Page 41 of Your Sharpest Edge
She held up her hand to stop me. “You’ve been busy lately. I get it. I’ve still seen you, and when I do, it feels like no different.”
I swallowed. “I’m going to be a better friend to you. I wasn’t thinking of anyone but myself, and that’s not what friends do.”
She shook her head, giving me a soft smile and a tight squeeze. “He’s thinking of himself.”
That I’d agree with. Just as I was going to try and convince her to run away, a nurse came in.
“Oh good, Mr. Sokolov, you could make it,” the nurse said as she adjusted her glove and walked over to a few machines to check the papers coming out of them.
I looked down at our hands, our fingers curled around each other.
“No. This is my?—”
“Brother.” I finished for her.
A tiny smile crept on her face. “Brother,” she repeated.
It was going to be difficult to explain somehow that I’m her friend without getting a hundred different looks, so I figured it was easier this way.
“Are you ready to have a baby, Anastasia?” the nurse asked. “We need to get you in for your C-section, and the doctor is ready. Will your brother be coming with us?”
She nodded and looked at me, eyes searching. “He’s not coming,” she whispered.
No. He wasn’t. Without a second thought, I looked back at the nurse. “Tell me what I need to do.”
An hour later, we found ourselves in an even more sterile operating room. A sheet covered the lower half of her body.
“I’m so scared,” she whimpered.
I leaned down so only she could hear me. “You’re doing so well, Anastasia.” I reassured her, my voice steady.
I never imagined myself in this position, but I also couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Anastasia was one of the strongest people I’d ever met.
“We’re going to perform a standard C-section,” the doctor instructed while a few nurses moved around us, preparing for the procedure.
“Dad, go ahead and hold onto mom’s hand,” one of the nurses said, putting up a sheet so we couldn’t see what they were doing.
I grabbed Anastasia’s hand, not bothering to correct them.
“Can I get a washcloth?” I asked a nurse nearby.
She quickly brought a warm washcloth, and I gently placed it on Anastasia’s forehead.
“You’re going to be okay,” I whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Focus on your breathing. In and out, nice and slow.”
I had no idea what I was saying, but I had seen a few episodes ofGeneral HospitalandHouseso hopefully I could fill in the gaps of what I was supposed to do.
Her grip on my hand tightened as she trembled. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she said, her voice cracking.
“You can, and you will,” I said firmly. “You’re the strongest person I know. Keep breathing, in and out.”
The room buzzed with activity, the medical team working with calm precision. Beeping monitors filled the air, adding to the tension.
“Almost there,” the doctor announced. “A few more moments.”
Anastasia’s eyes locked onto mine, searching for reassurance. “Stay with me,” she pleaded.
“I’m right here, not going anywhere,” I promised, squeezing her hand.
