Page 108 of Torch Songs

So Guthrie it was.

Guthrie sat in the back of the car and held her hand, listening to her gush about her father’s wedding and how the dreamy guy he was marrying had literally carted her in his arms like in the movies.

“Yeah,” Guthrie said dryly. “That was something special. How’d you happen to go into labor on their wedding day again?”

“Dumb fucking luck,” she panted.

“Total fucking stress,” Elton chimed in from the front. “She, Christiana, and Nancy Pavelle—did you see her?”

“Nice lady with the baby’s breath in her updo?” Guthrie asked.

“Yeah,” Elton said. “She’s Yoshi’s sister-in-law. I guess she, Larx, and Yoshi are the sarcastic terrors of Colton High.”

Guthrie chuckled, and Livvy shook her head.

“You think it’s funny, but they’reterrifying. All the kids are like, ‘Omigod, I forgot to turn in my English assignment for Mr. Nakamoto, and now Mrs. Pavelle’s threatening to put a snake in my locker!’”

That made GuthrieandElton laugh, and Guthrie stroked her hand as she caught her breath in the downtime.

“What kind of snake?” Guthrie asked at the same time Elton said, “She didnot!”

“Oh, she did,” Olivia breathed, eyes closed. “He was a really sweet corn snake she named Buttons. She set him free but ended up with another kind of snake, rescued, who was so stupid she had to make sure he ate his field mice right or he’d choke on them and die.”

“I am boggled,” Guthrie muttered. “Tell me more about the magic snake woman who’s friends with your father.”

“And is sister to Yoshi’s mysterious boyfriend,” Elton added. “He’s super shy—I’ve only barely met him, but he’s got a soft spot for Christiana.”

“Everybody does,” Olivia murmured. “Just as well the baby came today when she couldn’t be here, or the little squid would pop out and love her best.”

Elton grunted as though struck, and Guthrie squeezed her hand. “Aw, princess, you know that’s not gonna happen. I mean, no denying she’ll be the favorite aunt, which is not knocking Maureen, but you’ll be the mommy. Lookit you, being all braveand entertaining us and shit. It’ll be okay, Livvy. You don’t gotta be your sister to be the favorite.”

“Sure,” she muttered, and her hand tightened over his knuckles, and he had to work with her to keep her breathing even as the next contraction hit.

He wanted a chance to talk to Elton, though, to be in the same room as Olivia, to tell her, convince her that she didn’t have to be her sister to be the prettiest. She was perfect all on her own.

“YOUR FATHER’Sa fool,” Tad murmured, setting aside his food and reaching to tug Guthrie next to him on the hotel bed. “You’re a better son than he ever deserved. And I’m so mad at him. I had my mom, and I would have given anything—anything—to have one more day with her. And your dad got all this time with you and he wasted it being a shitty father. Don’t worry about not being good enough for him. You’re perfect.”

OLIVIA’S FATHERhad probably told her these things, Guthrie thought, but sometimes, you needed to hear them again and again.

Guthrie and EltontoldOlivia again and again over the next few hours. Unlike the scatterbrained assholes on television, Elton was a fully functioning emotional human being. He’d read up on labor, knew what Olivia specifically needed, and did his best to anticipate those needs. But it was Elton’s job to communicate with the hospital staff and keep his wife focused on the things she was supposed to do—they were partners in parenthood after all.

He said things like, “Livvy, you gotta stay in the present. You do this all the time when you’re taking a dump. Know where the baby is in the pipes and breathe around it. You’ll be fine.”

Guthrie had no such responsibilities. He’d been drafted at the last possible moment for emotional support. He figured it was his job to agree with absolutely everything Olivia said without question and make wildly improbable promises that he could not possibly carry through.

“You’re right, Livvy, this is bullshit. Aaron will arrest all the fuckers responsible, no question. Now breathe. Elton loves you, and that’s what he said. Yeah, I know he did this to you, but that was an act of love, darlin’. Look at the man—he’s got your ice chips, he’s got your other hand, now follow his directions, and I’ll put a pin in that arrest-the-fuckers thing, okay?”

Then the contraction would pass and she’d be left shaking and rational—thank God—and do her best to relax into the next contraction.

It was rough going. Guthrie and Elton held her elbows and walked her around the hospital room for a bit after she was admitted, and then “the big one” hit and she was in bed, lying on her side, with Guthrie rubbing the small of her back and Elton holding her hand. Finally, one more person stuck their hand up her hoochie (Guthrie could not evenbelievehow many people had done that. If men got fingers stuck up their asses in the name of medicine as often as women got hands shoved up their cooters, proctologists would be on the accepted kill lists, and the yearly checkup would be a blood sport) and proclaimed her ready for the delivery room. He and Elton were rushed into caps and gowns and booties. Guthrie felt pretty superfluous after that. Sure, he cheerfully lied a lot—her fuckers list gotreallylong by the end of the whole thing. But really, it was all down to Livvy.

And toward the end, in spite of multiple promises not to look because he wasn’t that interested in hoochies anyway, he still watched as the tiny miracle was produced from his friend’s body.

Red, wrinkled, and squalling was Guthrie’s only real impression, and then Olivia was his focus again. He brushed the hair from her face and held her hand while Elton went to check on the baby.

“What is it?” she hiccupped. “Boy or girl? For the present, I mean. I understand you can be wrong about these things for years.”

Guthrie laughed softly. “How very progressive of you,” he teased. “Elton, end the suspense, would ya?”

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