Page 43 of Room 1212

“We don’t have an hour,” I said with certainty as I was hit with the mother of all contractions. I bent over double, bracing myself on my knees. A cold sweat was beading on my forehead. Were the contractions supposed to be so close?

Drew quickly hailed a cab, and we climbed in the back. “To the hospital, please,” Drew told the driver, and the man glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening. He nodded quickly, then pulled away from the curb. A block later, he stopped.

“Why are we stopping?” I asked, peeling my eyes open. What I saw was a wall of cars extending in all directions. “What happened? What’s going on?”

Drew opened the door and tried to peer ahead over the cars. “I’m not sure. There are a lot of flashing lights about two blocks up. A car accident maybe.”

Twenty minutes later and we still hadn’t moved. I clutched at my stomach. An awful guttural moan crawled past my lips. I had this heavy feeling low in my gut, and I found myself pushing lightly, anything to ease the pressure building. “Drew,” I panted.

“I know, love. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do. Do you want me to call an ambulance?”

I waved my arms wildly around us. “And how would they get to us?” I wailed. Nausea had me sweating, and I rocked back and forth with the pain. “I feel like I need to push, Drew. What do I do?”

He exchanged a terrified look with the driver. “Well, I guess you take your pants off?” The driver jumped on the radio, calling emergency services, but I knew they wouldn’t get here in time.

“I can’t give birth in a taxi!” I shouted, even as I began to slide my stretchy pants down. “It’s like a scene out of a cheesy rom-com!”

Drew actually chuckled as he helped me maneuver so I was lying down as much as the narrow seat would allow. “I don’t think you get a say in when the baby comes, dear.” His forehead was damp with sweat and his Adam’s apple bobbed with a gulp, and I knew his easygoing banter was all for show. He was just as scared as I was.

“Fuck!” The pain had tears leaking from the corner of my eyes, but I was also laughing at the absurdity of this situation. “I can’t do this.”

“You can,” Drew said firmly. “You can do anything. I believe in you.”

“Please don’t leave me,” I sobbed. “I don’t want to do this without you.”

He gripped my hand tight. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me forever.”

“Promise?”

He nodded, our eyes locking. “I promise.”

The cab driver swiveled around in his seat and opened up a window in the partition so he could get a clear view. “Stay calm, breathe. The ambulance is on its way, but in case they don’t make it, fast births are usually the easy ones.”

I blinked at the man, confused. “What, are you a doctor or something?” Wouldn’t that just be perfect?

He shook his head. “No, but my husband and I have had seven children, the last three at home.”

I nodded. Not a doctor, but good enough under the circumstances. There was no time to be picky. I could feel the baby coming, a heavy pressure bearing down on me, and I clawed at the seat, whimpering.

The driver instructed Drew to take off his jacket and shirt. We would need to use it as a blanket. Drew peeled off his clothes, and not a minute too soon! With a searing heat, bracing my back against the car door, my legs wedged in awkward corners of the seat and ceiling, and an audience outside the window, I brought our son into this world.

My cheeks were wet with tears as I watched Drew swaddle our baby and make sure his mouth was clear. “You did it!” he kept repeating in a daze. “I knew you could do it.” Somewhere in the distance I heard approaching sirens, adding to the chorus of our baby’s reedy cry. Though I wasn’t quite finished with the birth, the hard part was over.

Drew carefully placed our son on my chest, his tiny mouth already searching for food. “What should we name him?” he asked me as I lifted my shirt up and helped my baby latch on.

We had discussed a few names, but it wasn’t until this moment that I knew the perfect name. “How about Kris?” I suggested, my eyelids drooping in exhaustion. “For Kristoff.”

Tears spilled over Drew’s cheeks, his smile beaming. “I love it.” Then he chuckled. “But if we’re going to name our children after the residents, we’d better get started on more babies—alotof them.”

Laughing hurt, so I tried not to join him, but it was hard to resist. I was overflowing with joy. “Maybe we’ll just give each of them a few middle names instead. Kris Roger Davis Webber.”

“Perfect. Just like you.”

24

Drew

Icrossedmyarmsover my chest and tried to look as stern as possible while I stared down the senior. “Lavender,” I said, a note of warning in my voice, but I was struggling to keep my expression sober.

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