by K. S. Adkins
“Sensitive much?” I ask.
“What’s your middle name then, fucker?”
“It ain’t fucker,” I tell him. “It’s Michael.”
“Why’s Macy want to know my middle name for?” he asks.
“Because if it’s a boy she wants to use our middle names.”
He’s quiet for a moment and I go back to what I’m doing. Then he knocks on the table to get my attention. Looking up, he’s got a weird look on his face. “What?” I ask.
“You can’t let her give your kid my middle name, partner.”
“It’s supposed to be an honor, man. What’s your problem?”
“What’s your middle name again?” he asks.
“Michael,” I say. “I just fucking told you that.”
“What’s my middle name again?”
“Jackson,” I tell him, and oh. “Fuck.”
“Good to know I’m the thinker of the group. You need to Plan B that shit, partner. You name that kid Michael Jackson, we’re gonna be kicking all kinds of ass for him.”
“Point taken,” I tell him. “Still would be honored to give the kid your middle name, though. Back to the leads. What do we got?”
“Whatever,” he says. “Tapes ain’t bringing up nothing; not a single match. Those pics didn’t do shit, either. You got any ideas?”
“Not really,” I tell him. “She’s cleaning out her table at the lab tomorrow. Maybe I can snoop around there and see if I have any luck.”
“Fuck,” he says. “We gotta do something. I feel like we’re missing the big picture here. What does your wife think?”
“Truth?” I ask. “She won’t admit it, but she’s scared. I can tell by the shit she says that she thinks someone’s coming for her, and goddammit, man, I think she’s right.”
He nods, then adds, “You’ll protect your wife, partner. With your fucking life; I know you would. I’ll be there to help, too; ain’t gonna let nothing happen to either of them.”
I nod back, because really, what else could I do?
That night when my wife says goodbye to her friend, Venessa and Rogan go home and we go to bed. That night, I hold onto her with everything that I have because my gut tells me someone wants to take her.
Jonas is struggling.
I can feel it. He won’t admit it, of course, but he is. His worry covers him like a second skin. He wants to get me to the lab and back to the house where I’m safe. He’s not alone, though. I feel it too. I don’t want to make matters worse by saying what I’m thinking, but I feel it like he already knows. If I had to describe it, it’s like there’s this energy out there that wants to pull us apart. Sleeping last night was impossible. Jonas held onto me so tight I couldn’t move, and I could hardly breathe. But if keeping me close was a comfort to him, I wasn’t going to argue about his methods.
I’m hoping today’s prenatal checkup calms him a bit. Since it’s been well over a month I’m due to be checked, weighed, and measured. Putting on a smile for me, we stroll into the office hand in hand. Just having him here relaxes me. In my spare time I’ve been reading everything on babies and pregnancy and none of it eases my nerves. While he was in the shower this morning I made the mistake of Youtubing a birthing video. Three pushes, several screams, and a crowning shot later I shut it off, ran to the sink, and chucked in it. Fucking gross! Yes I’m a nurse, but I want no part of the delivery process. Especially when it’s my vagina being stretched out like an inner tube.
“Princess,” he says, nudging me getting my attention. “They called our name.”
On suddenly shaky legs we walk back, they weigh me, and I’ve gained six pounds, which are all in my ass. Handing me a paper gown I put it on open in the front and scoot back on the table while he stares at my tits.
“What’s that for?” he asks, pointing
“Vitals,” I explain. “Temp, BP, and pulse.”
“Do me,” he says.
I blink once to catch his meaning; then I laugh. He always lightens the mood. Standing up I roll it over to him, roll up his shirt to attach the Velcro cuff, insert the resonator onto the ditch of his arm, connect the ear pieces, and start pumping it so I can get his blood pressure. “BP is 130 over 90,” I inform him. “Feeling nervous, Captain?”
“Yeah,” he says. “This room is filled with plastic pussy and it smells like crotches.”
“Plastic pussy?” I ask, taking his temperature.
“All those diagram things. No man needs to see the inner workings of pussy. We just know we like it in there, but I didn’t need to see it like that. Kinda ruins it.”
“Temp is normal, pulse is good,” I tell him. “So I guess you don’t want to watch the birth?”
“That’s an option?” he asks, rubbing his jaw. Rolling the cart back, I ease back onto the cold table.
“It is,” I explain. “Although it’s not mandatory. Would you want to cut the cord?”
“What cord?”
“The umbilical cord,” I say. “During the pregnancy and delivery it’s the lifeline from me to the baby. After delivery, the cord is cut so the baby can take his first breaths on his own.”
“The hell you say.”
“The cord provides food and oxygen while he grows, hence the term eating for two. Once he’s out, the cord isn’t needed anymore.”
“I’m gonna regret this, but what’s the cord attached to?”
Taking his hand, I put it over my belly button and nod, waiting to see if he gets it. When he pales he looks up at my face then down to my belly several times before speaking. “I didn’t need to know that.”
Laughing he slowly shakes his head and sits back down. Two quick knocks and my OB comes in and makes introductions. She goes on to explain how far along I am, asks me if I was having any problems, measures me, and then offers an injection to help with the nausea, which I am all for. When she brings the needle out, I look up at him and see his eyes are wild and he’s sweating.
“Jonas,” I say. “Look at me.” When he finally focuses, I start to worry. “Do you have vasovagal?” When he looks confused, I repeat myself. “Do you faint when you’re around needles?”
“No,” he whispers, so I ask him to pull up a chair close to the head of the bed. Turning toward him so he can’t see it the doctor wipes my hip, injects me, and I made it a point to not even flinch.
“All done,” she says.
In an effort to soothe him I make a request. “Could my husband and I hear the heartbeat?”
“Certainly,” she says, exiting the room, no doubt going to grab the Doppler.
“How bad?” I ask.
“It’s getting better,” he whispers. “We can really hear his heartbeat?”
“Yes,” I whisper, looking at him. “You’re going to be fine, Captain.”
He nods while rubbing his hands in mine. I tell him I love him and watch him fight to not let the panic take over. I’ve never had a panic attack, but to see my big, strong husband suffer from one was not easy. Deep down, I hope thearing the heartbeat won’t send him over the edge.
All sorts of dirty thoughts were running through my head while my wife played nurse for me. Even the plastic pussy all over the room couldn’t stop my woody. But seriously, I could have done without all the reminders that my kid is hanging out inside his mother like he’s on a rappel line like a mountain climber. Cut the cord? I’m supposed to do that?
That’s when the panic started. I’m expected to do things. I thought my work was done. I mean, she’s carrying my kid. I hold her, she pushes; game, set, match.
When the doc pulled out a needle as long as my arm, the room started to close in on me. Heat took over my body and I was close to hitting the floor. Macy noticed and had me sit facing her. Holding onto her, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the doc jab that fucking sword into her hip, but I decided to focus on my wife. She didn’t even flinch.
Fuck.
When the doc says “All done,” I want to groan. Yeah, the needle may be done, but I’
m not. I ain’t feeling so good. Then she asks to hear the heartbeat and the fog lessens a bit. She asks me how bad it is so I lie and tell her it’s getting better. It’s not getting better, but I am managing it. Then I felt excitement creep in a bit. Asking her if we can really hear it, she confirms, and the fog lessens some more.
She promises me I’m going to be fine and I choose to believe her. The doc rolls a machine in and explains it’s called a Doppler. Macy pulls her gown away and the doc puts a gel all over her tiny bump. She shivers and giggles. The fog lessens again. Watching her, watching the doc, and watching a screen that looks like some deep sea diving equipment, I wait to hear it.
Nothing.
The doc tells Macy to lean onto her side so she does; then it’s like the room explodes in sound. She squeezes my hand, but I’m just staring. The fuck is that?
“The heartbeat is strong,” says the doc, and Macy squeezes tighter. “Jonas, take this,” she says handing me the wand. “Hold it here.” I do, and the sound gets louder. Whomp. Whomp. Whomp.
“Move it slowly if you like.” But I can’t. I’m happy where I am. “That’s his heart?” I ask in wonder.
“Strong like his daddy,” says Macy. “Apply a little more pressure, Jonas, see what happens.” I do as she says and the whomp whomp whomp has a whoosh followed by another whomp. My eyes tear up. That’s my kid in there, connected to his momma by a cord where she feeds him and gives him what he needs to survive.
Panic gone.
Just peace now. Looking up at the doc, I motion for her to take the wand back. She does, wiping Macy off and closing her gown. “Congratulations, Mom and Dad. See you next month.” Then she quietly exits the room and I help my wife sit up.
“Well?” she asks quietly. “Pretty amazing, huh?”
“You scared, Princess?”
“A little, yeah,” she whispers, putting her shirt on. “But I think I’m more excited than anything.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” I vow. “I’ll be right there with you.”
“I know, Captain,” she says, kissing me. “Now let’s get us fed before I have to hit the lab.”
On our way out, she sets up our next visit, we hit the elevator, making our way down to my truck. The entire time I can’t stop watching her. This baby shit is terrifying but she doesn’t let it faze her. She just smiles, rubs her belly, and keeps on going. If I could make a wish, it’s that our kid gets her strength, because she has that shit in spades.
He impressed me today. I know his struggle with anxiety is hard for him, especially when it comes out of left field. He isn’t used to the protocol; I am. I should have prepped him for the needle, be he rebounded well. I’m so proud of him. Watching him hold the Doppler perfectly still, eyes filling up; he was in awe. I should know; I am, too. Women “feel” pregnant, they feel the shift; men don’t. Sure they recognize their lives are going to change, but they don’t understand it on the same level we do. I wanted him to hear it, get as close as possible to it as he could, and he did. It was beautiful.
Pulling up to the lab, we get out and walk in together. He’s in cop mode now. He’s hyper-diligent about our surroundings. Almost like he thinks the threat could be here. I sign us in and walk down to my lab. When I open the door and see Ben there I ask Jonas for a couple of minutes to explain to him why I’m leaving, and that I can’t help him anymore. He nods reluctantly and waits outside the door. He advises me to keep my phone nearby as well, so I do.
Walking in, Ben looks up briefly then ignores me to go back to his work. Cleaning up my station takes minutes. Forwarding my data, even less. Uploading my resignation, I add the addresses it needs to go to and hit send. Grabbing the disc my notes are on, I put it in my bag and prep myself for the blow I have to deliver.
“Ben,” I say. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure,” he says, saving his work. “What is it?”
“I’m dropping out of the program for a while,” I tell him. “My resignation was sent in and I also gave you a full recommendation on your project.”
“That’s it?” he asks.
“I feel like I owe you an apology,” I explain. “But I hope the help I was able to give was enough. Now I need to focus on my family.” When he just looks at me with a blank stare it bothers me, so I continue, hoping he’ll understand. “Maybe one day I’ll finish it but for now, it’s just not a priority. I’m only going to be available in a conciliatory fashion. I want to focus on being a mom.”
“Then that’s what you should do,” he says.
“I got married a couple days ago,” I tell him. “So I want to prepare for the baby and —”
“Married huh?” he asks. “Big wedding?”
“No,” I tell him. “Very small, just a few close friends.”
“Is that right?” he asks, and at my nod he continues, making me feel like shit. “Yet I wasn’t invited.”
“It’s not like that,” I tell him. “It happened so suddenly and I didn’t have time to —”
“I get it, Macy,” he says. “It makes sense you’d want your friends there. So not only are you dropping the program and giving up on your dream, you’re also dropping me. I hear you, Macy, loud and clear.”
“Ben,” I try. “It wasn’t like that.”
“So you’re saying you wish I had been there? Stood there pretending to be happy for you, watching you marry another man? Trust me, you didn’t want me there anymore than I wanted to be there. You made a huge mistake, Macy, and one day you’ll see that. And you’ll resent your husband for making you do it.”
“He didn’t make me do anything,” I snap at him. “I can always come back; my resignation was left open for reentry. I’m still consulting, dammit.”
“Maybe he didn’t make you,” he snaps back. “But he certainly didn’t talk you out of it either, did he? The second the board gets that resignation, you’re done. They’ll never contact you, and why should they? You just gave them your work and their blessing to do whatever they want with it. They won’t consult you, ever.”
“I’m done, Ben.”
“Never pegged you for a quitter, Macy.”
“And I never pegged you for a dick, Ben,” I tell him. “You can’t be happy me for me? Fine. Personally, I think you’re pissed because you won’t have me to fall back on anymore. But guess what? I have a husband and kid to think about, and neither of those things apply to you. That formula will always be safe,” I growl. “I didn’t give shit away. I made sure of it.”
“You’ve put me in my place, Macy,” he says. “I guess we’re done here.”
Packing up his things he makes a quick exit, he doesn’t look back, he doesn’t say goodbye, he doesn’t say anything.
Sitting there alone, I feel like the world’s biggest bitch. I’m not quitting, dammit. I wasn’t lying when I said maybe one day I’ll pick up where I left off, but right now isn’t that time. If I was honest with myself, had I not been pregnant, would I have resigned? No. I’d take danger on and laugh in its face. But I can’t do that now. I’m carrying a baby. My actions have an effect on my baby. I would never put my baby in harm’s way for science, no matter how much I love science. I love my baby more.
Mumbling to myself “I’d do anything to keep my family safe.” Packing up my things, I sling my bag over my shoulder and give a silent goodbye to the lab that has been a second home for me. I’m anxious to get back to the only home I ever want to know, my husband. A husband who also built a lab for me to use so when the time is right, I don’t even have to leave the house, and I don’t have to endure Ben crawling up ass every chance he gets, either.
This tracker is a blessing and a fucking curse. It’s not secret I have a problem with my temper. But so help me god, that motherfucker may not walk outta here. She was trying so hard to be nice, and he’s handing her guilt. My wife may have a will of steel, but she never hurts people on purpose, except for maybe Chyna. But I can’t fault her for that, she did that for me. Ben was a l
eech. She’s right. No, I didn’t talk her out of it, he’s right. But even still, he hurt her because he wants what he can’t have. He wants what’s mine.
Listening to him cut her down prevented me from leaving this spot. I was going to snoop, but now I’m waiting for him. My wife is saying goodbye to her friend tonight; we’re having a small get-together at Lush to see Jules off. Miguel, one of Venessa’s boys, has info he wants to share, so yeah, this is the last thing she needs right now.
When Ben walks out the door I follow; as he signs himself out, I wait. I hear Macy mumble to the baby about keeping her family safe, and any thoughts I had of taking it easy on Ben go out the window.
“Yo, Ben,” I say, catching up to him as he clears the doors.
“What do you want?”
“I was going to say something like hey, better luck next time, or clearly the better man won, but I decided to go with you ever talk to my wife like that again I’ll break your goddamned neck. How’s that?”
“Clearly Macy’s taste in men has improved,” he says dryly. “So far you haven’t hospitalized her, but maybe you’re saving that until after the honeymoon?”
“Are you suggesting I’d hurt my wife?”
“I’m not suggesting anything,” he says. “It’s a matter of time until you do hurt your wife. Guys like you can’t help themselves. First, you get her to need you; then you get her to quit the one thing that gives her purpose. You’re that selfish because you know she’s better than you.”
“If I were you, I’d watch that mouth of yours,” I tell him, approaching. “The days of you attaching yourself to my wife are over. You think I’d hurt my wife? Imagine what I’m capable of when I think someone is trying to get between me and my wife.”
When we’re inches apart and eye to eye, I lay it down. “I remember you, Ben. Following my woman around like a goddamned puppy, willing to do anything for attention. Even while you were beggin’ for scraps she was looking for me to complete her. She wanted me. I ain’t perfect partner, no man is, but I’d kill for my wife, my kid. She gave you your walkin’ papers, so take my advice and run.”
