Page 72 of Hell In A Handbasket
The love I had for her disintegrates like smoke in the air, because she just doesn’t give a shit.
But she emerges again a moment later with itty bitty little shorts on and Archer’s t-shirt dwarfing her trim frame.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
I love her again!
“Jay?” Minka accepts one shoe from Archer, bending to slide it on and searching sleepily until she finds the Bishop she’s looking for. “Is the bus drivable or not? I forgot where Soph’s bullshit ended and her truth began.”
“You’re still cranky, huh?” The ballerina strolls into the aisle and past us on her way to the front. “Jesus. What does a woman have to do to make friends around here?”
“How far apart are your contractions?” Aubree comes up behind Christabelle and turns her, the way the cops are apt to press a man to the hood of their car and search his pockets. She lays Christabelle’s hands on the bed and drags her fingers along her back. “Estimate for me?”
“Can’t you just read the baby’s mind?” Soph heckles. “Ask it. See what it thinks.”
“Hush now, Sugar Plum.” Jay sweeps his arm around her hip and pulls her down to the chair beside his. “We’ve created a kind of truce with these motherfuckers. But Felix mightn’t be working with his most rational brain right now. Panic can make a man gun happy.”
“I’m not panicked!”I’m so fucking panicked!I stalk to Micah’s cubby and snatch out his pants, the fabric whipping in the air and almost slapping his face on the way past. Since mine are wet, I stab my legs inside and shove past Archer to get back to Christabelle. “What do we do? Darling?” I grab her face and carefully draw her eyes to mine. “What do we do?”
“We definitelydon’tpanic.” She exhales a long, heavy breath that hits my face and blows my hair back, but then she drops her head and whimpers. “Um… I suppose they’re two minutes apart. Considering this one.” She yelps and fists the wet sheets, her knuckles turning white in stark contrast to the slate gray fabric. “And the last one. Oh God.” She groans. “They’re kinda close. This is gonna hurt real bad, huh? It’s gonna be bad.”
“It’s not so bad.” Jess pops up, wild blonde hair and wilder, blue eyes. She grins, the expression taking on a demonic, frenzied edge that makes Christabelle gulp. She pulls an elastic band from around her wrist and finger-combs Christabelle’s hair into a braid to keep the strands off her face. “I had twin girls with giant Bishop shoulders.”
“It wasn’t so bad, right?” I snag Jess’ wrist, squeezing harder than I mean, but fuck, I can’t stop it. “You did it double in one go. It wasn’t so bad?”
“I mean…” She finishes the braid and peels her arm from my grip. “I had them via the sunroof. Oddly, my vaginastillhurt afterwards. It was the craziest thing.”
“Enough of that.” Aubree steers Jess out of the way, then she steps in and glides her knuckles along Christabelle’s spine. “Ignore the craziness and focus on your body. You don’t feel like you have to push yet, do you?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. Not really.”
“How yes is yes?” As the bus engine powers to life and Jay destroys the grill still hanging off the side, the chairs in the way, the tub of trash being rolled over, Minka finishes with her shoes and squeezes between me and my fucking wife. She leans onto the bed and angles her neck to get a look at Christabelle’s face. “Debbie? How yes is yes?”
“Like…” She grunts, long, deep, and bordering on the fucking exorcist. “Mostly yes. But I can still control it.”
“Hold on.” Archer crowds us in, placing one hand on Minka’s shoulder and another on Christabelle’s, steadying them in the same moment Jay drives us off the dirt and onto tar. “We’re only a couple of minutes away.”
“You need to check her dilation.” Aubree makes a whole fucking career of rubbing Christabelle’s back, like a massage will fix this shit. “Mayet,” she tips her chin. “You gotta see what we’re working with.”
“Dilation?” My heart thunders, chaotically sprinting in my chest until my head turns woozy and my vision grows a little dark. “She’s already dilating?”
“That’s what contractions are for,” Minka grumbles, searching the bus for… something. A fucking obstetrics team, maybe.
“Here.” Ellie tiptoes closer, sheepishly blushing, and offers my wallet. “You might need this when we get to the hospital.”
“What?” I’m gonna pass out. I’m going to fucking die of a heart attack. “I don’t?—”
“Here.” Aubree spins and sprints to her cubby, then back again in the time it takes my stomach to flip. Then she slams a bottle of sanitizer into Minka’s palm. “You have to check so we know.”
“Debbie?” Minka squirts clear liquid onto her hands and tosses the bottle. “We’re only a few minutes from the hospital. So either you can wait, or I can look for you.”
“She’s dripping on the floor.” Cato throws his arms in the air, like those dancing balloon men outside car dealerships. “Oh my god, she’s leaking!”
“Christabelle?” Minka grips her face and draws her eyes around. “It’s your body. How close are you?”
“I don’t know.” Big, fat, soul-shattering tears dribble onto her cheeks. “I kinda want to push.”
“Don’t push!” Aubree swings across and seizes my arm, yanking me in and pressing my hands to Christabelle’s back.Massage, motherfucker! Then she comes around to Christabelle’s left. “Under no circumstances should you push until you’re inside the hospital.”
