Disappearing Acts (42 page)

Portia walked over and put her hands on my shoulder. “Get used to it, girlfriend.”

Portia and I agreed to talk tomorrow. She said that Arthur had told her she didn’t have to do any more court reporting, and when the baby was four months old she was going back to school. She didn’t know what classes yet, but she was going. Marie and I agreed to stay in touch, and she would let me know when she’d be back from California.

On the way home, I couldn’t believe how soft the leather seats were and how dark the windows were. I leaned back into the cushions and felt important. I just wished it could last.

*   *   *

The following week, Franklin and I were back to where we were three weeks ago. The house was a mess, and I’d been letting it stay like that just to be ornery. But Christmas was only four days away, and I was finally getting the spirit, so I decided to go ahead and give the place a good once-over, since my days waiting for the baby to get here were numbered. Franklin even agreed to help. And since he didn’t have any money, I went out and bought his kids some Christmas presents. He’s been back in the dumps, but I’ve been too preoccupied with myself to worry about him.

We had torn the place apart—disinfected everything, cleaned the woodwork, moved furniture, you name it—and finally, Franklin said, “Look, baby, why don’t we take a Scrabble break?”

“But where can we sit?” I asked.

“I’ll move some of this shit off the couch. When we finish, I’ll put all the plants and stuff back and finish the floors. How’s that?”

“Fine.”

“Set ’em up,” he said.

He got the egg timer out, and I was disappointed when I saw my letters. All I had were three
i
’s, two
o
’s, a
u
, and a damn
p.

Franklin was grinning. He gives it away every time when he’s got good letters. And as usual, he was shifting them back and forth, back and forth, until it got on my nerves. “Would you make your word today, please?”

“Gimme a minute, baby. I don’t wanna break your heart when you see this.”

After fifteen minutes of this, he was winning, of course. I was just about to make a word that would get me a triple word score, when all of a sudden it felt like I was going to the bathroom on myself, so I jumped up. “I’ve got to pee,” I said. “I’ll be right back. And don’t cheat.”

I sat down on the toilet and left the door open so I could watch him, because I’ve busted him before. Then this gush of water started coming out of me, and I knew this wasn’t pee. And it just kept coming! “Franklin! Franklin!”

“I’m right here. What’s wrong?”

“My water. My water. My water broke!” I was scared to death and couldn’t move. Was this it? Was this really it? I started crying and still couldn’t move. Franklin got up and stood in the doorway.

“I wish you could see the look on your face, like you just seen a damn ghost.” He started laughing.

“This isn’t funny, Franklin. Is it coming now? I don’t feel any contractions. What are we supposed to do? And look at the damn house. Why’d I have to pick today to tear it apart? Franklin, I’m scared.” I couldn’t remember a thing I’d been told in my Lamaze class, not a thing.

He just kept laughing. “Take it easy, baby, take it easy. What I wouldn’t pay to have a picture of you right now.”

“Franklin, this isn’t practice. This is real. I’m about to have a damn baby. I don’t believe this shit. I really don’t believe it.”

“First of all, is the water still coming out?”

I hadn’t noticed one way or the other. Then I realized it had stopped.

“Then get up slowly,” he said. I couldn’t believe how calm he was, but of course he’s been through this before. “I’ll call the doctor and tell him what’s going on.”

I heard him dial the number. I damn sure didn’t want the baby to be born in the toilet, so I stood slowly and pulled my panties up, then my blue jeans. I didn’t pull the top part over my belly, just in case the baby needed some breathing room. Baby? Up to now, it really felt like I was going to be pregnant forever and the baby was just a nice thought. But it’s on its way now.

“Baby, do you feel any contractions yet?” he asked.

“No. You think it’s dead?”

“She don’t feel nothing yet,” I heard him say. “Yeah, it’s been moving. For the past hour that’s all we been doing is watching it. Okay, I’ll watch her. It’s seven o’clock now. Twelve hours. Got it.”

“Franklin, what did he say?”

“Take it easy, baby. First of all, you need to lay down over here on the couch, and I gotta get my watch and write down every time you feel a contraction. Don’t you feel nothing yet?”

“Sort of like a flutter, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s supposed to hurt.”

“Well, look. Lay down. It was your turn, wasn’t it?”

“Franklin? Are you nuts? You mean to tell me you still want to play Scrabble, and I’m getting ready to have a baby? And look at this damn place.”

“You ain’t having it right now, and the doctor told me to keep you occupied and we
can’t
fuck, so will you make your word?” He was actually laughing!

“Oh-oh. Franklin, now I do feel something.”

“What does it feel like?” He looked at the clock, got one of the Scrabble pads, and wrote down the time.

“Sort of like cramps, but it still doesn’t really hurt.”

“Well, the doctor told me if you ain’t having ’em within ten minutes apart in five hours for me to call him back. He said you supposed to have this baby within twelve hours after the water break, or the baby might get infected.”

“Twelve hours? What time is it now?”

“Ten after seven. Look, I can see we ain’t gon’ finish this game in peace. Why don’t you go upstairs and lay down?”

“Am I supposed to walk up stairs?”

“What harm can it do?”

I got off the couch and walked up the stairs like I was handicapped. I was surprised I made it in one piece. I lay down on the bed and looked at the clock, and that’s when I felt something again. This one hurt a little bit, but not all that bad. Franklin turned on the TV. He had his little piece of paper with him and he lay down beside me. “How you feeling now, baby?”

“Tired,” I said, and I did.

“Then try to get some sleep. We may have our work cut out for us yet, so get it while you can.”

I closed my eyes and didn’t think I’d really fall asleep, but the next thing I knew, something pulled in my stomach, and it woke me up. I grabbed Franklin’s hand. “Franklin, it’s hurting now.”

He got out his pen and wrote. The clock said ten-twenty. Where’d the time go? “I think we should call the doctor, Franklin.”

“It’s only been three hours, baby. Not yet. You just lay back down and try to take it easy.”

So I did, but this was getting serious. Every time I closed my eyes, one would wake me up, and I would grab Franklin’s pants leg, his arm, something, and dig my fingers into him.

“Damn, these suckers is coming now, ain’t they, baby?” he said, with his little fucking pen in his hand.
His legs were crossed, and he had the nerve to get up and change channels.

I couldn’t have answered him if I had wanted to; I was too busy gritting my teeth. Then I dozed off, and was awakened again. Finally, I snatched his little pad out of his hands and tried to count how many I’d had so far, and that’s when another one hit me. I started crying. Franklin kept writing, and I kept crying. They were still only ten minutes apart, but by one o’clock, he called the doctor and told him. “When they’re five minutes? Okay, we’ll be there.”

“What did he say—can I come now?”

“Nope. If they’re not five minutes apart by five this morning, I’m supposed to take you then.”

“I can’t take this shit that long.”

“That’s what the doctor said, Zora.”

I lay back down, and pretty soon this was unbearable. I mean really. It seemed like someone was shooting me with darts. I knew one thing already—I wouldn’t go through this shit again if you paid me a million dollars.

“Come on, baby, let’s go,” Franklin said.

“What? What time is it?”

“Quarter to five.”

“It couldn’t be.” But it was, and Franklin’s little list was two whole pages. His eyes were beet red; he probably hadn’t been to sleep at all. I felt sorry for him. Then I sat up, although I didn’t think I could. “How are we getting there?”

“I’ve got a cab waiting downstairs.”

“What about my little bag? And I need to take a shower, Franklin. I know I must smell. And my hair!”

“The bag is right by the door. And if you want me to tell the cabdriver to wait till you take your shower and do your hair, fine.”

“Fuck you, Franklin! Did you call Judy?”

“I’ll call her when we get there. Come on, Zora.”

I had to walk slowly down the steps because these suckers were coming at me from every direction now. God, how do women do this three and four and ten times is what I want to know. I could hardly sit on the seat in the cab because it hurt. And why don’t they get these damn potholes fixed? I held Franklin’s hand so tight that it was wet.

“It’s okay, baby,” he said when he saw me banging my head against the glass. “You’re just having a baby, not dying.”

“Shut up, Franklin! Have you ever had a baby?”

“Yeah, twice.”

By the time we got inside and they examined me, I was only four centimeters. The baby wouldn’t be here for a while, the doctor said. “But it hurts,” I said. “We know,” was all the nurse said. “We know. Try walking around a bit. Where’s your husband?”

“He’s calling my coach.”

“Well, ask him if he’ll get you some ginger ale. That might help.”

Ginger ale? This bitch must be on drugs. Franklin appeared and told me Judy was on her way. He went to get my soda, and when he came back, I could smell the alcohol on his breath. I swear, I wished I could’ve drunk some too. Anything to stop this pain. I drank the soda, threw it right up, and the nurse told Franklin to keep walking me. So he did. Back and forth, up and down that damn hallway I don’t know how many times. Every few minutes I had to lean against the wall to hold myself up. Nothing should have to hurt this much, nothing.

Judy showed up about six-thirty. “How’s it going, Zora?”

I just looked at her and wanted to slap her.

“Come on, it’s my turn to walk you. You remember what we learned in class?”

“Fuck you and fuck that class,” I said.

“Zora, it’s that bad, huh?”

“No, I feel great.”

“They told me this might happen too, so I’m not gonna take it personally.”

After what felt like hours, I said, “What time is it?”

“Ten o’clock,” Franklin said.

I was lying down on a couch now, and the pain felt like it was shooting everywhere inside me, no matter which way I turned. Finally, the nurse came out and got me, measured me, and said, “Is everyone coming?”

Franklin and Judy got up. They wheeled me into this white room and put me on another bed. Then the nurse got out this IV thing, and I asked what that was for. “We’re going to have to induce your labor. You’re still only six centimeters. This’ll cause your cervix to open a little faster, but it may hurt a bit more.”

It couldn’t possibly hurt any more than this. But I didn’t care at this point; I just wanted this shit to be over. She wasn’t lying: This pain was worse than worse. Franklin and Judy sat at the foot of the bed, watching how big my contractions were when they appeared on a screen that I couldn’t see. It was like a damn game to them. And every now and then Franklin would whip out his bottle and take a nip.

“This is all your goddamn fault!” I yelled.

He started laughing, and that’s when Judy got up and came over to the bed to help me breathe right again. I swear I was trying to cooperate. The next thing I knew, I had a bowel movement right there in the bed. The nurse came in and said it was all right, that this was good. Give me a break, I thought. Right after she changed the sheets, it happened again. And then I felt like I had to go just one last time. I pleaded with her to let me go into the bathroom while she changed these sheets, and that’s when the doctor came in and started putting my legs up and everything, and
I said, “Please can’t I just go to the bathroom, just once more. Just once more.”

“You sure can, and you can go right here. Just slide down a little bit more.”

“I don’t want to do it right here,” I said. I was already kind of embarrassed but in too much agony to really give a damn. Okay, I thought, fuck it. If they want to see it, they can see it. It felt like this was the biggest bowel movement I ever had to make in my life. If I could just push down one good time, then I’d be ready to have this baby.

“We’re ready,” the doctor said. So I pushed. And boy oh boy, did it feel good. That’s when I felt something plop out of me, and the doctor said, “It’s coming. Keep pushing.”

“What’s coming?” I asked.

“The baby’s head’s in my hands. Just keep pushing, and we’ll be finished in a minute.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” I said. Franklin was standing up, looking down. “Come on, baby, I see it! I see it!”

I couldn’t believe this shit. It didn’t even hurt now, but I pushed with all my might, and that’s when everybody started screaming. All I knew was that I felt a great sense of physical relief.

“Congratulations, it’s a boy!”

“What?”

Then the doctor held up this little pale wailing thing, and sure enough, it was a baby. I started crying. Was that all there was to it? I looked at what he had in his hand, and if Franklin had got out of my way, maybe I could’ve seen him whole. Then he ran over to me and kissed me on the lips. “Thank you baby, thank you baby, thank you baby. We got us a baby boy!”

“Is he okay?” I asked.

“He looks fine,” the nurse said.

By now the doctor was doing some other stuff down
there, and the nurse had taken the baby over to this little scale to weigh and measure him and clean him up. And that’s when I felt something else fall out of me. Even though I knew I was tired as hell, I felt as high as a kite. Like I was floating. I kissed Franklin back and looked at him. “But it’s a boy,” I said.

“I know, and I’m happy.”

Judy walked over and kissed me and squeezed my hand. “You were great, Zora. You were just great. Congratulations!”