The Serpentine Butterfly

by Addison Moore

  “He is beautiful, indeed, Ms. Messenger.” Marshall gives my wrist a light tap, and I pull his hand forward and kiss it.

  “Thank you,” I mouth. I’m so thrilled Marshall arrived just in time to witness my miracle.

  Our miracle. He corrects, and I can’t help but nod.

  The nurse holds a pair of scissors toward Logan. “Would you like to cut the cord?”

  “Yes,” I tell him. “Please, Logan.” I’m pleading with him to do this. “It would mean everything to me if you would. You were here for me when I needed you the most. I’d much rather it be you than”—I nod toward the nurse and my mother who are busy wiping down the baby, mumbling about his excellent Apgar scores.

  “Okay.” Logan takes the scissors and follows the nurse’s command. With a wince and a pained smile, he squeezes the blades over the cord, and just like that, it’s severed. My hand cradles my sweet son’s back. His skin is warm and silky to the touch. There. Logan has done the precious deed, and now my heart will forever walk around the planet outside of my body in the form of this beautiful child. I land a soft kiss to his thick black hair, and my heart melts with an agonizing delight.

  The door whooshes open, letting in an iced breeze, and standing over the threshold is a familiar, dark-haired, dimpled newly-minted daddy. His hair is shorter, he’s fresh shaven, wearing an inky navy suit, and below his left eye is a bloody gash that is quickly bruising.

  Gage has finally bothered to show up.

  Love Grows

  GAGE

  “Skyla.” I rush over. My aching legs move with nothing more than sheer willpower. Skyla’s beautiful limbs are spread wide, her pale, naked body exposed for all to see—but my focus, my heart spears at the sight of a tiny baby lying prone on her chest. The room dissipates. It might as well dim because the white-hot spotlight of my attention is on that precious little being.

  “Oh God.” My voice breaks as I make my way to Skyla. Logan moves, and I take my rightful place by her side.

  “Gage!” Lizbeth screams and claps up a storm. Behind her Ellis and Giselle sit in the corner, huddled and murmuring to themselves in a fright-induced frenzy.

  “You have a son.” Skyla hands me the baby, light as a feather, still naked and raw from her womb. The baby—my son—has a head full of hair—and dimples. A lone tear falls from my face to his, and I wipe it with my thumb. He’s soft as silk, and his cry sounds like an idea more than an instigation. I swallow hard, looking to my beautiful wife, her swollen ruby lips. Her damp hair sticks to the sides of her face as if she’s just fought a war.

  “I’m so proud of you.” My heart shatters when I say it because I wasn’t here to witness the event myself.

  The nurse swoops in. “This will just take a second.” She takes him from me for a moment, rubbing him down with a sponge and wrapping him tight in a blanket.

  Logan pulls me in and offers a deep, heartfelt hug. “Congratulations, man.” He sniffs the words into my neck. “He’s truly beautiful.”

  He sets the scissors down, and I try to evict the image of him cutting the cord—knowing he was the one who was here for Skyla, not me. My mind fails to wrap itself around the impossibility of it all.

  “I was detained.” It’s all my stupid mouth can offer. If I told Skyla my theory on what really happened, I’m not too sure she’d appreciate it.

  “Detained?” a voice gruffs across from me.

  I glance up to find Dudley with a smug look on his face, and now I feel like twice the ass I did a second ago.

  “Yes, detained.” I suddenly have the urge to kill him. I want to love my son and my wife, perhaps punch then hug Logan, but I most definitely want to kill Dudley. In all of this madness, how is he here? It’s as if Candace is sending me a message. Even Dudley is permitted. She’s not entirely Team Logan. She still has room for one more. It’s just not me.

  Skyla’s mouth opens to say something before she bucks violently forward, chin to her chest.

  “It’s a big one!” Lizbeth shouts. “Don’t worry, Skyla. This is just the placenta. It’s not like your little boy brought along a friend or anything.” She gives a hearty laugh while patting Skyla on the foot.

  “Don’t push yet,” the nurse calls just as Dr. Baxter walks into the room. He’s a touch too tan with a patina of Oompa Loompa, and his teeth are bleached white as lightning.

  “I see you didn’t wait to start the party!” His stab at humor is met with his own laughter. He gloves up and evicts the nurse from her seat. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” He plunges his fingers into my wife for all to see, and I recoil, closing my eyes a moment, trying to erase the image from memory. “Beautiful, beautiful. So beautiful,” he moans as if he’s having a damn good time down there. “The head’s dropped. We’ll wait out a contraction before we resume pushing.”

  “What?” Lizbeth bounces off her stool. “Oh my God! Skyla!” She grips her hair and spins in a circle. “This is fucking unbelievable!”

  For a brief moment, Skyla, Logan, and I freeze. Lizbeth isn’t known to toss around the expletives.

  My hand finds Skyla’s, but her eyes are glued on Logan as he helps her breathe in rhythm, soothing her with that soulful look in his eyes—holding out a finger as if to alert her to the fact it’s going to end soon.

  “Gage?” Skyla looks to our conjoined hands, horrified as if I’ve just put a dead fish in her palm. “You’re not working!” She lets out a groan of disbelief. “Where are the feel-good vibes when you need them? Why?” She cries toward the ceiling. I’m assuming that last question was for Candace. And since Dudley isn’t lying on top of her, I take it he’s not in a vibratory state of mind either. I suppose we both have Skyla’s mother to thank for that.

  The doctor probes freely again. His hand lodged between her legs is a sight I can never get used to. Shit.

  Skyla lets out a wounded cry.

  “Give me the epidural now. I’m ready,” she pleads, her voice threadbare and worn thin just as her will seems to be. The last time I saw her so depleted, begging for mercy, was at the hands of the Counts after a spontaneous blood drive. Skyla is hurting. She needs me—hell, she needed me, and I couldn’t do a thing about it. Until now.

  “Give her the damn medicine!” My voice cuts across the room, sharp and intrusive, causing Dr. Bastard, the angry nurse, and Lizbeth to pause a moment and glare at me. The baby cries a little louder from the incubator.

  “It’s too late.” The nurse clicks her tongue. “We don’t give epidurals once you start pushing.”

  “I’ll stop,” Skyla volunteers.

  “No, sweetie.” Lizbeth tries to coax Skyla back from the ledge. “You’re doing so great. Only a little bit more. You’re a super mom, Skyla.” Tears are running down her cheeks, quick as a river. “I can’t believe you held this from me.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Skyla weeps into her words.

  “No”—Lizbeth shakes her head with a tear-soaked smile—“this is the best surprise ever.”

  “Skyla,” Logan says it sweetly and glances to the monitor as he begins on an exaggerated long breath.

  “Push with this one,” the doctor insists, and Skyla bears down, letting a scream curdle from her throat, drowning out the sound of the sweet baby now nestled in Dudley’s arms. Okay, I take it back. I no longer want to kill him. When my son needed someone to hold him, he was there, and that’s enough for me to forgive a lifetime of indiscretions.

  Skyla takes a gulping breath and bears down once again—her face turns pink, then purple. A solid roar comes from her as I see a dark cap of hair bursting through, then quickly a shoulder or two.

  “Father?” The doctor looks from me to Logan. “Would you like to do the honors?”

  “Yes.” I carefully reach down and extract the tiny, slippery being from under its arms and land it safely onto Skyla’s belly.

  Skyla looks up at me and smiles while trying to catch her breath. My entire body fills with joy and light, with a warmth that only true love can br
ing. All of the anxiety, all of the angst that today had brought has effectively dissolved now that my children are both here safe and sound.

  The nurse suctions the baby, and it begins to bleat a velvet cry.

  Lizbeth claps up a storm. “Tell us what it is, Gage!”

  I gently lift a leg. “It’s a boy!” I shout. And there is no greater feeling.

  The room erupts in cheers with even Ellis and Giselle blinking back to life.

  “Congratulations.” Dudley gives a sincere nod my way as he places a tender kiss to the baby in his arms.

  “Two baby boys,” Skyla pants through a smile, pulling the tiny infant to her own lips. “We did it.” She looks to me with sheer exhaustion, sheer delight.

  “And it looks like baby number two was born at 12:04!” the nurse belts it out like they were winning lottery numbers. “That means you had two baby boys on two separate days!”

  “Are they fraternal? Identical?” Lizbeth is frantic while cooing at the tiny angel in Marshall’s arms.

  “Fraternal,” the doctor volunteers.

  Logan leans into Skyla, accidentally dislodging my fingers from hers.

  “Good job. I love you.” He lands a kiss to her temple before pulling me into a hug. “Glad you made it.”

  “Thank you for being here.” I swallow down my pride. “Thank you all for being here.”

  The nurse hands me the scissors this time. The baby’s cord has been its life link for eight and a half months—leashed to the woman I love. Carefully, I open the blades and clamp down to where she points. It’s a little tougher than I thought, but I power through, and within seconds, the precious cord is severed. My heart pinches knowing that they’re finally here—out in the world without the shroud of Skyla’s womb to protect them. Skyla and I will need to take care of these two angelic beings all on our own. It’s horrifically daunting, and at the same time, I’m ecstatic to do it.

  “Gage.” Skyla shrugs with a smile trembling on her lips. She struggles to pull up the covers while Giselle helps adjust her gown. “We had one on my birthday and one on yours. Happy birthday!” She wipes her tears away—tears of immense joy and perhaps a touch of sorrow that I missed part one of the most important acts of our lives.

  “I can’t think of a better gift—two perfect little boys and a perfect wife.”

  The nurse wraps him up tight like a burrito and hands him to me. Dudley comes over and tries to do the same with the other baby.

  “I can’t. I’ll drop them.” I’m scared shitless. All these months of listening to Lizbeth tell us how fast this moment would come—and now it’s impossible to believe it’s actually here. I knew twins came early. It was damn foolish of me to even think of leaving Skyla’s side this morning. What was supposed to be a half-hour detour from our well-orchestrated day together turned into an emotional scar for both my firstborn and me—not to mention Skyla.

  “You’ll do fine.” Lizbeth takes the baby from Dudley and helps lay him in the crook of my other arm while Giselle incoherently mumbles through tears, snapping away pictures with her phone.

  “Dude, I have to tell everyone.” Ellis takes off.

  Here they are, both safe in my arms—so soft, so light I wonder if this is all a dream.

  “My boys.” My chest rumbles with pleasure. Tears blur my vision, and I lose it. My boys. I lean over and kiss the baby Lizbeth placed in my arms, then switch to the younger of the two. As my lips connect with his tiny, soft forehead, an image of Wes rips through my mind. Then the heart of one you hold dear will turn against you—and everything you think you stand for.

  My pulse quickens, my skin bites with heat, and, for a brief moment, I’m physically ill.

  “Here, let me.” Lizbeth takes one baby, then the other, and her face literally glows with pride. “Hello, you two! It’s Mee-Maw!”

  Skyla and I give a slight chuckle. Before we know it, the room explodes with everyone bursting through the door at once. My parents give us a round of congratulatory hugs as everyone takes turns cooing over the tiny princes.

  “Two?” Mom gasps as if she’s just realized there was an extra baby in the room.

  Ellis slaps me on the shoulder. “That was your surprise, dude, not mine. I just told them that Skyla did her part.”

  “Good job, man.” I turn from Ellis and rest a hand on each of my parents’ shoulders as if to stabilize them. “Twins. Two sweet baby boys.”

  The room erupts in elations once again. Every single person is full of joy. Even Skyla’s sisters are hugging it out and crying. Then there’s Tad.

  “Twins?” He looks affronted as if we planned this just to further syphon off his resources. “You were trying too hard!”

  We weren’t trying at all, but that’s beside the point.

  Lizbeth shakes it off with a laugh. “That just means he has excellent aim.” She offers a sly wink my way.

  Did we really just go there?

  “Thank you, I think.”

  “What are their names?” Brielle asks while taking a baby from Lizbeth and sniffing him. “God, I love new baby smell! I like want to have ten of these!”

  Skyla and I exchange a quick glance. We’ve volleyed names a few times, but there were too many combinations to settle on.

  Skyla sits up in bed. “We’ll let you know soon. I think both Gage and I want to spend a moment with them before settling on anything.”

  Beau Geste demands to climb up Bree’s leg, and she hands the baby back to Lizbeth.

  Bree comes in close, wielding Beau like a weapon, and he smiles at Skyla. “I picked you a flower with my toes.” He hands her a balding dandelion.

  “Oh my goodness, thank you!” Skyla’s eyes are still tear filled from holding the twins, and yet, she seems genuinely grateful of Beau’s gesture.

  “My body makes brown playdough,” he says it so matter-of-factly I’m afraid for him. I make a note of picking up actual playdough to gift the poor kid.

  Brielle nudges him.

  “And lemonades.” He holds up a chubby finger as if to annunciate this point.

  “And lemonade.” Bree nods, proud. “Don’t let anyone tell you I don’t teach you nothin’!”

  I bend over and pat him on the head. “Remember, don’t drink the lemonade. And I wouldn’t mess with the playdough either.”

  Dudley kisses Skyla good night before shaking his head with disappointment my way. “What’s the expression—you had one job?”

  “It was out of my control.” I subdue a moment of joy to properly growl at him.

  He ticks his head to the side as if evaluating this from a spiritual point of view. He glances to the babies, and his face takes on a somber expression.

  “I see.” He gives a slight nod. “Enjoy your family, Gage. I’m very happy for you both.” He takes off, and I’m too stunned to move. Dudley just said my name and was uncharacteristically kind.

  One by one the room clears out with everyone offering an outpouring of congratulations and sheer joy at our expanding family.

  Giselle comes in. “Happy birthday, big brother. I’m so in love with my new nephews! They’re much better than dolphins.” She gives a little wink. “You’re going to get sick of me because I’m going to be around those precious little angels all the time. Get it? Little angels?”

  “I get it.” I plant a kiss to the top of my sister’s head. “Thank you for being here tonight. Stay away from those special hugs. Do you see what they lead to?”

  “Very bad and bloody places.” She gives an aggressive nod. “Anyway, think of names quick. I want to know what to call them. Cutie Pie One and Cutie Pie Two are just temporary names for now.”

  “Got it. I love you, G.” I pull her in tight with tears still near the surface.

  “Love you, too, big brother.”

  Ellis gives an exhausted wave as they take off.

  Mom rocks the baby nestled in her arms. There’s a bright blue wristband on his foot that reads Baby One. The one in Lizbeth’s arms reads Baby Two.
I know they’re fraternal, but from this vantage point, they look identical, with the same dark caps of hair, same twitching dimples, and bright pink skin.

  “We might need to leave those on for a while, like years,” I say, running my finger over the tiny blue band. “Look at this,” I marvel, circling my hand around the ankle of the newborn in my mother’s arms, and I can’t stop smiling—can’t stop crying like a loon. “They’re so little,” I moan inwardly at the thought. They’re so fragile, so in need of every living detail to maintain their survival. It’s at that moment the gravity of what’s happened sinks in. Skyla and I are parents. These precious little boys are our charges for the next eighteen years and counting. They’ll need us just to survive. My gut cinches at the magnitude of what that means.

  Dad places his hand on my shoulder, warm and reassuring. “It’s going to be okay, son.”

  “You always know what to say.” I try to sniff back my emotions and fail miserably.

  “Not true.” His bushy brows peak over his glasses. “I don’t know what to properly call my grandchildren.”

  “The answer to that is on the way.” A dull laugh rumbles from me. “Tomorrow for sure.”

  Mom hands the baby to Skyla, and Lizbeth does the same. My wife is so beautiful with her arms full of love. Skyla has never been more perfect than this moment right here.

  “You did good.” Mom gives a slight tick of the head as she looks to Skyla. “This more than makes up for the fact you killed Charlie.” A muted laugh trembles through her.

  Crap.

  Skyla just shakes her head, unsure of what to say. She’s wiped out. I can see it in her eyes. Not even my mother can get a proper rise out of her.

  “Good night.” Dad gives her a kiss before escorting Mom out of the room.

  “Sorry,” I mouth.

  Tad grunts and moans as Misty claws at his neck. “I think she’s trying to kill me.” He tries to pluck her off his chest, but Misty is insistent as she laughs up a storm. Her hands clamp violently over his throat as she shakes her velvet black hair back and forth. “See this? She’s going for the jugular!”