. We slip on socks and shoes at the door. Shelly fetches her purse from the hook while I shoulder the hospital bag.

Slowly, we make our way to the car. A minute later, I pull out of the neighborhood and aim the car west toward the hospital. Traffic isn’t too bad yet, but may pick up the longer we’re on the road.

At a red light, I turn to face Shelly. Her eyes forward as she takes slow, measured breaths. Her hands massage her belly from back to front, occasionally switching positions.

“Doing okay?” I ask, feeling like a fool the moment the words hit the air.What a stupid question. Of course, she isn’t okay. The baby is trying to evacuate the womb. No way she isn’t in some kind of pain. I sure as hell would be.

“Okay,” she says between breaths. “But it’s becoming more intense.”

Sweat licks my temples as she says the words. I did this. I put her in this position. It is me who is responsible for her pain. Me, not her.

Give her pain to me.

If only it were so simple.

The city passes in a blur of fast-driving cars and a blend of residential and commercial buildings. Now isn’t the time to take in scenery. Now isn’t the time to observe sights and smells and places to visit in the future.

---