“Listen, sweetheart, don’t get upset with me about what I’m going to tell you, but if you keep eating ice cream, when the doctor weighs you—”
“Shut up,” I say, cutting him off. “Don’t start.”
We’re silent while I continue to devour the ice cream. I’m a machine. Once I finish the pint, I get up and throw it away while Eric, with grim countenance and biting his tongue, watches.
“Happy now?”
I nod.
“Extremely happy.”
We leave the kitchen and go to bed. We look away from each other until I finally fall asleep.
The next day, it’s very late when I wake up. Eleven in the morning.
When I get up, my stomach’s upset, and I curse the relatives of whoever invented vanilla ice cream with macadamia nuts. I’m heavy and feel like I’m idling.
I’m brushing my teeth when I see Eric in his dark suit. He’s so handsome. He comes in and gives me a kiss on the head.
“Get dressed; let’s go.”
“Aren’t you going to the office today?”
“No, I have other plans,” he replies.
After I get dressed, I go down to the kitchen and drink a glass of milk. Acidity and heaviness are killing me. We’re alone. Flyn’s at school, and I don’t know where Simona and Norbert are off to. I don’t ask.
When I get in the car, neither of us speaks. We don’t play music either. Eric drives through the streets of Munich and eventually navigates into a parking lot.
After we park, we walk hand in hand. The fresh air helps clear my head, and, eventually, I’m smiling. He doesn’t speak. He’s imposing in his dark suit, and I’m proud to be with him. Suddenly, I realize where we are, and I’m surprised.
“Don’t tell me this is where we’re going.”
Eric nods.
“That’s the bridge you visited months ago, right?”
I nod.
Before us is the Kabelsteg bridge, from which hang hundreds of love locks.
We cross the street, and Eric hugs me.
“I remembered you told me you liked walking here, and that you saw many of these love locks, right?”
If we’re here to do what I think, I’m going to drown him in kisses.
He’s serious, but he can’t fool me: his mouth is cocked.
“Are we going to put a lock on this bridge?”
Surprising me again, Eric pulls a red-and-blue one from his jacket. He shows it to me; our names are engraved on it.
“Where do you want us to put it?”
I put my hand to my lips. I’m so excited. I have a contraction. Oh, that hurt! His expression changes.
“No . . . no . . . no . . . Don’t cry now, darling.”
But the floodgates are open, and I’m inconsolable. The passersby look at us, and Eric leads me to a bench. He quickly takes a handkerchief from his pocket and dries my tears.
“Eh . . . sweetheart, why are you crying now? Don’t you like the idea of putting our lock on the bridge?”
I try to speak, but I can only babble.
Eric hugs me again. I squeeze him and try to calm down.
“I’m sorry, Eric . . . I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For behaving so badly with you lately.”
He smiles. He’s a love.
“It’s not your fault, darling. It’s the hormones.”
That makes me cry again. I have the hiccups now.
“The hormones . . . I have a lot of guilt around the hormones. I’m so angry lately about everything that—”
“Nothing happened, sweetheart. You’re scared. I understand.”
Eric kisses me. I kiss him.
Eric hugs me. I hug him.
I’m in love and crazy about my German. I point to one side of the bridge.
“That’s where I want to put our lock.”
We get up, holding hands, and walk to where I indicated. I open the padlock and give it a kiss. Eric gives it one too, and then we anchor it to the bridge. Afterward, he takes my hand and throws the key into the river, and we kiss again.
“So, where would you like me to take you to eat?”
I’m not very hungry. My body feels somewhat scrambled, but I don’t want to seem difficult.
“I’m dying for one of Björn’s father’s Brezns, so I can dip it in their special sauce,” I say with a big smile.
When we arrive at the restaurant, we see Björn all dressed up, like Eric, and talking to his father.
“Hey, what are you two doing here?” he asks.
“We came to eat,” I answer.
“She’s dying to eat one of your father’s Brezns with sauce,” explains Eric.
“I’m going to make one for you right now, beautiful,” says Björn’s father. “Please go to room 2. It’s quieter there.”
“Will you join us?” Eric asks his friend.
Björn nods, and, minutes later, I’m enjoying a rich Brezn. When we finish eating, we encourage Björn to come shopping with us. We have to buy the crib for Medusa. We left it until the last minute because we didn’t know the baby’s sex, but then we realized we couldn’t wait anymore.
We go to a huge baby store. In all this time, Eric and I haven’t done much shopping, and now we go wild. We buy the crib; Björn gives us a cute red stroller. We buy everything in sight. We give the store our address so they can deliver everything at home.
Three hours later, Björn and Eric can’t take it anymore, but I want to keep shopping. I suggest they go for coffee or a drink at a bar in the mall, while I go to take a peek at some of the other stores.
They like my idea, and I leave after assuring Eric a thousand times that I have my phone with me.
As I leave the store where I bought the bottle warmer, I’m tired and feel a new contraction. This one’s stronger than the others. I stop and breathe, and, when it passes, I continue on my way.
I try shopping at several more stores, but the contractions repeat. I tell myself they’ll pass. I pull out my cell to call Eric, but I just put it back in my jacket pocket.
It’s June 11, and I’m not due until June 29. I have to calm down. Everything’s fine. I’m not going to alarm him.
I see the Disney Store on the mall’s second floor. I rush to the elevator. I don’t feel like climbing stairs. A girl goes up with me. I like her camouflage pants. I push the button for the second floor, and she pushes the one for four. The elevator doors close and, suddenly, as it goes up, the lights go out, and the elevator comes to an abrupt halt.
The girl and I look at each other and frown. I have yet another contraction. This one’s the strongest and so painful that I drop my shopping bags. I grab the elevator handrail.
“Are you OK?”
I can’t answer. I try to breathe . . . breathe . . . as I have been taught in prenatal classes. When the pain subsides, I look at the young woman with short dark hair, who looks at me from behind a pair of aviator glasses.
“Yeah, don’t worry. I’m fine.”
But as soon as I say that, I notice a liquid running down my legs.
God, did I just piss all over myself?
I try to contain it, but it’s uncontrollable. My feet are soon soaked.
“Fuck . . . fuck . . . I can’t believe this!”
“Are you Spanish?” the girl asks. I nod, but I can’t talk.
My water just broke!
I start pressing all the buttons, but the elevator won’t move. I’m panicking.
The young woman takes me by the hand and pulls me away from the elevator panel.
“It’s OK. Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll get you out of here right away.”
She presses the button for the elevator alarm.
I begin to shake, and she grabs me by the shoulders to steady me.
“My name is Melanie Parker, but you can call me Mel.”
“Why do you speak Spanish?”
“Because I was born in Asturias.”
“You’re from Asturias wit
h that name?”
The young woman smiles, takes off her aviator glasses, and shows me her blue eyes.
“My father is American, and my mother is from Asturias,” she says. “I think that says it all.”
I nod. But I’m not here for a chat. I take my cell out of my jacket.
“I have to call my husband,” I tell her.
As I dial Eric’s number, I see the girl keeps pressing the Help button, and my feet are wetter and wetter. One ring later, Eric answers.
“Hi, dear.”
Controlling the desire to scream because of how frightened I am, I scratch my neck.
“Eric, don’t be scared, but—”
“Don’t be scared, me?” he asks, alarmed. “Where are you? What happened?”
I close my eyes. I imagine him losing it that instant. Poor, poor Eric. Then I get a contraction, and, leaning against the elevator wall, I slip to the floor. When the young woman sees me, she takes my phone from me.
“Hi, I’m Mel. I’m with your wife in the elevator at the back of the mall. The power has gone out, and it seems her water has broken. Call an ambulance, please!”
Eric must have said something because I hear her responding.
“She’s quiet . . . Yes, I said quiet. I’m with her, and everything will be fine.”
When she hangs up, she gives me back the phone and smiles.
“By the sound of your husband’s voice, I don’t think it’ll take him long to get help.”
I don’t doubt it. I imagine him running through the mall like a crazy person. Luckily, he’s with Björn. I pity anyone who gets in their way.
A new contraction makes me wince again. Why does this have to happen to me right now? This one’s deathly painful, and I can’t breathe. I feel like I’m drowning!
Mel watches me, utterly calm.
I’m surprised at her poise while I’m climbing the walls. But, of course, I’m the one in pain, not her.
With tremendous patience, she makes me look at her and breathe. The pain gives way, and she opens her cell phone and chats briefly.
“I’ve asked for reinforcements,” she says. “If your husband doesn’t get someone to get us out, my friends will.”
Is it getting hot, or is it just me sweating?
My neck itches.
“What’s your name?”
“Judith . . . Judith Flores.”
“Where in Spain are you from?”
“I was born in Jerez, but my mother was Catalan. My father’s from Jerez, and I lived in Madrid.”
I can’t say more. The pain is back. It overwhelms me. The young woman takes my hands.
“Very well, Judith . . . Look at me again. Let’s breathe. C’mon! Do it.”
I begin to breathe with Mel, and, when the pain passes again, I’m grateful.
“Thank you.”
She smiles. The minutes pass, and the elevator doesn’t move. I scratch myself. My cell rings. I guess it’s Eric, worried. Mel answers. She calms him down, and, when she hangs up, she holds my hand.
“You’re destroying your neck.”
We hear noises, but the elevator doesn’t go up or down. She fans me with a piece of paper she’s taken out of her backpack.
“So, are you having a boy or a girl?”
“We don’t know. Medusa won’t let us see.”
She smiles again; she understands the name.
“I told my daughter that, while I was pregnant, I called her Cookie. Whatever it is, it’ll be beautiful.”
“I hope so.”
I’m hot. It’s overwhelming and stifling, but Mel keeps her wits about her.
“I have a girl, and I know what you’re going through,” she says. “I can only tell you that you’ll forget everything. When you have your baby in your arms, everything will be erased from your memory.”
“That’s supposed to reassure me?”
“I’m sure,” she says with a laugh.
“How old is your daughter?”
“Fifteen months, and her name is Samantha.”
We hear the noises again. Mel’s phone rings. She picks up.
“We’ll be out of here in two minutes,” she says when she hangs up.
And she’s right. Moments later, the lights of the elevator come on, and we resume the ascent. Mel quickly pushes the Stop button; then she presses the button for the ground floor. The elevator starts to descend, and, when the doors fly open, I see four huge guys dressed in camouflage pants like Mel’s.
“Where’s the ambulance?” she asks.
One of the guys is about to respond when a very pale Eric pushes through. “Sweetheart, are you OK?”
I nod, but it’s a lie, I’m not good at all! He takes a glance at my neck and sees how red it is.
“Easy, easy,” he says.
Worried in the midst of the chaos, Björn takes a step toward me, but Mel stops him.
“Don’t overwhelm her now.”
“What?” he asks, perplexed.
“You need air . . . baby,” says Mel.
“Get out of my way . . . baby,” Björn replies, his voice deep, car keys in his hand.
“Listen, James Bond, I said you need to get some fresh air,” Mel insists.
“And I said to get out of my way,” he hisses, pushing her away.
People swarm around us, and I experience a new contraction. I squeeze Eric’s hand.
“Fuck, Eric . . .”
Mel pushes him and Björn aside and takes my hand.
“Look at me, Judith,” she says in a commanding voice. “Let’s breathe.”
I do as she says, and the pain passes. Without letting go, she gives orders to those uniformed like her.
“Hernández, Fraser, clear this,” she says.
Without hesitation, they do what Mel tells them. While I observe her leadership skills, Eric pulls back the bangs from my face.
“Tell me you’re fine, sweetheart.”
“I’m not, Eric . . . I think Medusa wants to come out.”
Björn looks worried.
“I just spoke with Marta,” he says. “They are waiting for us at the hospital.”
“Oh my God . . . oh my God,” I whisper.
There’s no turning back. I’m in labor!
It hurts so much, so much!
Eric kisses me.
“Easy, sweetheart. It’s OK. Everything will be fine.”
Chaos becomes tangible. Everyone’s looking at us.
“Where is the damned ambulance?” Mel asks. But nobody knows. “Fraser,” she says to one of the men, “go get the car. I want it at the north gate in two minutes.” Then she turns to Eric. “What hospital do you need to take her to?”
“To Frauenklinik München West,” he replies.
She turns around and barks, “Hernández, give me route and time. Thomson, call Bryan to let him know about the situation. Tell him to wait for us where we agreed. I’ll call Neill.”
Seeing I’m a little better, Björn leans down to me.
“Where did Superwoman come from?” he asks.
I laugh. I don’t know Mel, but I love her assertiveness. She’ll just as soon speak English, Spanish, or German. Once she gets off her cell, she says something to one of her colleagues.
“Follow me,” she tells Eric. “I’ll have you at the hospital in twelve minutes.”
“No need,” says Björn, looking at her. “I’ll take them.”
“In twelve minutes?” she asks.
Feeling cocky, our friend pats down the dark suit he’s wearing and touches the knot of his tie.
“In eight, Catwoman.”
Eric and I look at each other. I laugh. This is a duel of titans. Then the young woman smiles, and, undaunted by a guy like Björn, she passes her bluish eyes over his body with a heck of a lot of bravado and puts on her aviator glasses.
“Don’t make me laugh, James Bond.” She turns to Eric and me. “You have three options. The first is me, the second is James Bond, and the third is to wait for the ambulance
. You decide.”
“I’ll sign up for the first one,” I say decisively.
Surprised, Björn protests, and she grins.
“Follow me,” she tells Eric.
Eric looks at me, and I nod. I know it’s more than forty minutes to the hospital but, strangely, I think that if Mel says we’ll be there in twelve, we’ll be there in twelve. Eric picks me up and runs through the mall. An impressive black Hummer awaits us. We climb in, and, when Björn tries to go with us, Mel stops him.
“It’s better if you go in your Aston Martin.”
She closes the door, and the Hummer goes full steam ahead.
“It’s 4:15; we’ll be there at 4:27,” she says.
The pain is back. It’s intense, but I can take it. Eric and Mel make me breathe, and I appreciate their attention. I notice how the car goes at full speed and doesn’t slow down even once.
When we stop, Mel says, “We’ve arrived.”
Eric shakes her hand and gives her a huge smile.
“Thanks, friend.”
When I get out of the car, Marta is waiting for us with the wheelchair at the hospital door.
“Let maternity know Mrs. Zimmerman has arrived,” she tells a nurse. Then she turns to me. “C’mon, champ. When you’re ready, we’re going to celebrate at Guantanamera.”
“Marta, please!” Eric protests and I laugh.
“The time is 4:27. I promised you I’d bring you in twelve minutes, and I’ve fulfilled my promise,” Mel says to me. “Nice to meet you, Judith. I hope everything goes well.”
I grab her hand.
“Thank you for everything, Mel.”
“If I have time tomorrow, I’ll come by to meet Medusa, OK?”
“That’d be great,” Eric replies, very grateful.
“Will you bring Samantha?” I ask.
Mel smiles and nods. Moments later, the young woman climbs into the Hummer and disappears. We go in the hospital, and they take me directly to a nice room in the maternity wing.
My gynecologist tells me not to worry. Everything’s going well. Then she puts her hand inside me, and I see stars. I curse her entire family. Eric holds me, but all this makes him suffer. When the doctor takes her hand from between my legs, she snaps off the latex glove.
“You’re four centimeters.”
Everything hurts.
“Everything’s all right, doctor?” Eric asks.
She says yes. “It’s going like it’s supposed to go.” Then she gives me a reassuring pat on the leg. “Now relax and try to rest. I’ll see you in a little while.”
Tell Me What You Want—Or Leave Me Page 30
