As I reach the bottom of the stairs another contraction hits. I topple over, trying to breathe like I was taught in my prenatal classes. Charlie is rubbing her body along my leg. My only thought is that the prenatal teacher was batshit crazy. There is no way I can breathe through this pain. It’s probably more like I will stop breathing. I’m dying…
No. I will keep my shit together because I need to be strong. This baby inside me is going to need a strong mother. I’ve been trying to convince myself of this for the past seven months but I feel like I am fooling myself. I met Thomas when I was fifteen. Since then, he’s been my whole world. Now that he isn’t here, I’m a broken mess, scared of raising this baby on my own.
The contraction finally passes. Feeling spent and thirsty, I waddle to the kitchen for a glass of water. I gulp down one glass, then another. While I’m at the sink, I fill Charlie’s water dish. I take care of her food too, reminding myself to let the neighbor know that she’ll need to look in on her.
I head for the door, knowing the cab will be here soon. I pass the living room and I spot a photo of Thomas and me on the mantel. I walk over to it, feeling hot fury burning in my chest.
“Damn you, Thomas Wells,” I hiss at his picture. “You promised me you were the sticking-around type and this doesn’t fucking constitute sticking around…” I pick up the frame and lay it face down. I’ve put most of our pictures in a box in the attic. Right after he left, I was in so much pain, felt so alone. Staring at his photographs made it hurt more.
This was the only picture I left around the house. It was taken after we got married. We both look so young and hopeful. The prick knew how to get me pregnant, he just couldn’t manage to hang around. My gaze shifts to my water polo trophies on the shelf by the fireplace. Even looking at the trophies right now makes me angry and I feel like chucking them across the room. My parents thought a team sport would be good for me when we moved out here. It’s how I met Thomas. Anger stings its way up my throat. I realize how resentful I am. I know I need to get myself together because I can’t show the baby that I resent its father. I know better than that.
I make my way to the door and put on my boots and winter coat. Charlie takes a seat beside me, looking up at me with soppy brown eyes. “Don’t worry, girl. I’ll be just fine. I’ll be back with a baby in hand.” I pat her on the head. Two minutes later a bright light shines into the house followed by a loud car horn. The cab.
I leave the house and lock the door with my little beach bag and purse on my shoulder. As I approach the cab, the cabbie looks at me a little wide-eyed. It’s now three-thirty in the morning and a very pregnant woman is climbing into his cab.
“Where to ma’am?” he asks as if he already knows—he just wants me to choose a hospital.
“St. Joseph’s Hospital…” Another contraction strikes and I hold on to my belly screaming. My head falls back when he accelerates abruptly.
“Holy shit! Ma’am, I’m driving. Just don’t have that baby in my cab.” I can’t even answer him. This contraction is even stronger. I just hope I make it to the hospital on time. Having a baby in the back of a cab with no drugs is simply not happening.
The driver is driving like a maniac down the slippery roads. I hope he doesn’t kill us trying to get there. The contraction subsides. Phew! I use my breathing time to shoot my neighbor Maggie a quick text asking if she can stop by and take care of Charlie. The cab stops abruptly and I jerk forward, feeling a strong need to pee. He pulls up to the front of St. Joseph’s and I reach for my purse to pay him.
He looks like he’s sweating. “It’s okay ma’am. Don’t pay me, just go…please just go,” he practically begs me.
I’m too panicked to pay him much attention. I take my purse and bag and leave his cab. If these contractions are regular, another one should hit in about a minute. As I walk toward the hospital entrance, warm liquid slowly trickles down both my legs. Shit! I’ve either just peed myself or my water broke. I really have no clue. All I know is that I am uncomfortable and wet. The air is brisk and cool as I make my way through the sliding doors of the hospital and up to the information desk.
“Labor and delivery, please,” I ask with a hint of a smile since it’s the best I can manage under the circumstances.
“Sure ma’am, that’s the tenth floor. Should I call for assistance?” the young African American man behind the desk asks with a kind smile.
“Huh. Aghhh!” I topple forward as I brace myself for another contraction. “I need an epidural,” I scream. This is getting intense. The man leaves his desk and comes around to my side. He jogs over to the entrance and grabs me a wheelchair, huffing a bit.
“Have a seat, ma’am. I’ll get you to the tenth floor.” I take a seat, trying to breathe through this pain. It’s too damn much. My insides are crushing me. Finally, I sense some relief when the squeezing sensation eases into a dull pain.
The physical pain turns into sadness as I’m rolled down the hallway. My father moved our family away from California when he got a job in this hospital. I was so angry at my parents for taking me away from my friends and my life in LA. I was happy there.
My father was a doctor and my mother a university professor. They had me later in life because they had trouble conceiving. When they finally had me, I became their life. When I was born, my mom took one look at me and was convinced I had a halo around me and hence my original name. After trying to have a baby for over a decade, she doted on me every moment of her time.
It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing until they became worried about my friends and their influence on me. To “save me” we moved halfway across the country. I remember coming to the hospital to visit my father. Getting wheeled down these familiar halls causes those painful memories to rip a hole through my heart.
“Agh,” I cry out again as the man wheels me toward the nurse’s desk. We finally come to a stop. “Thank you, sir,” I bite out through the pain.
“Good luck.” He waves, looking at me sympathetically. He should be sympathetic. I’m about to split in fucking two!
“How far apart are your contractions?” A nurse with brown, short hair and wearing glasses low on her nose peers over her desk at me.
“My contractions are four minutes apart and I have a warm liquid oozing its way down my legs,” I snarl. I think my voice must sound like Darth Vader.
“Are we waiting for a partner?” she asks. Jenny was supposed to be my birthing partner. She’s soaking up the sun right now. I look down to the band on my finger. Why am I still wearing it? Gah! I should have taken off the ring, especially now that we divorced, but I felt like if I took off the ring I would lose all hope that he would come back to me. It’s ridiculous and pathetic. Now I feel like whipping the wedding ring at the damn wall.
“I’m on my own,” I reply, feeling the words sting my throat. I let out a breath, my body weak and tired from the contractions.
“Okay, well, I need you to fill out the insurance paper work first. I will have one of the nurses come by and get you,” she answers with a frown. She passes me a clipboard with a shit-ton of papers. I’m really happy I have good insurance from work. Being a teacher and working for the city means I have at least that. I can afford to have this baby. Even though I know it’s going to be hard with being a single mom. I don’t want to return to work immediately. Ideally I want time with my baby. I begin to fill out the redundant questions when my belly begins to clench again. I squeeze the pen in my hand so hard the plastic snaps and ink spurts over my hand.
“Oh dear,” the nurse behind the desk mutters as she watches me. My head is thrown back, and I must look bright red because I’m not breathing through this pain. “Do you have an insurance card? I’ll finish this up for you.” She walks around the desk with a cloth in her hand and wipes the splattered ink off my hand. She cleans it but it doesn’t come off.
“Ye…es… It’s in my wallet in my purse,” I murmur. She takes my purse and she must find what she needs because a few moments
later she says, “All done. Let’s get a doctor to look at you.”
She wheels me through two large, white doors. We pass many delivery rooms and as my ears register the sounds of voices—some male, some female—coming from the rooms, I can’t help but think of Thomas. I desperately wish he were here to witness the birth of our child.
“Please lie on the bed. We’ll hook you up to the monitors and have one of the residents come in to see how far along you are.” A pleasant young nurse with blond hair smiles.
I ask about getting something for my pain as she helps me out of my clothes and into a gown. After I’m settled on the bed, she reassures me that they can get something for me as soon as they assess my condition.
It’s a relief when—after they hook me up to the monitors—I hear my baby’s heartbeat. That little heartbeat warms my own heart and I exhale a long breath. There is light at the end of this tunnel.
I hope I can do okay by my baby. I think about my own parents—they made their mistakes but they still did the best they could. I feel so far away from the teenager who was once given everything that it’s hard to reconcile who I am now with who I was just a few years ago.
I barely register meeting the doctor and when the anesthesiologist comes to administer the epidural, I just try to hold on through the pain. They assign me a delivery nurse—her name is Judy and I love her smile—and she’s so kind I want to weep.
“How are you doing, Halo?” Judy asks and I practically want to hug her. I don’t remember the last time someone asked me how I was doing.
I don’t have too many close friends except for Jenny and Dave. They don’t judge, they only support me. I have a larger group of friends and coworkers who I eat lunch with on school days, but those friends were more for the good times, not the bad. There was no way I was going to cry them a river.
Thomas and I were given the option of living close to a military base so that I would have the support of the other military wives. I had always considered that option and then panic would begin to rise in me. The house in Rogers Park was all I had left of my parents. I felt like if I moved away I would lose the connection I felt there. As it was, I had felt guilty about fighting with them. I felt that if they somehow knew I stayed in the house they would be happy. And somewhere along the way Chicago became home. Thomas and I had built special memories here. I didn’t want to leave those behind either.
“Well, Judy, I could be better. I’m kind of freaking out wondering how this baby is going to come out of me,” I admit, raising my left brow.
Judy throws her head back, laughing. “You don’t need to worry. Your body was built for this. Why don’t you try to sleep? It can take a few hours for things to progress since the epidural slows things down. You need your strength for pushing later on. I will be sitting here watching your machines.” Her voice is soft and reassuring.
“Thanks, Judy.” I smile. There is something about her demeanor that relaxes me. I feel I can trust her. I close my eyes and drift off.
***
January 6, 1999
National Water Polo Competition
Halo
“Don’t be so nervous.” Mom smiles, looking into the backseat of the car. I am staring out the window of Dad’s SUV and biting my nails. It’s snowing outside. I hate that it’s snowing. I want to see sunshine and palm trees not a grey sky and slushy streets.
“And stop biting your nails. Your team is going to do just fine. You guys are the best. Just do the best you can and we are always proud of you. You’re number one to me anyway.” Mom gives me a silly grin.
“That’s right, kiddo, stop taking this so seriously.” My father gazes at me in the rearview mirror. “We thought it would be a good way for you to make friends. I don’t want you stressing over this.” His thick, silver eyebrows are scrunched together.
“It’s fine, Dad. So I am a little competitive. Competition is a healthy part of life.” I grin.
I am nervous as hell even though I’m desperately trying to hide it from my parents. As their only daughter, I’m expected to be independent, confident and to take everything with grace. That’s not really me. I’m shy. I haven’t been able to make even one genuine friendship since we moved. I’m confident about my schoolwork. I don’t pay much attention to my physical appearance because I’ve been taught that it’s what’s on the inside of a person that counts. Hence my lack of makeup and my simple clothing. I’m an average girl, auburn hair, brown eyes. Nothing special and I’m okay with that.
I like to win. I have a competitive streak that gets my blood pumping. Today’s competition is on the national level. Teams from all over the country will be competing and, yes, I want to win.
When we arrived in Chicago I didn’t make friends quickly. My parents—who had been concerned about drug use in the schools I’d gone to in LA—thought I should take part in a sport. Sports demand teamwork and friendship and my folks were sure athletics would keep me out of trouble. I was a strong swimmer and so my mother enrolled me in water polo. It turned out I had strong ankles and a wicked eggbeater kick that allowed me to excel in the sport. I went from recreational water polo straight into the competitive league and today I would participate in the finals.
As we enter the building for the competition, I see a sign indicating that the boys are competing today as well.
“Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!” I wave as I saunter toward the locker room.
“Bye, honey,” they both call simultaneously. I sometimes wonder if they’re secretly Siamese twins, they are so much alike.
“Hey.” One of my teammates—Amanda—smiles at me as I walk through the doors.
“Hey,” I reply.
“The guys are here too. We can scope out some hotties,” she says with a giggle. She was already in her bathing suit. I place my bag in a locker and begin to change. Scoping out boys is the last thing on my mind right now. I’m fifteen and a half years old and I’ve never had a boyfriend. I had guy friends in LA, but I was never interested in anyone enough to take things to the next level. Chicago is the same story. No one catches my eye.
“Yay hotties,” I cheer back to Amanda, hoping not to sound too sarcastic. I don’t want to offend her by not sharing in her enthusiasm.
We both walk out to the pool deck together. There are benches lined up along the walls for the teams. I looked up to the bleachers and my parents smile down at me, waving proudly. I guess that’s how it is being an only child. Your parents only have you to focus on. I inhale a long breath and let it out, feeling a little exasperated.
My team begins warm ups and I stretch with them. Next to us is a team of boys. My gaze slowly drifts over to them. They’re stretching too. Maybe I am checking for hotties. When we finish our stretches, all the girls take a seat on the bench.
“So which one do you like, Halo?” Amanda asks, taking a seat beside me and tilting her chin to the boys’ team.
“Hmm.” I tap my fingers on my chin playfully.
My gaze makes an abrupt stop on a guy who is hunched over. He’s bigger and more muscular than the rest of his team. He looks like he must seriously work out. I can tell that he’s caught me ogling when our eyes meet briefly. He stands and I pull my gaze away quickly. My face turns beet red. I look off to the pool, hoping to save myself from his returning stare.
Looking away doesn’t solve the problem. I feel his gaze on me now. I can see a devilish grin on his face out of the corner of my eye. I take slow breaths, wishing my cheeks won’t turn pink, but my pale complexion betrays me.
Amanda leans over so her lips brush my ear. “It seems like you’ve caught someone’s attention.” She smirks and nods her head over to the guy. Great! Now it’s obvious we’re talking about him. This can’t get any more embarrassing. I’m definitely not schooled in flirting or anything that has to do with boys other than friendship. I may be a hopeless romantic at heart but it’s not something I would ever admit. I do have a few romance novels that I indulge in between my Tolkien reads.
&n
bsp; “Amanda, don’t gesture.” I smack her thigh. “Now he’ll know we were talking about him,” I snap in her ear. That’s when I feel a dark shadow looming over us. I take a large gulp as I turn my head to see the shadow’s cause. The guy—the hottie—is standing in front of us. Jesus!
I flinch and the pink nuisance crawls up my neck toward my cheeks again as my heart picks up speed. I suddenly felt dizzy and out of breath and I cackle thinking I remind myself of a heroine from one of the romance novels I enjoy reading. I was crushing on this boy. A definite first for me.
“Hey, I’m Thomas Wells.” He extends his hand to me. His voice is smooth but deep. Holy hell, my heart is beating a mile a minute.
Get a hold of yourself, Halo.
I extend my hand shakily. “Hi Halo,” I reply with a voice that’s barely audible. Amanda nudges me in the shoulder and confidently extends her own hand.
“Amanda, nice to meet you, Thomas Wells,” she says with a flirtatious smile. I want nothing more than to whack her upside the head.
“So are you girls competing today?” he asks, his dark blue eyes glued on me. There’s something about his eyes as they dance mischievously, taking me in. Holy hell, he is beautiful.
“Uh…yes…are you?” I ask with a shaky voice.
Get a grip, Halo. You sound like a scared child.
I’ve always had lots of guy friends. I never get nervous like this. I can’t stop my eyes from checking him out, either. His muscular arms and six-pack abs are drool-worthy. I lift my eyes back to eye level and notice his sexy grin. My cheeks flush some more. A part of me wants to run away and find composure.
“Yeah, I’m hoping we are going to get first place today.” He flashes a perfect smile and white teeth. I’m happy that his attention is on me and not Amanda. I nod my head when he replies and I give him a shy smile. I don’t want to be acting so idiotic. I want to be funny or sexy; none of that is happening for me.
“So, Halo, is this your first competition? I don’t remember seeing you around.”
Halo Page 2
