Footsteps—she heard them walking away and then quickly coming back. A tiny little cup of water shoved in front of her eyes. “Here, drink this. Sip it.”
“She okay?” Sherri shouted from across the room, though Josie realized it wasn’t a shout, it was a whisper, all of her senses distorted right now.
She couldn’t be doing this, falling apart in the one moment Laura needed her most. It was like some sort of cosmic joke, especially a nurse losing it in the most stereotypically obvious way possible. A delivery room faint? Come on. This wasn’t A Baby Story or some stupid trope in a television show.
“You did a great job helping Mike and Dylan take care of themselves,” Alex whispered, his hands on her shoulders, her head still dipped down, “but what about you? Have you eaten or had anything to drink other than coffee this entire time?”
I tasted you, she almost said. She stopped and thought for a moment, then shook her head slowly.
“Hang on,” he said.
The footsteps emerged and she heard Laura scream through gritted teeth, a low thrumming sound, guttural and visceral and like no other sound she’d heard a woman make before. She’d been to plenty of births, but that noise was like a song that came from the base of her spine.
Alex shoved a protein bar in her face.
She batted it away. “I can’t eat that.”
“Take a bite, trust me. Your friend is right on the verge and you want to be over there with her, right?”
Now she looked up and warm, concerned eyes met hers. She closed her lids, embarrassed. “I can’t believe I’m freaking out like this and I’m a nurse.”
“I’m a doctor and I’ve done it. It’s okay—it’s different when it’s your friend.”
“Really? You’ve freaked out when one of your friends gave birth?”
“No, I freaked out when my mom was in a car accident.”
“Oh.” Another shot of adrenaline poured through her, triggering deep memories of her own of parents in car accidents. Alarmed, she asked, “Did she make it?”
“Through the accident? Oh, yeah. She was injured but I freaked. No one wants to lose a parent that way, you know?”
No shit, she thought. I don’t recommend it. But now was not the time to talk about her past.
“Now, we can chit-chat or you can eat the protein bar and get your ass over there. Which is it going to be?” he said.
The tone in his voice gave her no choice, and she was grateful. Right now options were her enemies.
The protein bar purported to be peanut butter flavored, but it tasted like a combination of wax, sugar, and something else she couldn’t put her finger on. But she swallowed it, felt better, chugged the water, and stood. The room stayed in place, and as she scooted over to hold Laura’s hand she turned back and mouthed, Thank you.
He just smiled without showing his teeth, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door frame to watch.
She was just in time as Laura bent in half again, her face turning an impossible shade of purple, and Mike stooped down to look at the opening where his child’s head began to emerge.
“Laura, you’re so close,” he said.
Dylan craned over Laura’s shoulder—he was propping her up from behind and unable to see.
Josie saw a mirror, a rather large one on a stand in the corner, and caught Sherri’s eye. “Can I get the mirror?” she said.
“Ask Laura,” Sherri answered.
“Laura, do you want to see the baby?”
Laura pulled out of the pain and looked at her with emerald eyes that were glassy and exhausted and exhilarated all at once and said, “Yes, please,” and then bent down, pushing with all of her might as Josie wheeled the mirror over and positioned it so that Dylan and Laura could watch.
The next twenty seconds went by in such a flash that Josie, years later, would try to remember the exact sequence of events but never quite construct it. A growling scream from Laura, the sound of something popping, and then a slick, slithery sound as Sherri held the baby’s head and one shoulder and then told Laura to push. The sound of relieved laughter, silence, and a baby’s cry all mingled together into a joyful noise that would pull Josie through times of difficulty in the future.
The baby was, indeed, a girl. She caught that from a quick glance and as Sherri handled the wet, slimy, squalling little creature and placed it directly on Laura’s na**d br**sts, Josie looked over to see Alex wipe away a single tear from the corner of his eye and then step silently out of the room.
“Oh my God, she’s perfect,” Mike said, bending over. The baby wrapped four little fingers around his extended index finger and his tears crested over, one dropping on Laura’s chest, the other on his shirt.
Dylan stared at the baby slack-jawed, eyes wide but not wet, and then reached over tentatively to stroke her head. The baby opened her mouth and what had been a little, mewling cry turned into quite a lusty sound, Sherri smiling and gently laying a warming blanket over the baby.
Laura stared at the creature on her in complete, shocked silence. Josie was with her—right with her, in fact, because she couldn’t think of a single thing that she wanted to say right now, or could say, that would match the majesty of the moment. And then Laura said the one thing that made the tears come for every single person in the room, even Sherri.
“I did it,” she said quietly. With one finger she stroked the baby’s cheek and the baby looked up, eyes wide and calm, mouth closing, puckering, the cries gone, her face alert, following her mother’s voice. “Welcome to the world,” Laura laughed, all her pain seemingly gone, her face lit up with such rapturous joy that Josie thought it was a manifestation of the divine, right here in these seconds.
Mike and Dylan leaned in, both kissing the top of Laura’s head simultaneously, and then Laura whispered, “Welcome to the world…baby Jillian.”
Chapter Five
Josie got ready to go back to the hospital to see Mike, Dylan, Laura, and baby Jillian as if it were prom night. Five different outfit changes, two different re-dos on her hair, and make-up for the first time in ages. Add in the fact that the second Dylan would take one look at her she’d get teased for the next six months about her appearance, and all this fuss proved one simple thing: she was a complete idiot.
Alex had just finished a twenty-four-hour shift and there was no way that she would run into him. What she had was one big crush on a doctor she’d almost given it up for in the on-call room while her best friend was writhing in pain in another room—pain that was the result of doing exactly what Josie and Alex had almost done.