Give Me Hell

by Kate McCarthy

  You would think her the size of a house with the calories she consumes each day, but her fury burns them faster than a lit match. Even so, she needs to be healthier, especially with a baby on the way. This sandwich isn’t really the epitome of wholesome food. Maybe I should get some advice from Jared.

  I push open her hospital room door and find the bed empty.

  Goddammit.

  I turn around and head straight for the elevator. After jabbing the up button, I stand and wait. Eventually the doors ding loudly and zip open, expelling Travis, Jared, and Evie, the latter slurping her way through a chocolate thickshake. Surely that drink is full of preservatives. There’s no way in hell Mac will be ingesting any of the like during her pregnancy.

  “She’s not here,” I tell them, putting my arm across the doorway of the elevator to keep it open.

  They halt en masse as I step inside and turn.

  “Where is she?” Travis asks.

  I point up, indicating she’s visiting Mitch. They all step back in, and I press nine. The doors close and the elevator ascends.

  Jared reclines against the side wall, hands in his pockets and a scowl on his face. It’s directed at me.

  “What?”

  His voice is accusatory. “You let her out of bed.”

  My lips peel back in a sarcastic smile. “Oh, that’s cute. You think when I told Mac she couldn’t get out of bed and visit Mitch that she’d actually listen.”

  “You shouldn’t have left her alone.”

  My eyes narrow. “She was hungry, Valentine.” I wave the offensive looking sandwich in his face. “Was I supposed to let her starve?”

  “Enough!” Travis shouts. His face is pained. “We’re all stressed and upset right now. Let’s not take it out on each other.”

  “He started it,” I mutter, which basically makes me an immature dick.

  “You’re a dick,” Jared retorts, verbalising the obvious.

  Travis shakes his head. “I can’t believe you two fuckers are going to be dads. God help us all.”

  Evie unwraps her lips from the straw. “Amen,” she adds.

  Eventually we arrive at Mitch’s room. Mac isn’t there. Panic climbs my throat. It feels like heartburn. I rub at my chest.

  “Maybe she was going back down as we were coming up?” Evie suggests.

  Panic recedes. “You’re right. You all stay here and I’ll go back down.”

  I leave them and race back down to Mac’s room, but she hasn’t returned. I’m standing beside her bed when my phone rings. I tug it free from the back pocket of my jeans. After checking who the incoming call is from, I hit the red decline button.

  It rings again.

  I decline again.

  It rings again.

  I huff and answer it, putting the phone to my ear. “Jake Romero.”

  “Sorry to bother you.”

  “It’s fine, but I’m just in the middle of something. Can I call back later?”

  “No. I was told to tell you it’s urgent.”

  I swipe a hand down the side of my face. I can’t deal with this right now. “How urgent is urgent because—”

  “It’s urgent, Mr. Romero.”

  A heavy, frustrated sigh escapes me. They wouldn’t tell me it was if it wasn’t. “I’ll be right there.”

  I send a message to Travis. She’s not here. You need to search the hospital. Get security to check the tapes. It might seem an excessive step, but this is Mac we’re talking about.

  It takes me forty-five minutes to reach my destination. It usually takes me half an hour, but I have fractured ribs and questionable vision. I rush past reception instead of taking the time to sign the visitor registration log like I usually do. After walking through a maze of turns and corridors, I go through another door which takes me outdoors and along a meandering road. From here there are buggies that can take you to your destination, but I choose to walk quickly. It’s not far.

  When I reach villa number five oh nine, I open the door with my key and step inside. My father is on his daybed in the living area. It’s set on an incline so he’s half sitting in front of a window where he can view the gardens that sprawl outward.

  When I see Mac beside him, my knees almost buckle with relief. What is she doing here? I had no idea she even knew where my father lived. She’s lying in the expensive recliner I bought after getting the shits over the crappy chairs the assisted living facility provided. She has the leg rest up and the back shoved down.

  My father’s eyes are a little glassy as they watch her rather than the window, and it’s then that I realise she’s talking.

  “And then I told him I only came after him so I could rip off his head and feed it to the sharks.”

  Dad makes a garbled noise. It’s the sound of him laughing and I wonder if Mac realises that. I want to tell her so she understands his response, but I want to keep listening too. I let it go and stand by the door, remaining unobtrusive and quiet.

  “It’s not funny, Mike,” she replies and my brows pull down, puzzled. She knew it was him laughing. The only way she could have known was if she’d spent considerable time with him since his aneurysm. “He was going to leave. I should’ve shot him instead of Ross.”

  Dad’s garbled sounds grow louder. She’s making him laugh hard. A lump forms in my throat. Then he speaks. “Maaart knooooorrrk sense.”

  After years of listening to him talk, I know what he’s saying, but Mac—

  She snorts, understanding him perfectly. “Nothing will knock sense into that hard head of his.”

  Dad garbles again.

  Oh god, my fucking heart.

  “Did you know we’re supposed to be engaged?”

  He jerks in surprise. I haven’t told him.

  “He wants me to take his name. Can you imagine that? Me? A Romero.”

  “Pr … Pr-prooooud,” Dad gets out.

  He’s trying to tell her that nothing would make him prouder than Mac being a Romero. “You’ll be my father-in-law, Mike. And a grandpa.”

  He jerks harder at the second revelation.

  Mac pats her belly. “Will you come to the hospital when she’s born? My dad can come get you.”

  “L-l-looove,” he answers.

  I inhale a shaky breath and my eyes burn.

  “M-m-mmmm Miiiiitch,” he gets out, “be gord unc unc … uncle.”

  Mac’s jaw tightens and her voice chokes. “I don’t know how I’ll live with myself if he doesn’t wake up.”

  I go to step in, but Dad moves a shaky hand toward her. It flops down on top of hers in an awkward attempt at comfort. “T-t tttime. Jake. B-b bbbabyy.”

  He’s telling her that she’ll forgive herself in time. That I’ll be there for her. And that she needs to think of the baby.

  “I told him to get out,” she tells him. “I wanted to see Mitch. I wanted space but now …”

  “N-now?” Dad prompts.

  “I just want Jake,” she whispers. “I blame him for leaving, but I pushed him to do it. We lost a baby once. A long time ago. I was in a car accident. Jake didn’t know. I thought he did, but he didn’t, and I was so angry at him for not being there. I lost him that day too and it felt like I died. It took me two years to remember how to live again. And ever since, all I could think was that I never wanted to go through that again. I was scared. But that’s stupid, right? Because I’m a Valentine. We don’t get scared. But I was. I still am. And I panicked when I found out I was pregnant again and Jake had gone. So panicked I couldn’t think straight or see straight. It was happening all over again. But then Jake said something in my room today that he’s never said before.”

  I hold my breath.

  “Wh-wh …” Dad is trying to ask what.

  Mac answers. “I’m not going anywhere, Princess. Not—”

  “Ever again,” I finish for her.

  She lifts her head, startled, her green eyes finding mine. They fill rapidly and she blinks. “You found me.”

  I want to tell
her that I’ll find her no matter where she goes, but the truth is that Mac is more slippery than an eel. I’d have better luck finding the secret city of Paititi. “Dad had the duty nurse call me. She told me it was urgent, but she didn’t say that you were here. I just assumed Dad needed me.”

  He pats the bed, indicating to come closer. “Mar-mar-m … M…”

  “Yes, Dad. I asked her to marry me.”

  His face fixes in a scowl.

  “I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.”

  “Gr-gr …” He grabs my hand in a tight grip when I go to finish for him. I wait. “Gr-graaandparr.”

  “And you’re going to be a grandpa.”

  His lips tremble. He slams them together, and his head moves back and forth on the pillow, back and forth, back and forth. He’s worked up. Releasing emotion is difficult for him.

  “Mike,” Mac says in a calm, normal tone, unaffected by his actions. “I’m going to read to you now.”

  She twists awkwardly in her seat, trying to reach for the cupboard by his daybed. It’s always filled with library books, the pages old and worn and read a thousand times by thousands of people. How does she know they’re there?

  I walk around the bed and crouch in front of the cupboard. “I’ll get it,” I tell her, opening the door. There’s a haphazard pile inside. “Which one are you up to, Dad?”

  But he can’t answer, his head is jerking around. “The Matthew Reilly one,” Mac answers. “The Four Legendary Kingdoms.”

  I look up at her. “How do you know?”

  “I read to him,” she says softly. “Every fortnight.”

  “You …” I can’t catch my breath.

  “He’s family, Jake.”

  Loyal to the bone. That’s my girl. And it makes my heart so full I can barely stand it. I grab for the book. Blindly. Because my vision is blurred. I hand it to her. She finds her place in the story and begins to read. And as her voice carries through the room, slow and repetitive, my father begins to calm.

  I don’t know how it’s possible to fall in love with someone more than once, but I do.

  I pull my phone out and tap a message to Travis.

  Found her. She’s fine. Will bring her back to the hospital in an hour.

  After hitting send, I put it away and drag an uncomfortable chair toward my father’s side. We both sit there listening to her tell a story. And for the first time since I met Mackenzie Valentine and went on this crazy ride, I finally feel complete.

  MAC

  Six months later…

  I wake slowly. Deliciously. It’s a warm summer morning, and my bedroom window is open. The sheer curtains billow from a delicate breeze. “Crying Shame” by The Teskey Brothers croons softly from the speaker by my bed, right where a thick dark mug of coffee rests waiting for me to rise.

  A deep breath fills my lungs. I let it out leisurely, feeling well-rested and happy. Today is the first day of my maternity leave and my first holiday since … Well it’s my first holiday. Ever.

  “Mac!” Jared’s voice roars up the staircase, ruining my appealing fantasy. “Get out of bed, you lazy beached whale! You’re needed downstairs.”

  “Fuck off!” I shriek back.

  The truth is that I haven’t woken slowly because I barely slept at all. Who can sleep when your belly is bigger than Mt. Everest? There’s no crooning music to gently rouse me either. And no leisurely breaths of air or sweet breeze wafting through my window. The only thing true is my maternity leave starting today.

  My bedroom is a sweaty hotbox because I’m the dick that’s due to have a baby in the height of summer. A baby pffft. An evil being grows inside me. One who kicks and punches and bounces on my bladder like it’s a jumping castle of fun. I’m literally being attacked from the inside out.

  Pregnancy is a total shit sandwich. I’m not glowing and my hair hasn’t thickened into a glorious mane. It’s lank and damp from sweat and tangled around my neck, choking me like the tentacles of a giant Architeuthis.

  And I’m not resting comfortably in my own room. Nooooooo. That would be asking too much. I’m in my old bedroom at my parents’ house. Why? Because I’m an idiot, that’s why.

  We gave up our lease with the duplex six months ago. Henry, Frog, and Cooper, bought a loft in the building where Casey, Grace, and Coby still reside. The three twits think the area exudes some kind of badass vibe, and they’re hoping it will rub off on them. I eventually had to ruin their ridiculous notion and explain that you’re actually born with the badass gene inside you. It’s not something you can just acquire by association. It’s not magical glitter that you sprinkle over yourself at the start of the day.

  Not that they listened. No one ever listens to the ‘hormonal rants’ of a pregnant woman, so I’ll just leave it for them to figure out for themselves.

  Jake and I decided to have our own house like my brothers and their wives rather than lease an apartment. Though unlike Jared and Evie, who lived in their house while they renovated it, and unlike Travis and Quinn, who moved in to a house they built without finishing the yard, Jake and I are doing the whole shebang. House, gardens, and pool. We demolished an old dilapidated house on the same street as Jared and Evie in Bondi and started a new house from scratch.

  I figured it would only take a couple of months. All they had to do was pour a slab of concrete for the foundation, slap up a timber frame, some bricks, add a bath or two and a sink, dig a big hole for a pool, add in a few plants and voila! Instant dream house!

  On that basis, we thought moving in with my parents for such a short period of time would be survivable, but five months later we’re still here and I’m hanging on by my fingernails.

  Apparently construction workers are lazy. They don’t like to work. Sometimes they turn up just for show, eat their lunch at nine a.m. from their lunch boxes like little kids, and act like they’ve done a hard day’s yakka before heading home. They also gossip like you wouldn’t believe. I’m guessing it’s all the flapping of their gums that leaves them weary after a hard day of pretending to build stuff.

  In summary, progress is slow. I show up onsite sporadically, heavily pregnant, and rage at them like a hormonal bitch. It spurs them into action, but they’ve estimated another three months before we can move in.

  My baby shower was supposed to be in the new house. There should be a nursery set up and ready. Instead, I’m two weeks out from delivering Satan and I have nothing.

  Well I have Jake, I guess. The asshead who sleeps like the dead. He rolls over in bed and his knee pulls up, hitting me in my side. I grunt. We’re getting married. Today.

  This giant lump of muscled man will be my husband in a few short hours. He was supposed to sleep on the couch, tradition dictating you can’t see each other before the ceremony or it’s bad luck, but I don’t give a shit about the old, musty folklore. Jake promised he would never leave me again, and by god, that means not sleeping apart. Ever. Not even for a single night.

  Jake makes an odd snuffling sound. He’s slowly rousing. A hot palm finds the hem of my oversized nightshirt. It slides beneath and climbs, rubbing a hand over my colossal pregnant belly.

  My heart flutters and despite my shitty sleep, a smile tugs at the corners of my lips.

  “You’re glaring at me,” he mumbles, his eyes still closed.

  “I am,” I lie, “and I’ll continue to do so every morning you wake beside me for the rest of your natural life.”

  “I already want a divorce,” he mutters, his calloused palm lovingly scratching its way across my sensitive, stretched skin.

  “You can have the house,” I announce. “I’m over it already.”

  “I’ll let you have the cat, then.”

  “No,” I argue. “You can have the cat too.”

  Our little kitten is a rescue from the RSCPA and a baby shower gift from Henry, Frog, and Cooper, because that’s what you buy for someone who’s about to give birth to Satan. A mothertrucking cat. Satan’s spirit animal. They thought lo
oking after the furball would be good training for a baby. My friends are clueless wankers. It’s lucky they have me around all the time to set them straight.

  “Where is it?” Jake asks, his rich brown eyes blinking open blearily. The bachelor party was last night. Jake and all the boys got to imbibe alcohol. Meanwhile, my bachelorette party was two weeks ago and included mocktails and flip-flops on my feet because cankles.

  “Where’s what?”

  “Constantine.”

  That’s what we named our kitten. After the demon hunter who literally went to Hell and back. I voted for The Antichrist but Constantine seems to suit the fluffy little troublemaker. She’s also completely white, which was thoughtful of the boys. They know how soothing I find the colour.

  “I don’t know. Do you hear her?”

  She’s so tiny. We had to put a bell on her diamond studded collar—yes diamond studded collar. Jake bought it because he’s a sucker for Constantine’s huge feline eyes. God help us when our girl is born. Jake is going to spoil her until she becomes a complete hellion. Our daughter is going to be precocious and yet utterly endearing. She’ll wrap every single one of us around her finger until we’re nothing but a twisted mess.

  “She’s somewhere.” I hear her bell tinkling from inside the room.

  Jake rolls over and opens the drawer of the bedside table. He rustles around. Finding what he’s looking for, he pulls it out and rolls back. It’s a small rectangular gift-wrapped box tied with a red bow. He places it on my belly. It sways precariously from its mountainous perch. “Happy wedding day, my beautiful bride.”

  My cheeks flush with pleasure. Constantine is not the only female he likes to spoil. “You got me a gift?”

  He grins, eyes twinkling. “I did. Hurry up and open it before your family storms the bedroom door and drags us out to help with the setup.”

  We’re holding our wedding in the backyard of my parents’ house. I’m too heavily pregnant to host anything more extravagant than that. It’s why Jared is already yelling at me. He’s tasked with twining flowers around the arbour I bought in a fit of fancy and setting out the guest chairs for the ceremony.