by Amanda Dick
Bridget smiled, reaching over to put an arm around his shoulder and give him a squeeze. “There’s no way of knowing, but I think we’ll be here a while.”
Alex leaned back in his seat, frowning. “How long’s a while?”
“Well, with Em it took about twelve hours. With you, about eight.”
I gaped at her. Twelve hours? In pain like that?
Right on time, the woman up the hall let out a guttural moan that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
Bridget cringed. “Poor love. Just as well it’s worth it in the end.”
Jesus, it’d better be.
She was grinning at me, her eyes crinkling with merriment. I frowned at her.
“Your face,” she giggled, although she was trying not to.
“How can you laugh at a time like this?” I snapped.
She sighed. Indulgently, like you do with children. It made me even angrier.
“Childbirth is such a privilege,” she said patiently. “It changes your life. Your body is torn apart, but your heart is suddenly stronger and yet more vulnerable at the same time. The pain is part of the journey. Nothing worth having is easy.”
She looked wistful, pulling Alex closer and leaning her head on his shoulder. He let her, to his credit, which was a big concession for him. The past few days had definitely made an impact on him.
“I remember thinking, with both my babies, that I would miss being pregnant. I would miss that connection, feeling their little body inside of mine. It was me and my baby against the world, and once they were born, I worried about losing that. But when the baby’s born, you’re so busy loving them and caring for them and getting to know them as the wonderful little human beings they are, you don’t get a chance to miss them. You just get used to sharing them.”
Maia squeezed my hand, and I looked over at her. She had tears in her eyes. I knew what she was thinking.
What if I’m her baby?
With each new day, it became more obvious that the pain of not knowing where she fit in the world was bearing down on her. Being surrounded by birth and death and love and loss was only reminding her of what she might be missing out on.
“She’s going to be fine,” Bridget said quietly.
It took me a moment to realise she was talking about Jas. “Yeah. Of course she is.”
I wondered how Vinnie was holding up.
MAIA WAS ASLEEP, SPRAWLED across the three chairs to my right. Her hair was pooled behind her, one hand tucked under her chin. She looked beautiful, even in this light. I stood across the room, leaning against the wall, on my third cup of coffee. It had been five hours and still no sign of the new arrival. Jas must be exhausted.
The screamer down the hall had finally given birth an hour ago, and they’d moved her and baby to another room. One other woman had been admitted, but there wasn’t much action from her yet.
Vinnie had come out a couple of times for a break, and Bridget had gone in to be with Jas. He was tired and scared. He said Jas wasn’t acting like herself. He said she was in a lot of pain, demanding an epidural, even though that wasn’t in her birth plan. When he reminded her of that, she swore at him. Like a sailor. I’d never even heard Jas swear before, but Vinnie said she came out with a few words that had even made him cringe.
The woman up the hall had nothing on Jas. She’d been screaming like a banshee for half an hour. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take of this. I sure as hell didn’t know how Maia could sleep through it all, but I was jealous that she could. I was on tenterhooks.
Alex had taken a walk down to the cafeteria to see if he could find us some food, so I sat down beside Bridget. She put her arm around me and leaned her head on my shoulder.
“I think the waiting is the hardest part,” she said quietly, so as not to disturb Maia.
Jas let out another yell from down the hall.
“Or maybe the second hardest part.”
I took another sip of my coffee. I was about maxed out on the stuff. Any more and the ratio of caffeine to blood in my system would be nearing critical mass. I had to make this one last.
“Em was such a beautiful baby.”
I glanced down at her. I’d been wondering if this was bringing back memories for her.
“All soft blonde curls and big eyes,” she smiled. “But my favourite part of her was the little spot on the back of her neck. It was so soft and she smelled so good. I couldn’t stop kissing it.”
I reached down and set the coffee cup on the floor beside my chair and turned to her, pulling her into my arms. She settled her head into my neck and we sat there like that for a good few minutes in silence. I could feel the pain, seeping through her, into me. I had no idea what it was like to lose a child, but I imagine it’s like losing a part of yourself. I desperately wanted to ease that pain, tell her that it was possible – only possible – that Maia could in fact be Emily. I wanted to see the hope in her eyes again, because I hadn’t seen it there for so long.
But I didn’t want to cause her any more heartache. It was also possible that Maia was not Emily.
I drew away from her, and she wiped her eyes. I had no idea she’d been crying, but it didn’t surprise me.
“You okay?” I murmured. “Can I do anything?”
She shook her head, smiling through the tears. “Just memories. You know how it is.”
Yeah, I knew. I gave her another brief hug, then she settled in the chair beside me again, and we both stared at Maia, still sleeping on the chairs opposite us.
“She looks peaceful,” Bridget said, echoing my thoughts.
“She does. She hasn’t been sleeping well lately. I guess it just all caught up with her.”
I reached down and picked up my coffee again, cradling the cup in my lap.
“You two are perfect for each other.”
I looked over at her, my heart racing. It’s not that I’d been worried about what she thought, because she’d been so great about everything, and she liked Maia. I guess I just needed to hear her say it.
“She’s brought you back to us,” she said, meeting my eyes. “Because I know how much you’ve been hurting all these years, and I know how much you miss Em. But you need to move on now, and Maia arriving when she did was more than just coincidence, I’m sure of it. Sometimes, signs are just people who turn up right when you need them most. You just have to open your heart and your mind, and the possibilities are there.”
I swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in my throat. She had no idea, but I agreed with her now. Wholeheartedly.
I heard footsteps coming down the hallway and Alex appeared around the corner with a bag and a grin.
He waved the bag at us. “Score. Sandwiches, muffins and those big cookie things.”
Before we had a chance to respond, a yell erupted from the room down the hall, long and low. It didn’t even sound human. Then, seconds later, a baby wailed.
My heart felt like it was going to burst. I looked over at Maia, and she bolted upright. She stared at me, her eyes wide and frightened, as though she couldn’t remember where she was.
I started to pray silently.
Please let everything be okay. Please let everything be okay.
Minutes later, a door burst open down the hallway and I poked my head around the corner to see Vinnie lumbering slowly down the hall towards us. He was clearly exhausted, and he looked like he’d been crying.
“She’s here!” he cried, dissolving into my arms as he reached me. “She’s here and she’s perfect. She’s just perfect!”
“Is Jas alright?” I asked, refusing to be happy until I knew for sure everyone was going to be okay.
“She’s fine,” Vinnie sobbed, grabbing for my arm as I propped him up. “She’s sore, but she’s fine. She’s a fuckin’ superhero!”
“Oh darling!” Bridget cried, throwing herself into his arms as the three of us stood there in the hallway. “Congratulations!”
Alex clapped him on the back, grinni
ng with relief. “Congrats, Daddy! That’s awesome!”
“How heavy was she?” Bridget asked, wiping tears of joy from her cheek.
“I have no idea,” Vinnie said proudly. “But she’s tiny!”
Bridget laughed and Vinnie wiped his eyes, taking a deep, calming breath. I’d never seen him look so happy, or so relieved. My heart was pounding. The drama of the night seemed to hit me all at once, and now that I knew everything was going to be alright, I could finally allow myself to breathe.
Vinnie pulled me into a hug and I held on tight to him. My big brother was a father. It still seemed weird. Everything was going to change.
He pulled away from me, oblivious, but wearing the biggest smile I’d ever seen. “Come and see her. I want her to meet Uncle Heath.”
I couldn’t help it. I grinned like an idiot and we all followed him down the hallway into Jas’s room. She was sitting up in bed, cradling a small, tightly-wrapped bundle.
“Congratulations, love!” Bridget crooned, heading straight for her and giving her kiss on the forehead. “I’m so proud of you! You did so well.”
Jas looked exhausted. Her face was covered with a sheen of sweat, and her hair stuck to her forehead. Her usually perfectly-groomed blonde mane was tied up in a messy ponytail at the nape of her neck, and her cheeks glowed red. I’d never seen her so happy.
“She’s beautiful,” Bridget whispered, reaching into the bundle in Jas’s arms to touch the tiny red face.
I felt myself gravitating closer, and Bridget moved aside. Jas smiled up at me as I leaned over to kiss her cheek.
“Meet your niece,” she said. “She’s got a healthy set of lungs on her.”
I gazed down into the face of this little girl who was going to change everyone’s lives. It was hard to believe that just hours ago, she had kicked my hand from the inside of Jas’s belly. Now, she was here, with us, and Vinnie was right – she was so perfect.
I ran my fingertip across her cheek. Her skin was so soft and her eyes were closed tight, as if she was trying to sleep. I didn’t blame her. It must’ve been one hell of a ride, if the yelling was anything to go by. My fingertip looked huge compared to her tiny nose. Her hair was downy blonde, and there wasn’t much of it. I wondered what colour eyes she would have.
“Hi little one,” I said, a lump forming in my throat. I wished Henry was here to meet her, too.
Jas’s expression softened, as Vinnie came up behind me. “Thank you,” she said. “For everything.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I insisted. “You did all the hard work.”
She smiled over at Vinnie as he reached over me to gently lay his hand on his daughter’s head. He was completely smitten with her already.
“You kept him calm,” she said, looking back at me. “And you made sure we got here safely. And you all waited. Thank you.”
I shrugged. “As if we would leave.”
“Where’s Maia?” Vinnie asked, looking behind me.
I looked around. I’d assumed she’d followed us in here, but I realised now that she wasn’t in the room. Nor was Alex.
“I don’t know,” I said. “She must be out in the waiting room with Alex. Can I go bring them in?”
“Absolutely! I want them to meet Emily, too.”
Emily.
I faltered, but only for a moment. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“We’ll be right here,” Jas said, staring down at the face of her sleeping daughter in awe. I don’t think she could quite believe she was finally here, either.
I reluctantly left Bridget cooing over the three of them, and headed back down the hall to the waiting room. I felt lighter than I had in a long time. Things had begun to fall together, in the same way they had fallen apart. Suddenly, without warning. I actually felt like I was walking on air.
But the waiting room was empty. Maybe they’d gone downstairs to buy flowers, or a gift or something? The joy I’d felt moments before began to trickle away. I wanted to share it with her. I wanted her to be part of this moment, part of us, all of us. Slightly deflated, I turned around and began walking back to Jas’s room.
That’s when I saw it.
A light, bright and the palest shade of blue, coming out of a small glass window set into the door of the room right beside me. It wasn’t fluorescent, and it didn’t belong here, that much I knew almost instantly. I glanced up and down the hall, but there was no one around. The maternity ward was quiet at last.
Mesmerised, I watched as the light grew brighter, spilling out from around the door and bathing the immediate vicinity in its glow.
My heart performed a graceful but sudden swan-dive from the middle of my chest down to the soles of my feet, and my entire body tingled. A sense of all-encompassing love flowed over me, through me, making my ears ring with the power of it.
It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before, and at that moment, it felt as if time had shuddered to a halt, and that anything was possible. My breath came in small gasps as I reached for the door handle.
Whatever it was that was going on inside that room, I was a part of it and it was a part of me.
Maia/Emily
They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it.
For death is no more than a turning of us over from time to eternity.
Death cannot kill what never dies.
- William Penn
“AREN’T YOU GOING WITH THEM?” Alex asked, as Bridget and Heath retreated down the hallway with Vinnie.
I shook my head.
“Why not?”
It was a good question. I wished I had a proper answer for him, but there was something holding me back.
“It’s a family moment,” I said, grasping for a plausible reason. “I don’t want to intrude.”
He nodded as if he understood, which would have been a miracle because even I didn’t understand it. I felt like an outsider again. There was a force holding me in place, keeping me from joining the group, and I wanted to fight it, but I didn’t seem to have the nerve. I slumped back into the chair as their voices died away and mingled with the hum of the hospital lights.
Alex sat down opposite me, putting a bag of food down on the empty chair beside him. I looked over at him, trying to arrange my features so that my disappointment in myself didn’t show on my face.
“You should be in there too, shouldn’t you?” I asked him.
He smiled, and I could feel a familiar tug inside my heart. It was a feeling I usually associated with Heath. He had the same sad smile when he talked about Emily.
“I’m not really ready for all this,” he said with a heavy sigh, the smile dying away.
There was something about being awake at this time of the morning, when the rest of the world was sleeping. Everything took on a surreal glow, and your defences seemed to waver. The truth came out more easily at this hour than it did at any other, and I could see Alex struggling. I could almost hear his thoughts.
How much should I tell her?
He ran a hand through his shaggy blonde hair, then leaned forward, his eyes on the floor. I could feel the discomfort settle over him, an old friend he’d be clutching ever since the disappearance.
“What do you mean?”
“This family stuff,” he mumbled.
The fluorescent lights seemed to hum louder again, filling the silence between us. He looked up at me through eyes that had seen more than they wanted to see, and I could feel it, the ache he tried to hide. I hardly knew him, but it was suddenly as plain as day. I’d seen glimpses of grief before, especially during the past few days, but this was different. It was fresh and raw, yet at the same time, something told me he’d been holding on to this for a long time. It was a part of him, a part he had struggled with in the past and was still struggling with, especially as new life was beginning in the room down the hall.
“You probably know this already,” I said gently. “But you have something really incredible here. You have a family that loves you. They’
re always there for you, they didn’t give up on you, and they never will, no matter what. That’s like winning the lottery, isn’t it? I’d give anything to have what you have.”
He stared at me for the longest time, as if he was taking my words, one by one, and twisting and turning them until they made sense. Then he nodded, slowly sitting back in his chair.
“You’re a lot like her,” he said, his eyes locked onto mine.
I wanted to look away, but he held me fast. I knew what he meant, he didn’t need to say her name.
“I know,” I said. “I’ve seen the photos.”
“No, I don’t mean like that. I mean you’re a lot like her. The things you say… sometimes you sound just like her.”
Did I?
Don’t jump to conclusions. You don’t know.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s a compliment.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but something distracted me. A light, coming from down the hall. It was out of place, brighter than the fluorescent bulbs above us, and bluer. And more, well, natural.
“What?” he asked, following my gaze.
The longer I stared at the light, the more it seemed to grow. Alex and I stood up at the same time, drawn towards it.
“What the hell is that?” he mumbled, as we found ourselves standing in front of a door.
The light pulsated, waxing and waning as if searching for a release. Its pulsing matched the nervous fluttering of my heart. This light was meant for me. I reached for the door and pushed it open, and the glow engulfed us both.
The room shrank in on itself, and then exploded, shattering into a shower of stars above me. It was as if the moon and the stars and the ocean had somehow combined, a symphony of nature calling me home. It cocooned me, flooding me with an overwhelming sense of peace. My body shivered, a delicious feeling of contentment, as time expanded and contracted. My arms outstretched, space slipped through my fingers like grains of sand. The room tilted as the invisible chains of gravity fell away and the floor disappeared, sending me floating skyward.
