Authors: Criss Copp
I’m now two
days shy of being 39 weeks pregnant.
I
miss Blake so much my body is almost always in some form of a catatonic
state.
Jordan takes this as compliance
and a willingness to be with him.
His kisses
have escalated...
He likes to
allow his fingers to softly wander under the shirts that I wear at night, his
shirts... over my shoulders, down my bare back, back around and over my belly,
skirting across the top of the elastic in my panties, and then back to trace
over the curves of my butt, and then down my legs...
I should
hate him...
I should
want to destroy him...
But apart
from the disgust that I feel when he touches me in his intimate ways, I just
feel so fucking sorry for him!
He is
monumentally fucked up!
I know he thinks
we can be together forever... raise these boys together like they were his...
become a family!
I’ll never
belong to him.
I dream of
Blake... I dream of him loving me, and I cry when I wake after those dreams.
Right now,
I feel the need to go to the toilet.
This happens every night.
“Jordan?” I
call out.
Groggily he
replies from behind me, where he is sleeping curled up to my back, “toilet?”
“Yes.” I
reply.
WTF... what else would I possibly be asking for anyway?
He hops off
his side of the bed... grabs the key and comes around my side to unlock the
cuffs.
I inhale sharply as deep-set pain
radiates from my lower back, and across my stomach.
“
Arr
...” I verbalize.
“Summer?”
Jordan asks.
“Get these
things off me... I think my bladder’s about to explode!” I shout, but I know
what’s happening... and I’m scared, really scared!
Jordan
fumbles a little, before undoing the cuffs and lifting me up; carrying me
quickly to the bathroom.
As we turn to
enter the bathroom, a gush of water flushes from between my legs, followed by
another.
“Fuck!”
Jordan shouts.
He’s not stupid.
Psychologically fucked up... yes! But not
stupid!
“You’re
going into labor!” he tells me.
“No Fuck!”
I say sarcastically...
*
Four hours
into this nightmare and I’m in waves of pain... less than five minutes apart.
I scream as
the next wave overwhelms me... I feel like the boys have taken chainsaws and
begun to carve their way out of me in a reverse caesarean section.
The bliss
between each contraction though is intensely beautiful... I use this time to
zone out.
At the
beginning of this, Jordan was all good.
Now he can’t stand to see me in pain.
He is wandering aimlessly after each contraction... his hands are in his
hair at the back of his head.
Another
contraction is building... my cries are accompanied by tears of complete fear
and desperation... “Please Jordan... please... Please... PLEASE... PLEASE!!!”
I asked him
earlier to take me to a hospital... now I just say please.
Twenty
minutes more, and Jordan is crying...
“I’m so
sorry
Summer
... I’m so stupid... but I love you so
damned much!” he says, putting his forehead on mine and looking deeply into my
eyes.
I can tell
that he is sorry... that his insides are all churned up... that he needs help!
“Please
Jordan... phone for help.” I plead as the wave ends.
“I promise I’ll be so grateful...
forever!
I understand you’ll get into
trouble, but if you really do love me... you’ll let me go to the hospital and
get help... you’ll let me go!” I reason.
He reaches
his face forward, and kisses me... as passionately as one can when the
recipient refuses to return the kiss.
Another
wave is building.
He is pulling away and
I can see the tears in his eyes.
“You were
meant to be with me... I loved you first... I love you the most and I’ll never
get over you!” he sobs.
I am not
going to tell him how wrong he is... it’s not the time.
The pain is
beginning to take my breath away; he mumbles something and kisses my mouth
again... I recognize it as a kiss of goodbye.
I ride the
next wave as he fumbles to unlock his phone and dial a number.
“Paramedics
and Police...” he looks at me with such pain in his eyes that I hope he will
get the right help... I don’t hate him... I hope they won’t hurt him.
“It’s
extremely urgent!” he begins... his voice catching.
“I need to turn myself in for the kidnapping
of Summer
Rog
... um... Austen...Summer Austen.” He
sighs, slumping down next to me.
I place
my hand on his shoulder and squeeze, despite my enduring pain, I want to
encourage him to go through with it and get me home.
I am on the
couch, on my left side, and he is slumped on the floor immediately in front of
me.
His back is to me... He’s shaking...
his dreams are shattering, and he’s about to face the music!
“Thank
you.” I say as bliss returns fleetingly.
He’s giving
his number and address to the operator.
The operator must be asking him if he has any weapons in the apartment.
“No, no
weapons, just us.” He says in defeat.
He rushes
down the stairs to unlock his apartment door for the police and paramedics,
just moments before another wave of pain overtakes my body.
I begin to
pant and scream.
He’s back in front of
me, leaning over me and soothing my forehead.
“No, she’s
screaming because she’s in labor... please hurry!” I hear him say, before my
screaming gets too loud.
Blake.
“BLAKE...
BLAKE!!!” My Mom burst through the door.
I was
drowsy from an intense anger-fest the previous evening... it had lasted until
well into the morning.
“What!”
I moaned... and then I realised... Mom was
shouting at me in an excited and intense way...
What.
The.
Fuck!
I sat up
suddenly, almost colliding with her as she jumped onto my bed.
“Where is
she!
” I shouted.
“North
Shore!” she replied... tears streaming down her face.
Julie was
already pulling clothes out of my drawers and throwing them at me.
“Get
dressed... I’ll get my car out!” she demanded.
I threw
whatever the fuck Julie had thrown my way onto my body.
Julie slept in modest pajamas, since she had
started sleeping in my room to keep an eye on me, so she was covered... but I
didn’t suppose boxers were a good way to storm a hospital.
I ran down
the stairs and out the front door.
Julie
pulled the car up to me.
Mom was behind
me shoving my electric razor into my hands.
“I should
drive!” I shouted through the closed window.
“GET IN THE
FUCKING CAR BLAKE!” Julie screamed at me.
I wasn’t
about to argue with her now... she had that no nonsense look about her.
*
Julie was a
fucking psycho driver!
A forty minute drive
in twenty-five minutes!
I was grateful... If she had’ve tried to go
slower, I would’ve lost it!
Despite
this, I thought I’d nearly cut myself with my electric razor she was driving so
fucking crazy!
And I was shocked that
there were no cops around.
The moment
she drove up to the entrance area, I jumped out and didn’t even bother to check
her leave to drive off to go park the car.
The
adrenalin that had fuelled my body in the car into fits of uncontrollable
shaking now realised its potential.
I
could’ve won a medal in the Olympics for my sprint through the corridors of the
hospital.
The
maternity ward had police and nursing staff talking at the desk.
It was true then.
She was here!
I rushed desperately to the nurses’ station.
One of the
nurses behind the desk turned to me.
“Can I help
you?” she asked... she looked wary... I probably looked like a freak in my
wrinkled mismatched clothes, unkempt hair and no shoes.
“Summer...
my wife, she’s here.” I frantically explained.
She looked
at me like I was a loon.
A police
officer stepped up, “ID, son.” He asked.
“I didn’t
think to grab it!” I said.
“I ran out
the fucking door the moment I found out!” I reasoned.
“Then
you’ll just have to wait here!” he replied.
He went to turn away and talk into his radio.
“NO FUCKING
WAY!” I screamed, and grabbed his arm.
“I WANT TO SEE MY WIFE!”
The police
officer snapped back and pulled out a taser gun... pointing it at my chest.
“You’ll do
as I say, or you’ll be tasered Sir!” he threatened.
He gave me
that look that told me he didn’t give a fuck what I said, or who I thought I
was... he’d drop me the moment I made any move.
I was just
about to force myself through him and risk a flogging... or a tasering... when
one of the detectives handling
Summer’s
case came
around the corner.
I couldn’t remember
his name... I was too focused on getting through to see my wife.
“What’s
going on here?” he said... “Who’s shouting?” he demanded.
Then his eyes met mine and he recognised me.
“Jesus,
son... you look like shit!” he stated.
“Stand down Tony... this is the husband.”
The officer
still didn’t look convinced.
“You look
like a homeless person!” the detective explained to me.
“I am,” I
croaked.
“Where’s my wife...?
She’s my home!” I cried.
Clasping me
by my right shoulder, he led me to a suite where I could hear a woman’s screams
and the cries of a baby.
*
Felix had
already arrived, and he was being checked out by the medical staff.
I looked
over at my beautiful Summer, in so much obvious pain... tears fell from my
eyes... she was attempting to crawl up off the bed, screaming... she had
obviously not had that epidural or any pain medication for that matter... but
she was alive... my boys were alive.
She
saw me being pulled closer to the bed by a nurse.
“Blake!”
she screamed.
“Blake!” she repeated,
holding her arm out.
“We need
you to focus
Summer
... Just one more push, and he’ll
be out!” the female doctor between her legs said.
Summer was
ignoring the woman... her face was the picture of pain... she was sobbing... I
rushed the few feet left between us.
I was in
tears too.
I dropped my torso to her,
grabbed her face and kissed her fiercely.
She had an IV in her hand, and it was caught around me.
I went to dislodge it, but she held me
against her.
“Don’t go!”
she frantically pleaded in the high pitched voice of desperation.
I choked...
“I’m not going anywhere.” I forced out of my dry throat, past the huge ball
lodged there.
“Summer,
work with me here... let’s get this baby out on the next contraction, and then
we can put your family back together.” The doctor said sternly, yet somehow
kindly.
I got to
witness Kane being born... while I held my wife’s hand for the first time in
weeks.
Summer.
“Felix!” I
snapped at my precocious six-year-old.
He had painted a huge monster on his bedroom wall with Blake’s oil
paints.
He had then
proceeded to run down the hall shouting abuse at his brother, Kane, for
‘dobbing.’
Felix was
the complete picture of a younger Blake... apart from his eyes, which were like
mine.
In addition to this, just like his
Daddy, he loved to paint!
One could only
hope he would get better!
Funnily
enough, Kane was almost another Blake lookalike... There was no doubting the
paternal parentage of those two boys!
However... he had Julie’s hair, and again, he had my eyes.
The boys looked very much like each other...
there would be no confusion that they were siblings!