by Mark Tufo
“I’ve been worried about you rolling over at night and doing me some bodily harm.”
“Don’t make my mom be right about you!”
“Wow, you play dirty,” Mike said with a shocked face.
“Come here,” she said.
“You look beautiful, Jandilyn,” Mike said as he approached.
“That’s not going to make it all better. Now get closer.” Mike leaned down so Jandilyn could brush her lips against his. “I love you, Mr. Talbot, now if you could make me a grilled cheese and peanut butter sandwich I might forget we had this entire conversation.”
“Jandilyn, that sounds disgusting. I’d rather keep having this talk.”
The smell of cooking peanut butter dominated the kitchen area a moment later.
“Throw some jalapeños in there!” Jandilyn yelled from the living room.
Mike gagged a little as he opened the sandwich up and tossed some peppers in the mix. “I wouldn’t give this to your mother,” he said softly.
“What about my mother?”
“I’m looking forward to seeing her,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Mike, you really should look into some acting classes before she gets out here so you can at least pretend to be civil.”
“I will act as nice to her as she does to me.”
“Oh, that oughtta be fun. Is my sandwich ready?”
“Jandilyn, she asked me what drugs I got you hooked on that were making you stay with me.”
“Yeah, and if I remember correctly you told her, manmeatadone.”
Mike snorted. “Hey, that was some pretty funny shit.”
Jandilyn laughed too. “I wonder if she ever figured that out.”
“I kind of hope so and I don’t, but your dad had to walk out of the room before he lost it.”
“She’ll only be out for a week once the baby is born.”
“How impressionistic are newborns?”
“Don’t worry, the baby won’t catch anything from her.”
“Now I am.” Mike walked in holding the sandwich away from his face, the heated peanut butter mixed with the heat of the pepper and brine of the vinegar were not doing his stomach any favors. “You can barely eat saltines in the morning and you eat this thing at night?”
“How’s the new book going, Mr. Talbot?”
“I was thinking about writing a zombie book with your mom as the lead character.”
“You know she’ll read it, right?”
“I think she’d be a perfect zombie, she’s already got the groans down to a tee.”
“You’re horrible,” she said around a mouthful of dripping cheese.
“I’ll get over it,” Mike said, going back to the kitchen to get some paper towels. Mike smiled. Since Jandilyn’s pregnancy had started, she had forgotten all of her table manners and Mike found that to be completely endearing, especially since he was sure that Mrs. Hollow was going to be horrified by her daughter’s newest manners, or lack thereof.
“Are you eating?” Jandilyn asked as cheese dripped from her face.
“Not hungry,” Mike said, watching her.
“Did you make two sandwiches?” she asked hopefully.
“Yup,” Mike said heading back into the kitchen and grabbing all the ingredients.
“It would be great if the second sandwich had marshmallow fluff on it.”
“Come on, Jandilyn, are you just making this stuff up?” Mike asked, digging through the cabinet.
“You should try it.”
“I’d rather go cross country with your mother in a small car, backwards.” His hand came across the half empty jar of fluff. He was not surprised to see a handful of jalapeños sitting on top of the marshmallow as he cracked the lid. She had fallen in love with the spicy pepper since her pregnancy started and added it to nearly everything. Mike never thought it would get worse than the time she sprinkled them over her bowl of Cheerios, but she kept pushing the envelope.
***
“Damn good to see you, son,” Mr. Hollow said, pumping Mike’s hand up and down vigorously. There had been a slight change in plans, the Hollows had decided to come out before the birth and stay a little while after also. Mike hoped Jandilyn went into labor that night, just as long as it wasn’t while he was at the airport picking up her parents.
“Michael,” Mrs. Hollow said as she handed him her carry-on.
“Always a pleasure,” Mike said, putting the strap over his shoulder. “What do you have in here, rocks?”
“Jandilyn’s old boyfriend, Durgan, now he was a strong one, wasn’t he?” she asked her husband.
“Gina, he was an asshole,” Mr. Hollow told his wife while he winked at Mike.
Mike loved him for that small gesture.
Mrs. Hollow strode ahead of them. Mr. Hollow clapped his hand around Mike’s shoulder. “I’ve been telling all my friends my daughter’s husband is a famous author now.” He beamed.
“I don’t know about famous, Mr. Hollow.”
“Call me Drew.”
“Drew.”
“Nonsense. How’s my baby girl?”
“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Mr.…Drew. She’s doing great except for her jalapeño addiction, I almost ran out about a week ago, it was the closest thing to a national disaster I’d ever encountered.”
Mr. Hollow laughed.
“Jalapeños?” Mrs. Hollow asked. “And you give them to her? How very working class of you.”
“I seem to remember you having a love affair with a very pedestrian food while you were pregnant with Jandilyn.”
“Don’t be silly. And should we be talking about this in front of strangers?” she asked, pulling ahead again.
“Cherry Pop-Tarts,” he whispered to Mike. “She couldn’t eat enough of them. One day, I was exhausted and I picked up strawberry ones, she damn near took off the top of my head when she threw them back at me. Another time we were on a tight budget and I bought the store brand, I at least had the foresight to stick them in a used Pop-Tart box. She knew the ruse for what it was, told me that she could tell by the foil packaging.”
“Cherry Pop-Tarts are the root of all evil,” Mike returned softly.
“Maybe that’s her problem.” Mr. Hollow laughed.
“I’ll go get the car,” Mike said as they exited the airport. He pulled up a few moments later in his brand new-to-him fire engine red Jeep Wrangler. He hopped out and opened the passenger door, moved the passenger seat so Mrs. Hollow could climb in the back.
“When did you start driving, Mike?” Mr. Hollow asked as he looked the Jeep over.
“I got a provisional license on Jandilyn’s urging. She wanted to make sure she could get to the hospital when the time came. I’m not supposed to drive at night, but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to tell the baby if he or she decides they want out at midnight.”
“I don’t think so.” Gina looked into the car. “You drive my daughter around in this thing?” she asked, looking at it as if it were covered in used diapers.
“You used to be fun, Gina,” Mr. Hollow said as he threw his bags in the back and hopped in.
Mike pushed the seat back, slamming the bags into Drew’s knees. “Oh, shit. Sorry, sir,” Mike said, sucking air in through his teeth. “That looked like it hurt.”
“I’ll be fine.” Drew winced, shifting his legs to the side so he would have more room.
Mrs. Hollow looked up and down the concourse.
“Get in, Gina, I don’t think there are any limos here,” her husband said from the backseat.
The ride back was, for the most part, quiet…except for some attempts at conversation from Drew, but Gina was having none of it.
“How quaint,” Mrs. Hollow said snidely as they pulled up to the apartment. “You would think a ‘famous’ author, as my husband so eloquently put it, would be able to afford something a little better.”
“That’s enough!” Drew said as he extracted himself from the clutches of the Jeep’s backs
eat. “This kid has done nothing but right by our daughter and yet any chance you get, you cut him down. I’m sick of it, either act civilly, which might be a stretch for you, or go home. I plan on enjoying my time out here. and if you can’t manage the same…I would rather you were gone.
Holy shit, Mike thought as he grabbed the bags and was heading out of Dodge. He had no desire to be anywhere nearby once the bullets started to fly. Mike could feel the venomous looks Mrs. Hollow was giving him and her husband, but gave her some small measure of credit, she didn’t say anything, at least not with her mouth.
“Hi, Dad!” Jandilyn said excitedly as she pinioned her way off the couch.
“Stay there, honey,” her father said as he rushed over to give her a hug. “Are you having twins?” he asked before even thinking.
“Oooh, wrong question,” Mike said, but no one in the apartment heard him and that was just fine with him.
“Am I fat?” Tears started to roll down her face. “I’m like a weeble!” she wailed.
“No, nothing like that, honey. I was just playing,” Mr. Hollow said, now in full backpedal mode.
“Honey, I got you something,” Mike said, trying to intervene.
“Mike, how do you stand being with me?” she fairly wailed.
Mike held up a Toblerone candy bar.
“Oh!” Her expression quickly changed. “Could you put some jalapeños on it!”
“Thank you so much,” Drew whispered in Mike’s ear as he went by him into the kitchen.
“Oh, I’ve been to this rodeo a few times now,” Mike said conspiratorially.
“What is that smell?” Mrs. Hollow asked as she reluctantly stepped farther into the apartment.
“That would be eau de peanut butter,” Mike told her from the kitchen door.
“Hi, Mom!” Jandilyn said, trying to shift herself around until she could maneuver off the couch.
“Don’t, you’ll—” Mrs. Hollow started.
Mike ran in with the whole jar of peppers before she could say anything that would upset her daughter. “Hi, honey, here you go,” Mike said, a little out of breath.
“I don’t need the whole jar, silly.” Yet she eyed the large candy bar and the oversized container of peppers greedily.
Crisis averted, Mike directed Mr. Hollow to the spare bedroom.
“Someday she’ll come around,” Mr. Hollow said to Mike.
“Drew, we dated for four years and have been married for one. I think you’re a lot more optimistic than I am.”
“The baby will soften her up.”
“If I thought that I would have made sure we were having triplets.”
“That’s funny, you should use that in your new book. How’s that going, by the way?”
“I mostly write at night because Jandilyn goes to bed at like seven so there’s not much to do while she’s sleeping.”
“You love her, don’t you?”
“A little late in the game if I didn’t.” Mike smiled. “She’s everything to me, Drew. You know my family and I had a falling out after the accident I was in, so she’s really all I’ve got.”
“I’m here for you two—well, three soon. Always, Mike. I don’t want you to think I wouldn’t help out in any way that I could. No matter what Gina thinks.”
“Thank you, sir, that means a lot.”
“Anytime, kid, now let’s get back before my wife says something she shouldn’t.”
Mike thought it was probably too late, but he agreed.
***
Mike was grateful at least one of Jandilyn’s parents was staying with them when his wife’s water broke. He would not have felt confident calling a cab and he was far too jittery to contemplate driving, plus it was nighttime and his lack of depth perception might get them to the hospital alright but for far different reasons than a child birth.
“Oh, Mike, this hurts,” Jandilyn said through gritted teeth as she reached her hand into the backseat where he was seated next to Mrs. Hollow. He wanted to tell her it couldn’t hurt as much as what he was going through right then, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Mike could feel the bones in his right hand shift around as Jandilyn squeezed with every contraction.
“How far apart, Mike?” Mr. Hollow asked. To Mike, he didn’t appear to be holding it together much better than he was himself.
“I’d say about a minute, just enough time for the bones in my hand to resettle into their proper position,” Mike answered.
“I’m sorry, honey, am I hurting you? This is me getting even.”
“Fair enough,” Mike answered as she again tried to squeeze juice out of his fingers.
The fifteen minute ride to the hospital was punctuated by twenty-two bone bending squeezes. “Their getting closer!” Mike said excitedly as they pulled up to the emergency doors.
“That’s what they generally do,” Mrs. Hollow said. Mike didn’t hear her and Mr. Hollow shot her a glance through the rearview mirror, imploring her to just ease up, at least for today.
***
Jandilyn was sitting up in her hospital bed, sweat pouring off her forehead. Mrs. Hollow was giving her daughter ice chips, Mike was pacing back and forth, trying to figure out how long it would take to wear a groove in the floor.
“It’ll be alright, son,” a clearly flustered Mr. Hollow said, trying his best to calm Mike down. It might have had more effect if the magazine he was pretending to read was not jittering around like Jell-O in an earthquake.
Mike and Jandilyn’s pediatrician came in, put on some Latex gloves, and positioned herself so she could check Jandilyn’s dilation. “Five centimeters, you’re doing great, Jandilyn.”
Mike shrugged at Mr. Hollow. Neither one of them had a clue what that meant.
The doctor turned to Mike. “Michael there are scrubs in the closet, I suggest you get them on.”
Mike’s knees almost buckled. He walked woodenly to the closet, surreal wasn’t even beginning to cover what he was feeling.
“Where are mine?” Mrs. Hollow asked.
“Only one family member is allowed in the delivery room, Mrs. Hollow,” the doctor said kindly.
“Then why is it him?” She pointed vehemently.
“I…I just assumed,” the doctor said, now trying to extricate herself from the conflict.
“Mom!” Jandilyn said between huffs. “What is your problem!”
Had Mrs. Hollow asked with some semblance of sincerity and respect, Mike felt he would have willingly and gratefully given up his spot in the delivery room. Now he’d put the scrubs on just so he could shove it up her ass.
“I’m a blood relative, they are merely related by a piece of paper that could burn by a single match.”
“That’s it, Gina,” Mr. Hollow stood up, “let’s go get some coffee,” he said as he physically removed her from the chair she was sitting next to the bed in. “I love you, honey,” he said as he leaned over and kissed Jandilyn’s glistening forehead.
“You sure do have a way with women,” the doctor said to Mike once Jandilyn’s parents were out of the room.
“It’s a gift, really,” he told her.
The doctor laughed. “You ready?” she turned and asked Jandilyn.
“No.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” the doctor said as she disengaged the brakes on the bed and began to wheel Jandilyn out of the room and down the corridor. An orderly came up and relieved the doctor from her chauffeur duties.
Mike struggled to keep pace by the side of the bed as Jandilyn held his hand. “You look beautiful,” he said to her. “A little pale, but beautiful.”
“You switch places with me and see how much color you retain.”
“I’m good,” Mike said.
“One, two, three,” the lead nurse said as they moved Jandilyn from her gurney to the birthing bed.
“Blood pressure is one twenty over seventy-five,” one of the technicians said aloud.
“That’s a little low,” the doctor said.
“Sounds a
bout perfect,” Mike said, throwing in his minimal medical knowledge, not really meaning to voice his opinion, but the doctor answered him.
“Sure, for you or me,” she said, “not for someone in a great deal of pain having a baby.”
“Oh.” Mike still didn’t have a clue if he should be concerned or not.
“One fifteen over seventy,” the technician said again.
“Jandilyn,” the doctor said loudly. “How you feeling?”
Mike hadn’t noticed, but Jandilyn’s eyelids were nearly closed.
“Fine,” Jandilyn mumbled. “Mike, take care of her.”
“What?” Mike asked, alarm bells began to go off in his head and on the myriad of monitors around him.
“She’s bleeding out!” the doctor said. “Get the crash cart! Get surgical down here now. I need three units of A-positive!”
“Jandilyn?” Mike said by her side.
“It really is beautiful,” she said, looking over at him.
A big boned nurse physically removed Mike from his bedside position. He stood against the wall wishing he could be anywhere but there.
Jandilyn’s color drained as if she’d been washed in bleach.
He knew what he had to do no matter how distasteful. He placed his hand up to his left eye and jerked the contact out, the room tilted on its axis. Deep crimson intermingled with light shearing blackness. A thin man that had not been there previously occupied the space against the far wall; his attention rapt on Jandilyn and the baby. When it looked over to Mike, its mouth opened wide enough to swallow him whole.
Mike slid down the wall and grabbed his knees. Tears blotted his scrubs as he rocked back and forth.
Machines, nurses and doctors flooded around him as they did everything humanly possible to keep Jandilyn from leaving this plane of existence. Used medical supplies rained down on the floor like B-movie props.
“This isn’t happening. I’m having a nightmare.” Mike squeezed his eyes shut as he banged his head against the wall.
“What’s he doing here?” one of the surgical team asked, looking at Mike. Mike thought the doctor was referring to the thin man and he knew why he was there.
A nurse was coming to escort Mike out when the monitor screamed its flat-lined tone, she rushed back to the bed to charge the cardiac paddles.
