Page 33 of The Wrong Track

“Nothing! He doesn’t see my underwear.” I was going to say more, too, like telling her to get the fuck out of my drawers, but another huge pain gripped me and I felt like there was something wrong in the underwear that I currently had on. When the pain passed, I peeked down there, and it was…blood.

“I’m bleeding,” I croaked out. “I shouldn’t be bleeding.”

Lulu came back holding Tobin’s gym bag. “It’s probably the bloody show.”

“What?”

She stared at me. “Don’t you know anything? It’s totally normal.”

“It is?”

“I’m going to get you different underwear. The new ones will also be ugly but at least they’ll be clean. Pretty soon, you’ll have to be naked in front of everyone anyway.”

“What?”

She trotted to my room and got a new pair, and in a moment of utter humiliation, she had to help me put them on. “Bloody show,” she dismissed as she tossed away the former ones. “How far apart are your contractions? Did your water break?”

I shook my head, not even able to talk.

“Listen, at least four women do this every second,” she said. “That’s two hundred fifty-eight every hour. If they can pop out their kids, then you probably can, too.”

“No. I can’t do this,” I told her. “I’m leaving, I’m moving away. I’m not going to the hospital.”

“You don’t have a choice. It’s what’s called ‘nature,’” she explained. “If it’s in there, it has to come out. Didn’t you ever take a science class? What do they teach in school to these kids? Oh, I hear a car.”

It was Tobin and his partner and they both rushed in, but I reached for him. I knew him and he was safe. I felt strongly that he could make this ok, like he did when he came in after a nightmare. He didn’t touch me or do anything but sit on the edge of the bed so that I knew he was there, and that was perfect.

“She’s saying she won’t go to the hospital,” Lulu announced.

“Yes,” he told me, “we’re going. Where’s your bag?”

“No, no, this isn’t supposed to happen until May—or the end of April—not the end but the middle. Close to the middle and I have plenty of time,” I tried to argue, as more pain swept through me. “This isn’t right. I don’t need to go anywhere.”

“The baby’s coming a little early but that’s ok,” he said. He took my hand and I gripped it, unable to speak. “Was that a contraction?”

“Yeah, it was,” his partner told him. “I’ll drive.”

Between the three of them, they got me to walk to the car, slowly and breathing hard. Tobin contrived to crawl into the back seat and for some reason, Lulu got in next to him. Bill sat me in the front. As we pulled out, two police cars joined us, one in front and one behind. We drove with them escorting us with flashing lights.

“Your contractions are too close together,” Tobin said. “We should have gone to the hospital sooner. It’s the 5-1-1 rule.”

“They’re less than two minutes apart,” Lulu noted calmly. “I bet she’s totally effaced and dilated.”

I wasn’t paying very much attention to anything anyone said, though, because I was in the process of dying. I ground my teeth as another pain gripped me.

“Hang on, Remy. We’ll be there soon.” Tobin rested his hand on my shoulder and I grabbed it, holding on as hard as I could. The sirens wailed outside the car and I just held on.

Things turned into a blur at the hospital. They were getting me out of the car and I was trying to pull away, and then I was on a gurney, again, and they were tugging at my pants, cutting them.

“Stop it! Stop ruining his clothes!” I tried to fight them off. “Stop touching me! No. No! No!”

“We’re helping you,” someone explained, but there was such pressure inside me that I froze and then—

“We’re not getting her upstairs,” someone else announced and more people seemed to appear and run around, there was chaos and noise and strangers with their hands on my body. My nightmare was real; it was happening again, and there was nothing I could do to control any of it.

“It’s ok,” Tobin told me, and someone else said to push. They ordered me to do that, and I did what they said and prayed for it to be over.

∞

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