by B. N. Toler
“He’s quite the kicker.” Hudson smiled goofily as he held his hand on my belly.
“Yeah.” I nodded, looking in his big brown eyes.
“Let’s hope he gets his Uncle Hudson’s good looks,” Hudson joked.
“And my awesome sense of humor,” Whit added.
I rolled my eyes at them.
“Let’s hope he doesn’t get Aldo’s lack of coordination,” Whit also added with a smirk.
“How do you know it’s a boy?” I asked.
“Just a guess,” Hudson piped.
Whit sat on the other side of me and placed his hand on my belly. “I can’t wait to meet the little guy.”
Whit and Hudson marveled at the magic of my pregnancy. I resented it. I hated myself for it, but I attributed the feelings to the loss of Thomas. I hated my body and my belly. I hated myself for bringing another healer into the world that would live on the run as we did. My brothers had no apprehensions. They loved putting their hands on my growing belly and feeling their soon to be niece or nephew kick at them. Hudson would push energy into my belly and send the baby into a free brawl of somersaults and kicks. It made me happy to see them excited. The love we shared with each other was unexplainable. We were all we had in the world. It was something we had always known, but recent events had reiterated it.
Through all the anger, sadness, guilt, I also felt grateful for my brothers. They were my backbone, what held me together when life seemed to be slowly trying to rip the seams of my existence apart.
In a most trusting move, I told Whit and Hudson they could name the baby. I picked the middle names, but they could pick the first names.
“You’re serious?” Whit asked.
“Yeah, I think it would be kind of cool.” I shrugged.
Hudson looked at Whit. “Billy Bob it is.”
“Okay, I will kill you if you name my child Billy Bob.”
“I like Bubba. Has a nice ring to it.” Whit grazed his chin with his long fingers.
“Okay, I take it back. Forget it.” I shook my head.
“No, we’ll pick something good, Al,” Hudson promised.
They both laughed and I couldn’t help but smile as I listened to them spout name after name, mostly hideous ones, like Ernest or Esther to rile me up. I wouldn’t get to know the name they picked until the baby was born. They were very secretive and wouldn’t even give me a hint. I picked Lucille, as a middle name for a girl, after Lucy, and Jenson for a boy, Thomas’s middle name. I became aware at some point, they might name my child after a car or something stupid, but a deal was a deal. I’d have to lie in the bed I made.
As my estimated due date approached, we really could only narrow it down to a two week time frame, we began searching for a mid-wife. We found a Cuban woman named Maela in Little Havana who was here illegally, but had been a mid-wife in Cuba for many years. My brother Hudson had taken Spanish throughout the years and though limited in his abilities to actually speak, he was able to communicate somewhat with Maela.
I know my brother’s second biggest fear, other than me dying during child birth, was having to deliver the baby. Not exactly the most endearing thought to me either. Regardless, they would be nearby to help me if I needed it. Everything was set and now we were just waiting, each of us anxious, me more so than anyone, obviously. I wished Lucy were there to guide me, although she never gave birth herself so she might not have been much help. I tried reading some books, but could never finish. It was all so surreal. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea I was actually having a baby. When I had envisioned myself having children, which was maybe once, I was holding the hand of my husband, while he dabbed sweat off of my forehead with a cool wash cloth, repeating how strong and beautiful I was as I pushed. This would be way different with my brothers and sweet old Maela, but I was grateful for the support I had.
It was finally the second week of my estimated due date and I was huge and very uncomfortable. My little squirt was doing a kick boxing routine inside of me and I had been miserable all day. My emotions were running rapid again. I love the baby, I resent the baby, angry at Lucy, angry at Thomas, sad, happy, and anxious. As I lay in my bed, mulling over my anxiety, Hudson knocked on the door.
“Come on, Aldo. We’re going out.”
“We are?”
“Yeah, it’s a nice night, and we should go out for dinner.” He shrugged. “You need some help up?” He mocked me.
“I know you’re just trying to be funny, but I actually do.”
He pulled me up. “You look beautiful Aldo.” Hudson smiled.
“Shut up.” I smiled back, in a thanks kind of way.
The three of us went to a little Mexican restaurant and then went for a walk on the beach. While we walked barefoot through the sand, we contemplated our next move, once the baby was born. We had been very frugal with the money Lucy had given us, but eventually we would have to heal. We also needed to move.
“New Mexico is next on the point list.” Hudson kicked at the sand.
“What’s after that?” Whit asked.
“Oklahoma,” I added.
“Ugh,” Whit moaned.
“We can’t go until the baby is born.” Hudson shrugged.
We stopped and sat down on the beach. I could hear the concern in my brother’s voices as we discussed our situation and guilt overwhelmed me. I had put us in this situation. The baby was slowing us down and would ultimately put us in more danger. On top of that, my precious baby would be in danger. We would have to protect it and hide it. Was this the life a child deserved? It deserved a father. If I could find Thomas, the five of us could be a family, but how could I find him? Or could I find him? He could be dead. I rubbed my belly as we sat on the beach, thinking about all of the what ifs.
“Come on, guys, let’s go. It’s getting late.”
Whit jumped up. Hudson followed and they both looked down at me, each extending a hand to do a team lift. I laughed because it was necessary. As they pulled me up, I felt something sharp shoot to my groin. My breath hitched and I lurched a little surprised, but the pain was gone so quickly. Warmth spread down my leg, and realized I was peeing on myself. Shit.
“What’s wrong?” Hudson asked.
“I think I’m peeing on myself,” I laughed, embarrassed. As I moved, more fluid trickled down my leg.
“Aldo, I think your water just broke,” Whit stammered, wide eyed.
“Does that mean it’s time?”
Present
After my bath, I dry myself, blow out my candle, and in complete darkness dress in a t-shirt and panties at my closet. Suddenly, I feel a presence. I whip around to find someone standing right in front of me. It’s too dark for me to make out the person’s face, but I smell cologne… it must be a man. I stand still and listen, but I can’t make out the sound of energy. My pulse races, and as it does, my intruder’s breathing becomes heavy. I take a deep breath and step back.
“Who are you?” I ask calmly, hiding my immense fear.
“Aldo.” His voice rings through like church bells on Sunday. The most beautiful sound I have heard in many years.
I jump onto him, and he stumbles backwards. I’m overwhelmed, feeling his arms around me, and I kiss him as tears begin streaming down my face. I grip him tighter.
He steps back and pushes against me, as if he’s a parent trying to detach a clinging child who doesn’t want to be left at pre-school. He continues his effort until he trips on my air mattress and falls backward onto it.
I continue to kiss him as I straddle him, when suddenly he flips over on top of me and holds my hands back. His erection presses against me through his pants, and his breathing is heavy. “Damn it, Aldo. Stop it!”
I let my head fall back against the mattress, not sure of what is happening. He smells so good. Not quite like I remember, but still exquisite. My lips and face tingle from where his facial hair has rubbed. My Thomas. I found him. Or he found me. Either way, he’s here and alive. “What?” I finally muster.<
br />
“What the hell are you doing here?” His tone is harsh.
“This is my apartment.” Why would he ask such a question?
“No, I mean here in Virginia.”
“Looking for you. I’ve been looking for you for almost five years now. I’m so happy you’re alive,” I sob softly. “I thought you were dead.”
“You wasted your time.” He lets his head fall onto my chest and releases his grip from my arms.
“What? Why?” I ask wounded. My heart sinks deep within my chest.
He pushes himself off of me and walks over to the kitchen, where he flips on the light. “Get dressed. We have to go.”
“Go where?” I sit up.
“We have to get you out of here.” He puts his hands on his hips, taking a deep breath as if trying to calm himself down.
“Why?”
“Damn it, Aldo, just get dressed. I’ll explain on the drive.” He throws his hands up and turns away from me.
“Where are we going?” I pull my knees to my chest.
“I’m getting you out of here.”
“Are we going together?”
“Dress!” He shouts at me over his shoulder.
“I have to work tonight,” I stammer, unsure of why I’m even mentioning it at this point.
“You’re not going to work.” He laughs much like a father would at his child for saying something ridiculous. I stare at him a moment. What was happening here?
I stand up and look around my apartment for my red boots. I find them sitting on the other side of my bed so I quickly bend over and slide them on. As I do, my shirt rises up, exposing my behind wearing nothing but a thong.
“Oh my God, please put some clothes on,” Thomas begs. I eye him for a moment. Has he changed? Why is he being so distant?
“What the fuck, Thomas?” I yell back.
His jaw drops.
“I’m not going anywhere with you. I spend years looking for you, thinking you’re dead and then I find you, only to have you act like a dick to me.”
“Aldo, I know. Please get dressed. You’re killing me,” he sighs, turning his head away from me.
“Why did you leave us?” I begin to sob again. He’s alive. I found him. Then it occurs to me—he’s alive. He’s been alive this entire time and hasn’t entered my dreams once.
“I had to.” He still doesn’t look at me.
So many emotions run through me. I hate him. I love him. I want him. I want to run away from him.
But only one wins over.
I want him.
I want the gratification of feeling him once more, connected to me, making love to me. Not in my dreams, but for real. I deserve that. It’s the one thought that has kept me honest to him all of these years. I have loved no other nor let another love me. He is it. I walk toward him as I release my long hair from its tie. I shake my hair down, running my hands through it to tame it.
He looks at me.
To coin another Lucy Lawson ode of wisdom, although I’m sure she’d have an aneurism if she ever thought I used it in this instance, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.
My body is honey….
I slowly peel my off my shirt, leaving nothing, but my black lace thong and red cowboy boots. My confidence is unwavering now. I’ve come too far to feel self-conscious or embarrassed.
He turns towards me as I walk around the counter where he stands looking as if he is about to be pounced on by a wild animal. He backs away a bit, as if scared to get too close.
In the light, the gleam in his gorgeous eyes makes my knees weak. His eyes are darker somehow, but I see so much more in them than when I was just a girl. Mostly, I see home. I see a time when Lucy was alive, my brothers were close by, and the only care I had in the world was whether I’d die and never know what it would be like to kiss Thomas. I feel like that seventeen year old girl at the restaurant again, but I’m not. I’m a woman. I’m not scared or afraid to show him that. I convince myself if I show him I’m not some young thing that needs to be coddled, he’ll relax. I grab his shirt and pull him to me. He stiffens. I rise up on my toes and gently lick his upper lip with the tip of my tongue, raising my eyes to meet his.
“Aldo, I—”
“No. We can and we will.” I run my hands down his chest. His body is not exactly as I remember it, but it’s still firm, and I remind myself that this is not a dream. My hands are actually touching him for real. “I don’t know what’s happened or what will happen, but I know right now I’m not dreaming and I am going to have this.” I grab his shirt near the collar and rip it open.
His eyes widen, stunned by this move. “We have to leave.” He insists, still frozen.
“We will, but I need you first. I need to know you still love me. Do you still love me?” I kiss his chest gently as I run my hands down his obliques.
“Aldo, you don’t under—”
“Don’t answer,” I whisper quickly. “Just give me this, and if you don’t want me afterwards I’ll leave. I just have to have you.” A tear slides down my cheek. I know it could never be that simple.
He pulls my chin up and gazes into my eyes. “We can’t do this.” He whispers gently, trying to keep me from becoming hysterical.
Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain shoot through my head as the apartment starts to shake, but the pain vanishes quickly. The sound of my candle in the bathroom crashing to the ground makes me jump.
Thomas grips my arm, his eyes wide as he looks around until it stops. He eyes me cautiously.
“Was that an earthquake?” I ask panicked, pulling myself into him as if his body will protect me against a natural disaster.
“Must have been.” He stands completely still.
I look around the apartment, but nothing seems to be damaged.
“Thomas.” I stare up at him, not deterred by even an earthquake. He looks down at me and I see confusion in his eyes. I know he is torn. He’s fighting what he wants to do versus what he should do.
“I can’t do this, Aldo.”
“Yes you can.” I kiss his cheek. “Thomas, if you don’t do this, I will shrivel up and die.”
He stares back at me, and sadness spreads across his face. “Do you really mean that?”
“For five years I have been looking for you. I’ve been so lost without you.” Tears run down my face. He runs his finger across my cheek and kisses my lips softly. He stands back and eyes me. Kissing him is not as I remember, but this is real and not in my dreams. He steps away from me again, fighting the temptation.
I follow and press my body against him as I caress his firm chest with soft kisses, but he stands still as a statue, offering no encouragement. I fumble at his belt, trying to unbuckle it.
“Aldo, you—”
“Shhh.” I stop him. I finally get his belt undone and unbutton his pants. I slide my hand down and stroke his erection.
He gasps, then grabs my hand and pulls it out. “We don’t have time for this.” He fumbles with his belt, trying to buckle it.
“Yes, we do.” I grab his hands and fight him for control of his belt buckle. Finally, I take his hand and kiss his palm before placing it on my breast.
He inhales deeply.
“Don’t you want me?” A flash back of the night I pushed myself on him in my dreams races though my mind.
“Yes. I mean, no. I mean...” He pulls away from me, but this time makes distance. “Get dressed.” He walks into the bathroom and shuts the door.
Past
By the time my brothers got me to Maela, I was in agony. No one ever told me contractions would feel like my worst menstrual cramp magnified by infinity. I was soaked from the waist down and in the worst pain I had ever experienced in my life.
“This may not be a good time, but I hope you know you’re cleaning the upholstery in the car after were done here,” Whit joked, trying to make me laugh.
I glared at him.
Maela, my illegal immigrant, non-English speaking, mid-wife, spoke to Hudson
in her native tongue, and indicated for my brothers to take me into her labor room. Two young girls, who I assumed were Maela’s granddaughters, hurriedly lay clean sheets across a small bed with a cherry stained wooden head board.
My brothers lay me on the bed, and Hudson spoke to Maela. I assumed he was asking her what was going to happen next.
Maela grabbed Hudson’s hand and smiled, reassuring him, I thought. Whit kneeled beside me, holding my hand as I squeezed his, suffering my way through a contraction. When I looked up I saw Maela trying to shoo Whit and Hudson out of the room.
They both looked at each other. Hudson spoke to her again, but her response was to shoo him. “She wants to undress you, Aldo, but we’ll come back afterwards,” Hudson reassured me.
“Okay,” I managed, through clenched teeth as another contraction seized my body and I moaned in agony.
“We’re right out here.” Whit squeezed my hand and left.
Maela smiled softly at me, a toothless smile for the most part, before she barked orders to the young girls, and they helped me undress while I lay on the small bed. Maela gave me a white gown to wear while one of the young girls brought me a cool wash cloth, and the other propped pillows behind my back. Maela brought in a large white bowl with water and several folded towels and laid them on a table beside the foot of the bed. One of the young girls lay a white sheet across my lower body. Maela gently grabbed my legs and positioned them so my knees were up, but my legs were spread apart. She spoke to me in her native tongue and motioned with her hands.
