“I don’t like the crows,” I muttered.
“Do they look frightening?”
“No,” I conceded. They just looked stupid – like Wade Davis with feathers.
Gabrielle stepped in front of me. Her emerald eyes studied me closely. “The things that scare us are never as daunting if you change the way you look at them.”
I pulled her in as close as I could without squashing her belly.
“You cannot be afraid of blue crows, Alex,” she added. “That would be nonsensical.”
Blue crows were nonsensical to begin with, but I was never going to win the argument, and knew better than to try. “It’s a nice theory, Gabs,” I said diplomatically.
“It’s proven fact.” She twisted in my arms. “I don’t like turtles. See the turtle in my picture? I made him purple. He’s not nearly as frightening when he’s purple.”
I studied the painting closely. She was right. There was nothing frightening about the purple turtle hanging out in the reeds near the beach, but I struggled to imagine him looking sinister in his natural brownish-grey state either.
“What do you have against turtles?”
“They’re slow and creep around like villains.” She scrunched up her pretty face. “I do not like them, Alex.”
I smiled at her. “Unless they’re purple.”
“Exactly.” Her perfect giggle was soft and demure. “Perfectly harmless when purple.”
Only Gabrielle could find inspiration in the things that creep us out. If she’d told me her plan of memorialising them on a wall in our son’s room I would’ve vetoed it in an instant.
My lack of vision is just one of the many reasons why I’d make a terrible artist. But Gabrielle, much like my daughter, had a knack for looking at the deeper picture.
8. WINNING
Our son had terrible timekeeping skills. He was two days overdue and wasn’t showing any signs of making an appearance. And I suspected his mother was close to losing her mind because of it.
The first hint came when she decided to sew curtains for the baby’s room.
Gabi was artistic and creative, but she was no mathematician. She’d somehow calculated that she’d need fifty metres of fabric to do it.
I nearly choked when I saw the massive bolt of striped fabric lying across the back seat of the car.
“How did you lift this?” I asked, throwing it over my shoulder.
“I didn’t,” she replied. “The saleslady did.”
“I hope you paid her extra, Gabs.”
“It will not go to waste,” she declared, trailing behind me as we walked to the house. “I shall use the rest to accessorise.”
I expected that meant cushions or something similar. The reality was a little different. I arrived home from work the next afternoon to an overload of red and white stripes.
“What do you think?” asked Gabi, meeting me at the door.
I slipped my arm around her and took a long look around. “Ah, it looks great.”
That was a lie. It looked like a circus tent. Red and white striped lounge room curtains were never going to be a good look.
Gabi grabbed my hand and slowly led me toward the kitchen. “Come and see the rest,” she ordered.
“There’s more?”
“Yes, I found a use for all of it.”
She wasn’t kidding. The kitchen looked worse. Not only were the curtains striped, the tablecloth was too.
“You’ve been busy, Gabs.”
“I have,” she beamed proudly. “It took me all day.”
I leaned down and kissed her. It was the most encouragement I could offer. All I could hope was that once the baby arrived, I’d get my classy, design-savvy Marseillaise princess back and she’d do away with the hideous décor.
***
The craziness continued the next day.
Gabrielle called me at the café to let me know she was heading to Sorell for a day of shopping. I felt a little more comfortable with the idea once she told me she was taking Floss for company – right up until she mentioned that Jasmine was going too.
“You can’t stand Jasmine,” I reminded.
“But I like shopping, Alex,” she protested.
I was too flummoxed to argue with her. I made her promise to call me when she got there and told her to take it easy.
“Of course I will,” she replied. “I move slowly.”
***
Gabi’s idea of taking it easy differed from mine. When I walked through the door that afternoon, I could tell she’d been busy again.
The red and white striped table was perfectly set and I could smell something amazing cooking. How she’d managed that as well as a day of shopping was inconceivable. The only thing more mind-blowing was her appearance.
Gabrielle was beautiful. She had incredible elegance and grace, even when nine months pregnant. The woman standing at the stove looked a little…. different.
The bright pink stretchy dress she wore was horrid. It was short and tight and cheap. It made me wonder where Gabi had gone. And then I wondered if the pregnant streetwalker at the stove knew how to cook.
After a long moment of deliberation, I decided not to question it. I walked over and wrapped my arms around her from behind.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, twisting to look at me.
I kissed her gently and she kissed me back – Gabi-style, not cheap hooker-style.
“I was trying to be quiet,” I teased. “In case you were sleeping.”
“I don’t sleep.”
I kissed her again. “I know.”
***
Dinner wasn’t the quiet and romantic affair it usually was when Gabi added candles to the table setting. She talked a mile a minute, non-stop, mainly about her adventurous day shopping with Floss and the chief Beautiful.
I barely got a word in, which was fine. The coq au vin was Gabi-style too, which meant I was happy to stay quiet and eat.
“Jasmine took us to this big store.” She animatedly threw her arms wide. “They sell everything, Alex. Floss got some new shoes. They cost fifteen dollars.” She sounded totally bewildered by the notion, and I knew why.
Décaries grow up differently to most people. They’re privileged and advantaged, and generally pretty sheltered because of it. As a result, bargain basement department stores were a mystery to Gabrielle.
“Fifteen dollars?” I asked, trying my hand at sounding impressed.
“Yes,” she crowed. “For both of them!”
I tried masking my laugh by speaking again. “I’m glad you had fun.”
Gabi set her fork down on her plate leaned back in the chair. “We walked a long way. I was sure baby was going to come.” She patted her belly. “But he didn’t. He’s not going anywhere.”
I reached across and splayed my hand across her belly. “He’ll come when he’s ready,” I told her.
“He can stay a while longer,” she replied. “I don’t feel fat today.”
I withdrew my hand and straightened up, studying her errant grin. Replying to a comment like that took serious preparation. The look on her face made it even scarier territory.
Mercifully, she cut me some slack by explaining. “Jasmine taunted me all day with stupid fat jibes. I wanted to whack her, Alex.”
I frowned, more than a little annoyed. Jasmine took digs at Gabi the same way she’d tormented Charli over the years – slyly and subtly. It was unoriginal, tiresome and completely unwarranted considering they were both heavily pregnant. “Just ignore her, Gabs. She’ll come unstuck eventually.”
Her pretty grin broadened. “She did come unstuck. It was fabulous.”
I didn’t interrupt as she told me the tale. There wasn’t any need for encouraging interjections. Gabrielle had finally had a win.
The big store that sold fifteen-dollar shoes also had a clothes section. Jasmine took a liking to an ugly cheap pink dress and took off to the fitting room to try it on.
“I went with her,” announc
ed Gabi, sounding like a female Inspector Clouseau. “It didn’t fit her. She was nearly crying when she came out.”
“Did you put your arm around her a give her a cuddle to cheer her up?” I asked wryly.
“Definitely not.” Her wicked laugh made me smile. “It was a size twelve. I wanted to whack her for being so delusional.”
“You had a lot of whacking urges today, Gabs,” I noted. “I’m glad you held back.”
“I gave her a metaphorical whack,” she replied. “I snatched the dress from her and went and tried it on myself.” Gabi slid her chair back and levered herself to her feet. “It fit me, Alex. I stretched it to the point of splitting, but it fit me.” She waved her hands around, showcasing her trashy frock. “I kept it on for the rest of the day, just to prove that I am the queen.”
I couldn’t keep my hands off her any longer. I pushed my chair back, reached across and pulled her into my lap. “Definitely the queen,” I murmured kissing her neck.
“It was the best moment of my life,” she said boldly.
I laughed at the absurdity. “The best moment?”
Gabi linked her hand around my neck and took a moment to think things through. “Well, perhaps not the best. The custard tart I had for afternoon tea was the best. It was wonderful.”
***
The ugly dress didn’t last much longer than dinner. Gabi retreated to the bedroom to change into something more comfortable and less trashy, and I stole a few minutes in the shed.
I hadn’t been in there for a while. The ocean had been off limits in the last few days and the sight of my boards tormented me.
Being in the water was akin to being on another planet. Gabi had no way of contacting me while I was out there so for now, surfing was off the agenda.
As soon as I switched the light on at the doorway I noticed that Gabrielle’s interior design makeover extended further than the house. The window of my manly, dirty, spider-riddled shed was now sporting red and white striped curtains.
I couldn’t even begin to imagine how she’d managed to hang them on her own. Then I realised I probably didn’t want to know. I pulled the door closed and headed back to the house.
Gabi met me at the door, looking much more like herself with the exception of my oversized coat draped around her shoulders. “I was coming out to get you,” she said.
I took the coat off her and hung it back on the hook. “I was only gone a minute.”
“I need that coat,” she replied.
I frowned at her. “Are you going somewhere, Gabs?”
“We both are,” she calmly explained. “I think my waters have just broken.”
I took a quick moment to study her pretty face. I’d seen a million expressions from her in the past few months, but this one was new – a lovely mix of panic and excitement. I took her face in my hands and softly kissed her lips. “We’re having a baby tonight, Gabs,” I whispered. “Are you ready?”
My hands moved with her as she nodded. “Yes,” she confirmed, sounding totally unsure. “I think so.”
9. BEST LAID PLANS
Expecting the baby to arrive that night was ambitious. Not much happened throughout the night, and by dawn Gabi’s contractions were still a long way apart.
The labour ward looked like a hotel room. The only reminder that it was a hospital came from the odd pieces of equipment that looked out of place against the fancy décor.
I got the impression our time spent in there wasn’t going to be as relaxing as a hotel stay. Agitation set in early. Calming myself down was impossible, but I tried to play it down by pacing back and forth to the window.
“What can you see, Alex?” asked Gabi.
The view of the car park was nothing special but the horizon beyond it was spectacular.
“The sun is coming up.” I turned back to face her. “It’s really special.”
The sunrise wasn’t the only lovely thing in sight. Gabrielle lay on the bed, propped up by too many pillows. She looked so beautiful, and calmer than I’d seen her in months.
“A silver dawn?” she asked.
I turned my attention back to the outside view. The dark clouds were shifting, allowing the bright sun to bleed through the cracks. The blackened winter clouds melded with the bright sun, creating the perfect mix of silver. It was a brilliant example of a silver dawn.
“It is silver. Do you want to see it?” I made my way back over to the bed. “I’ll help you to the window.”
She shook her head, and settled further back in the pillows. “No. I’m too tired. I want to rest before the pain starts again.”
Her level of fatigue troubled me. The girl who’d been moving a mile a minute for months was finally slowing down, on the worst possible day.
I swept my hand through her hair. “Are you okay?” I asked gently. “You have a long way to go today.”
Her smile was slight but lit her whole face. “I’m fine. I don’t want you to worry about a thing.”
I thought I’d been playing it cool. Gabrielle wasn’t supposed to know that I was anxious. I wanted her to think I was collected and perfectly in control.
“I’m not worried,” I lied. “I’m just excited.”
She blinked a few times as if she was having trouble staying awake. I encouraged her to sleep. Meeting our baby was probably still hours away. A few hours sleep seemed like a good idea.
“I don’t want to sleep,” she protested, closing her eyes again. “I want you to talk to me.”
I pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down beside her. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Tell me you love me,” she mumbled.
I brought her hand to my lips and kissed her fingers. “I do, you know,” I confirmed. “More than I’ll ever be able to explain.”
“I love you, Alex,” she whispered. “More than art and books.”
Her declaration made me laugh. There was no greater achievement than being loved more than art and books.
I kissed her hand again. “I love you more than the ocean,” I countered.
She turned her head, laying her cheek on the pillow, opening her bright green eyes to look at me. “Then I had everything.”
“Have, Gabs,” I corrected. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Her English diction sometimes wavered when she was tired or angry. I usually didn’t correct her, but it unsettled me so much that I couldn’t let it pass.
Gabrielle smiled, either unruffled by the correction, or too tired to argue with me. “Tell me about the silver dawn. What does it look like?”
I glanced in the direction of the window. “I can’t see it from here.”
She pulled her hand away, breaking my hold on her. “Go to the window and tell me,” she instructed. “Please. I want to know.”
I did as she asked because I would’ve done anything for her. It had been that way for a very long time. I took a long look out the window before speaking, trying to think of how to adequately describe it. “The clouds are heavy,” I began. “But the sun is winning. It’s getting brighter every second, like a big silver blanket in the sky.”
“It sounds lovely.”
I turned at the sound of her voice, mainly because it sounded tiny and so far away. “It truly is.”
“Keep talking, Alex,” said Gabi weakly. “Tell me more.”
There really wasn’t any new information to give her but I turned back to the window and tried. “Our baby’s first sunrise will be your first too.”
“You’ve shown me sunrises before.”
“But not as a mother, Gabs,” I told her. “You’ll be in virgin territory tomorrow.”
She didn’t answer me so I turned back to see if she was sleeping. I could tell just by looking at her that things weren’t right. Her head had dropped to her shoulder and her eyes were closed.
In the blink of an eye something had gone horribly wrong. I don’t remember walking back to the bed but I somehow got there. I laid my hand over Gabi’s but couldn’t feel he
r touch me back.
She wasn’t sleeping. She was gone.
The constant thrumming that rang out in the corridor as I smashed my thumb down on the buzzer wasn’t enough. My yell for help was much louder.
Hannah appeared first. Her cheery smile that she’d greeted us with earlier was gone. She was all business now as she moved to the head of the bed and thumped her hand down on the emergency bell.
Within seconds, people flooded the room and for the first time in my life I heard the word ‘crashed’ used to describe a person’s condition. I stepped further and further back from the bed, but couldn’t get far enough away from what I was seeing.
Someone lowered the bed to a flat position. A doctor moved to Gabi’s side and began CPR. He didn’t look panicked. He looked perfectly calm as he rhythmically moved, compressing her chest over and over again. “Perimortum delivery pack, please,” he ordered, still remarkably calmly. “Right now.”
I had no idea what that was, but it sounded dismal. It was then that my terror amplified to a level I could no longer cope with. My heart was thumping through my chest, driven by pure fear because Gabi’s had stopped. I’m sure it wasn’t the loudest noise in the room, but all I could hear was the sound of the bag-valve being depressed as they forced breath into her. “Help her.” My weak demand came out caught in a choked sob. “Please.”
No one seemed to hear me, probably because every single person in the room was doing their level best to do exactly that.
I took one more step backward, slamming my back against the wall next to the window. I turned my head, taking one last glance out at the silver dawn. The sun was still rising, gaining strength and light.
I looked back to the woman I loved, artificially moving as they relentlessly pressed down on her chest. Her light and strength had gone, taking my life with it.
10. MAKING DEALS
Whoever said that we’re never sent more than we can handle is a liar. I couldn’t handle the horror I’d been burdened with that morning.
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