Binding Arbitration (56 page)

OUR PARTING IS SUCH SWEET SORROW

Where there is sorrow there is holy ground. Oscar Wilde

Libby

A sound awakened me in the darkest part of the night. I sat up, watching the rise and fall of Aidan’s chest through a slit of light in the blinds. He was sound asleep wound around me, like a shelter, with one of his hands under my short nightgown resting on my abdomen protectively. He was the life preserver, the place where I could unload my burdens, the thing that was always right where you knew it would be. It was exact in its placement, consistent, and affixed to me, so that no one person would be able to remove it—or his love—from me. I felt it as surely and was attached by it as strongly as the love I felt for Cass.

As if by magic, he was standing at the foot of my bed. I almost jumped away at the flash of instantaneous sparkling light. “Mommy?”

“Cass?” I moved toward him.

“I was wrong. You look pretty with babies in your pocket.”

I smiled and reached out to him. He came to me folding his little body into my lap, he was dazzling as the current that seemed to run through his body. “I miss you.”

“I know, but I’m happy and nothing hurts where I am and you know what else?”

“No, what?”

“I hit all my balls out of the park.” He paused thinking. “Daddy said I have baseball in my blood. I hope you don’t mind ‘cause I want to be a jock just like daddy.”

I tried to squeeze him tighter but my arms moved through his body. “I love you, and you can be whatever you want.”

“I gotta go. I just came to tell you that I love you and I’ll always be with you.”

“Oh, please don’t go yet.”

And he didn’t move away, but circled my wrist with his small angelic hands. “I circle your hands, I circle your heart. I mark with my brand, while we’re apart. I sparkle in both your joy and laughter, because I’m part of you ever after.” And instead of disappearing or fading away the little particles of shining glitter that made his iridescent form fluttered and stirred closer toward me and then through me, filling my chest cavity. And then I was sitting alone at the end of the bed with only Aidan’s gentle snore filling the contentment of my heart.

40

PLAYING CATCHER

The best ballplayer’s the one who doesn’t think he made good. He keeps trying to convince you.

Aidan 5 months later

Libby screamed, “Hurry!” For the tenth time since we’d gotten into Tank. The word rang through my head with the strumming regularity of the busy signal on the phone. I was torn between watching her anguished face and the road ahead. Watching the road was useless, since the blizzard left visibility to about two feet. We were lucky there were no others cars on the road, the temperature was hovering at about thirty, but she was sweating, and she turned the heater down as she dug her feet into the dashboard as another contraction hit her.

“I should have let them admit you into the hospital after the last office visit, when they said you were already dilated.”

“I would’ve sat there for two days.”

“At least we wouldn’t be stuck out in this.”

“This is a freak storm. It never snows in October.”

I turned my head and looked at her like she was crazy. She was technically right, but if looking around at the pounding snow she was obviously wrong. Another contraction hit her. She dug her fingernails into my arm, and as she did, a gush of water rushed down her legs. “My water just broke.”

I looked at her in wide eyed terror. “We aren’t going to make it to the hospital, are we?”

She shook her head as I pulled into a deserted Dunkin Donuts parking lot. I set the heater before I opened the backdoor and folded down the seats. I helped her into the back.

“Everything’s going to be fine.” I assured her, but I could see my panic mirrored on her face. “Emergency services is still busy.” How the crap is it busy? A gust of frigid air and snow swirled into the opening. I shut the door, and spread out a blanket we’d used for a picnic at Ravinia Park last week. “Tell me what to do,” I said with the phone wedged between my shoulder and my ear.

Libby steadied me. “We can do this. Thousands of women had babies before there were hospitals. I can do this.” Another contraction hit, forcing her onto her back in a contorted heap.

I wrestled items out of my baseball bag before I shoved it under her head. I tore through my tackle box looking for anything I could use. I was holding a glove in my hand when the pain subsided enough for her to focus on me again. “No matter what they told you, you can’t catch a baby with that.”

I smiled at her and started tearing the laces out of the glove. The glove I had used while winning the divisional championship. “We can tie off the cord with this.”

She reached out and stilled my hands. “You’ll ruin it.”

“Libby, our babies are about to be born. I couldn’t give a crap less about this mitt.”

Another contraction hit her and her hands went to her abdomen. I expected her to cry out or scream, but she just met my eyes firmly. As the pain rolled over her and away, she shook her head. “Soon, it’s going to be soon.”

“Crap.” I tore my sweatshirt over my head, removing my shirt and T-shirt before replacing the sweatshirt. “Let me get your clothes off.”

Another contraction hit as she tried to help me lift her hips. She was wearing a dress, so all I had to remove was her panties. I pulled them down her legs. I smiled. “Thank goodness for your affinity for those thigh highs. At least your legs won’t be cold.”

She smacked at my arms drawing my attention away from her incredible legs. “Yeah, they’ve gotten us into trouble more than once; it’s about time they bailed us out.”

I chuckled. “It’s only right that the babies are born in here. I bought this thing for our kids and we did an awful lot of practicing in here.”

She clutched my arm as I pushed her hem past her knees so it met her belly. I looked between her legs for the first time, then back at her. I thought I’d be freaked by what I saw there, but I was amazed. “The baby has a lot of hair.”

“Oh my God, you see the head?” She had no other choice than to push, her feet lodged against my knees. I pulled her toward me, as she pushed and groaned.

“Good job, babe. The heads completely out.” The baby’s airway was clear, and it was breathing on its own. “One more push, and he or she’ll be out.”

She squeezed my forearms as another contraction hit her and the baby slid out. “It’s the girl. You would deliver her first.” I smiled at her with so much enthusiasm my face hurt. “She’s beautiful.” I held her in my hands, while she bellowed at me, her little fist raised in warning. I had just been put on notice by a newborn that there was a new sheriff in town. I placed her on my shirt, tied off her cord and then cut it with wire cutters from the tackle box. I gazed at her one more time, before I laid her alongside Libby.

Libby admired her. She had the curliest hair I had ever seen. “Are you sure that blonde came out of me?” she asked. “At least we already know you have a small affinity for them.”

As if the baby knew we were watching her, she blinked open her eyes, the bluest I’d ever seen. Then she yawned and closed her eyes again serenely. Libby said, “Yep, she’s yours, make a grand entrance, then fall asleep.”

I wanted to hold the tiny little bundle and tell her that her mommy didn’t really mean it, but I was afraid that another contraction might hit Libby and she needed me to focus on that.

I met Libby’s smiling face. “One down, one to go, babe.”

She nodded her head in agreement before resting.

I had finally gotten through to 911. I was telling them where we were, what had happened so far, and if there were things that I should have done that I hadn’t… The operator assured me they were on the way, and then started congratulating me for winning the division. I had just had the most amazing experience of my life, delivering my own child, and this idiot thought a game was important!

Libby’s body contorted, I laid the phone down and caught my son as he slid onto home plate. He was beautiful, a bald, green-eyed monster. I wrapped him in my T-shirt and commiserated with him. “Our team only has two boys, and we we’re outnumbered because your sister and mommy have fiery tempers,” I said as I counted his toes. He blinked his eyes suspiciously and furrowed his brow. “Maybe we just leveled the playing field after all.”

I smiled at Libby. “I was thinking Duncan.”

“What? You never mentioned that name before.”

I eyed the parking lot signage. “We could call her Donut.”

Libby touched the baby’s hair. “Very funny.”

“You never told me where Cass’ name came from.”

Her lips formed a perfect little pout. “He’s named after you.”

“Huh?” I looked up from admiring my son.

“Cass is short for Casanova.”

I burst out laughing and startled my son into a crying fit. I shushed him as I gave Libby a slow smile. That was the thing she could talk to me about Cass. It hurt still, probably always would. But that burden was ours to share, and we never had to soften blows with each other the way we did for others. It was our love that made him, our love that missed him, and our love that would never let us forget.

I beamed at Libby. “You did it, babe, and not a single curse word. I’m so proud of you.” I kissed her lips.

“Rule number one, no cursing for mothers.”

“Amen to that.”

So that’s what we learned—loss with its unlimited power to destroy—could be overcome with love. And love was the thing that bound us together. It wasn’t arbitrary; it was contingent upon the soul’s discretion and once found it wasn’t easily abandoned.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Windy city writer, Elizabeth Marx, brings cosmopolitan life alive in her fiction—a blend of romance, fast-paced Chicago living, and a sprinkle of magical realism. Elizabeth resides with her husband, girls, and two cats who think they’re really dogs. She grew up in the city, has traveled extensively, and still says there’s still no town like Chi town. You can contact the author at
[email protected]