Neighbors (19 page)

He nod
s. “I am, Mel. I’m on the right track now.”

I
entertain the thought for a moment. It is possible… “I’ll give it some thought. No promises though.”

“That’s
all I can ask.” The corners of his mouth tug upward. “Thanks, Mel.”

He turns and walks
back toward the hospital. I’m frozen, waiting for him to come back and shout “April Fool’s,” but he disappears beyond the automatic doors.

When I
arrive home, there’s a note on the kitchen table. “Won’t be home for dinner. Had a meeting. –D”

A meeting? What kind of meeting? The lack of daylight hours and the rainy mo
nth of April shorten his workdays. And is his cell phone broken? He couldn’t call me to tell me that?

Dylan
is usually always home before I am these days, so the house is empty when I get there. I take a shower, put on my fluffy bathrobe and sit in front of the living room television, eating a whole container of double fudge ice cream mixed with tears.

Dylan
doesn’t walk in until ten o’clock. Not once before his key jingles in the lock did he attempt to contact me. Flashes of my life with Greg appear in my head. How many nights did I sit at home alone without the faintest clue as to where he was? Like an idiot I believed his excuses that he was called to the hospital on an emergency or out with his colleagues, when in fact, he was sleeping with everything with boobs. I don’t take my eyes off the television. I can’t look at Dylan; it will only make me cry again.

“Sorry, I’m so late. Meeting ran lon
ger than I expected.” He starts to undress as he walks up the stairs. The bathroom door closes and I hear the water from the shower. I climb the stairs. His clothes are piled on the bed. I lift them to move them into the laundry basket. A sweet fragrance catches my attention. Lifting his shirt to my nose, the smell is strong. It reeks of perfume.
That bastard
.
I had a feeling this might happen. Here I go again.

I si
t on the bed and the tears stream down in rapid succession. Before I know it, my body is heaving. I throw his clothes down on the floor and get into bed. When I hear the water stop, I close my eyes and pretend to be asleep.

First Greg. N
ow Dylan. I can’t go through this again, not with a baby on the way.

The next morning,
I dress quickly and leave without saying a word to Dylan. I lose myself in the patients the whole day and go to the mall after my shift to buy myself some clothes that will fit. When I come home there’s another note. “Another meeting. Sorry. –D”

I call
Tracy and cry into the phone.

“Maybe he really has meetings, Mel.”

“Tracy, there shouldn’t be any secrets. We’re married now. I’m carrying his baby. His clothes shouldn’t smell like perfume. I can’t do this again. I’m not going to re-live the hell I had with Greg. Where am I going to go? Joey’s rented out the house, and I can’t live with my parents. I’ll have to start looking for a place to live.”

“Don’t over react, okay, Mel. I’m sure there’s a simple explanation.”

I hang up hoping Tracy is right. Emotionally exhausted, I cry myself to sleep before Dylan comes home.

The next day, I
go through the same motions as the day before. I wake up, get dressed, and go to work. When I come home, I expect another note, but Dylan is home.
Two can play this game
.

I
climb upstairs and change out of my uniform. Then I walk into the kitchen, take my prenatal vitamin and clutch my purse.

“Where are you going?”
Dylan asks.

“I’ve got a meeting,” I say and walk
out the door.

I have no idea where I am going, but I ca
n’t stay in the house. So I head for the diner and treat myself to a cheeseburger deluxe with French fries and a milk shake. And I eat every crumb.  I take my time and even top it off with a piece of chocolate cake for dessert. It starts to snow when I’m leaving. It’s only the third snowfall the whole winter and it’s odd that it’s April.

I wait
for the heater in my car to make a difference in the temperature. Warm tears sting my cheeks.
I just can’t get another divorce. This time I have a baby to raise. How am I going to do this by myself?

My belly tightens
and a sharp pain travels from my front to my back. All of my muscles stiffen. I struggle for air in between sobs. Another sharp pain rips through me. I rifle through my purse for my cell phone and dial 9-1-1.

The night nurse that
usually takes over my shift runs outside to greet me as the paramedics wheel me into my own ER. “What happened?” she asks. I fight for breath to tell her. “Never mind. Don’t talk. I’ll page Dr. Mankoff.”

A fetal monitor is hooked up to my belly. It’s only after I hear
the swishing sound and the baby’s heartbeat that I start to relax. Dr. Mankoff yanks my curtain back. “Tell me what’s going on, Melissa.”

I relay everything that has
happened over the past week.

“You’re under too much stress. The baby is telli
ng you to slow down.” She reads the printouts from all of the different machines I’m hooked up to. “I think we can send you home, but no more stress.” I nod. “I’ll go get the discharge papers.”

I lean
my head back onto the pillow and close my eyes as I listen to the baby’s heartbeat.

Heavy footsteps clomp
down the hallway toward me. Within seconds Dylan is by my side. “Melissa, are you all right?” Panic fills his face as he sees all of the different tubes and machines that are attached to me. He reaches out to touch my hair, but I lean away. By the look on his face, he’s confused.

“I’m fine,
Dylan.”

“The baby?”

“Fine.”

“What happened?”

“I had some contractions, but it’s okay now.”

“But you’re only seven and a half months pregnant. The baby isn’t ready.”

“Dr. Mankoff said I have too much stress.”

“T
hen you’ll stop working.” He’s serious.

“No, it isn’t from working.”

“Then what is it from?”

I g
ive him a serious stare. “It’s from the secrets you’ve been keeping from me.”

“Secrets? What secrets?”

“Your meetings and mystery callers. And perfume scented clothing.”

“Melissa, I’ve been meeting with my father to discuss the move into his business.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why’d you keep it from me?”

“I thought you’d think I was copping out
, especially after how I behaved in the car on the way home the night he made the offer. I wanted to find out exactly what was involved before I made a decision. I’ve been meeting with my Dad to talk about what his plan is. I want to make a good life for you and our baby. I didn’t want you to worry.” He reaches out to stroke my hair. I don’t pull away this time.

“And the perfume?”

“What perfume?”

“The perfume that your shirt is saturated with. The shirt from the other night.”

“I bought you a bottle of your favorite fragrance, for when the baby is born. I wanted to surprise you when you came home. Tracy told me what to buy. The saleswoman squirted some in the air. I guess it got on me.”

I study his face. His eyes a
re focused on me. My shoulders drop. I feel stupid for doubting him. “I’m sorry. I thought…Never mind what I thought. No secrets, okay?”

“Okay.”
Dylan lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it. “Can I take you home now?”

“Yes, you can,” Dr. Mankoff says as she walks into the room
.

Dylan
gathers my things and makes sure I don’t do anything for myself over the next several days. He even calls in sick for me. Gladys already knows the reason why.

Sitting on the couch,
covered with a blanket, a bottle of water in one hand, a cup of carrot sticks in the other, and the remote on the coffee table, Dylan eases onto the edge next to me. “I’ve got to go frame the house on Walker Street. Will you be okay here by yourself?”

“Of course.” I smile
. “But I’ll miss you.”

He
offers a relaxed smile and pats my hair. “I’ll miss you, too.” He presses his lips to mine and kisses me as if it would be years before we saw each other again. “I’ll try to wrap it up quickly.”

I smile.

“Go easy on The Price Is Right today, okay?” he jokes before walking out the door.

Fifteen minutes later, there’
s a knock on the door. It takes a few moments to get up out of the couch. “Hold on,” I shout. “What’d you forget?” I say, opening the door. But on the other side, Maria is posing in her newest designer ensemble. “Oh, hello Maria. Won’t you come in?” I stand aside to let her enter.

She
side-strides past my awkward belly, as if she’s considering purchasing a new property, looking around the living room with disapproving eyes. “Once this kid is born you should really redecorate. This so lacks taste.”

“Can I offer you a drink or something, Maria?”

“No, I’m not staying long. I just wanted to inform you that you should enjoy playing house while you can.”

“What are you talking about, Maria?”

“Come on, Melissa. You can’t think that Dylan is happy. Don’t you see how he looks at me? He stares at my perfect body and my flawless face. I know he wants me, always has. It was just that I married his father. He’s been holding back for quite some time, you know. You are just a distraction until I’m ready for him; until I’m free from Stuart.” She’s confident in what she’s saying. She studies her fanned out manicured hand. “Stuart is grooming him and he’ll take over the business. Then I’ll dump Stuart and Dylan and I will be together. Once you have that kid, your body won’t be as…attractive. Dylan will welcome someone with a slim, more accommodating body. Someone who can give him the attention he needs; someone who won’t be distracted by bottles and diapers. Someone who won’t smell like baby formula. Someone who won’t be too tired to give him what he needs.”

“I give him what he needs. You stay away from him, Maria. Keep your own husband happy.”

“Oh, I do, Honey, I do. But why stay with the old horse destined for the glue factory when there’s a new stallion bucking in the barn? He’ll be running to me to take care of him, you just watch and see. I just thought I’d let you know that you should start making arrangements for being a single parent.”

“I think
you should go now, Maria.” I hold the door open and wait until she walks out. When her car pulls away, I sit on the couch and cry. The baby moves…a lot. I rub my belly. “I know, baby. I’m calm. No one will take your daddy away from us.” I think of how much she’s like Greg.
Perhaps I should introduce them to one another. Then they can make each other miserable
.

I must have fallen asleep on the couch.
When Dylan wakes me with a kiss, the sky is turning dark. “I’d carry you upstairs, but I’m not sure how to lift you.”

“No, no. That’s oka
y. I’ll walk.” I take a few moments to collect myself before hobbling up the stairs. Dylan has his arm around my waist and helps me to the bed.

“I guess sex i
s out of the question,” he jokes, but I can’t be sure if he’s serious.

“No, we can if you w
ant.” I don’t want him to look for it elsewhere as Maria seemed so sure he will.

“I was joking, Melissa. Go to sleep. I’m g
oing to take a shower. He helps me into the bed and pulls the covers around me. Then he turns out the light and heads into the bathroom. Suddenly, I’m not tired any more. I can only think about how my husband will find satisfaction. Flashes of Maria keep me from falling asleep.

Thirty

Eight more
long weeks pass. I never mention Maria’s visit to Dylan, but it never leaves my mind. When Dylan goes to meet with his dad, I call Stuart’s cell phone to tell him he’s coming, just to make sure they have a meeting scheduled. I use the excuse that I’m being cautious because the baby needs a daddy. Stuart gets a kick out of it.

At work, Gladys and Eileen make sure I’m
not stressed. Whenever there’s a cardiology case in the ER, they send me to the cafeteria, whether they expect Greg or not. My stomach grows rapidly each day. Mid-June marks the end of my pregnancy and the Saturday before Flag Day is my last day before maternity leave. I can’t believe it was a year ago that I first met Dylan. It seems like an eternity. So much has happened in the short span of a year. Back then I never would have imagined myself re-married and about to give birth.

The ER staff has
a betting pool on the length, weight, and sex of the baby. They have a separate bet on whether I’ll deliver on my due date or not. Dylan even participates in both.

Gladys
regularly gives up her chair for me because her Rubenesque body is slimmer than mine.

Another hour and
my shift will end. I’ll officially be on maternity leave. Eileen appears in front of me. “I need your help before you leave.”

“Sure. With what?”

“Someone tipped the med cart over. I picked everything up and discarded it, but I need help refilling the supplies before shift change. I maneuver myself out of Gladys’s chair, belly first and shuffle after her on my swollen legs to the Med Room. She walks too fast for me to keep up.

“
Hey wait up, Eileen?”

She
stops in front of the med room door, turns and brushes her magenta colored bangs out of her face. Then she hugs me. “I’m going to miss ya, Mel.”

My belly i
s too big for me to put my arms around her, too. “I’ll be back after maternity leave,” I say. “It helps when you have a mom that is all too willing to babysit. And Gretta said she’d take a day every now and then, too.”

“I know, but still…”

She ends our hug and I follow her into the med room. “Surprise!” the staff yells. Instead of the medications that were supposed to be on the cart, there’s a small cake with a plastic stork holding a baby in its mouth. A stroller donned with a big yellow ribbon is next to the cart.

“Guys, you
didn’t have to do this.” Happy tears form in my eyes. Gladys cuts the cake and hands everyone a piece as I thank everyone individually.

“You didn’t think we were going to let you have a baby without
spoiling it from the beginning, right?” Eileen laughs.

“Thanks, guys.”

Our celebration is interrupted by shouts from the nurse’s station. Paramedics are rushing a gurney through the automatic doors of the ER. “Got one in cardiac arrest,” one EMT shouts.

“G
ot it,” Gladys says, knowing I can’t move too quickly. She looks at the patient and then at me. Then she calls to Eileen, “Get her back into the lounge.”

Eileen looks
at Gladys, then the patient, then me. She pushes me back into the staff lounge. “Stay here,” she commands.

“What? Why?”

The stat call comes over the intercom. I know I’d be more helpful if I were outside. I walk out of the staff room, to the patient. I freeze. It’s Dylan. He’s unconscious on the gurney. An EMT is administering CPR. My whole body stiffens.

“I
told you to get her out of here!” Gladys screams.

“I did. She came out,” Ei
leen shouts back.

My mouth moves
but no words come out. Greg pushes his way through the crowd. He stops and stares at me. I return the gaze. Then he starts forward. I grab his arm and find my voice. “Please, save him, Greg. He’s everything to me.”

Greg
smiles. Eileen pulls me back to the staff lounge. I can’t sit. I pace in the doorway trying to see what’s happening, trying to imagine all of the procedures as I had assisted in the past, but there’s too much activity blocking my view. I’m afraid to leave the lounge a second time in case Eileen is around to push me back in.

An hour
goes by. I’m sitting on the couch at Gladys’s insistence, with a cup of orange juice. Greg saunters into the lounge. His face is serious. I recognize it as the expression he gives to families when he’s delivering somber news to them.

I
struggle to get up from the couch. “Greg, please tell me he’s okay.”

“Sit down, Mel.”
I slide back into the couch.

“Greg! Tell me!”

In an uncharacteristic gesture, Greg strokes my arm and then grabs both of my hands. Any other time, I’d have backed off, but today my husband—the man I love, the father of my unborn baby—is dependent upon Greg’s skill.

Greg
takes a moment to make sure he has my attention. “He fell off a roof and had a stroke. I’m not sure which happened first, but he’s fine now. I want to keep him over night to monitor him.”

I fa
ll back into the cheap leather couch. “A stroke?”

“Does
he have any history?” he asks.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

Eileen pushes her way into the room and stands behind Gladys.

“When can I see him?”

“They’re moving him to ICU,” Gladys says. “I’ll get John to take you up after Dylan’s settled in.”

I nod and then stand so that I can
locate John, the orderly. I want to be there the minute Dylan is in the room. Without warning, a sharp pain stabs at my middle. I double over, grabbing my side. “Oh!”

Eil
een, Gladys and Greg all lunge for me.

“What is it?” Gladys asks
.

“
Nothing. I’m fine. I got up too fast.” I inhale and exhale a few short breaths, and straighten my posture. Before I can take a step I am hit with another stabbing pain. I double over again. “Oh!”

“Sit down,” Eileen
directs. And I listen. Another pain shoots through me and I wince.

“C
all Dr. Mankoff,” Gladys barks at Eileen and she’s gone. Short waves of pain roll over me. “Breathe,” Gladys says, but I can’t concentrate.

I struggle
to stand. “I have to get to Dylan.”

Another stab. I sit back down. My breathing turns
into panting.

“You’re not
going anywhere,” Gladys commands.

Eileen returns
. “Dr. Mankoff is on her way down.”

Another pain
fires through me. “Ohhhhh!”

Gladys looks
over her bifocals. “Breathe, Melissa. Like this, hehehehe.” She holds my wrist in her hand to take my pulse.

I try
, but another ebb of pain prevents me from getting past the second ‘he.’

“Liste
n to my voice, hon,” Gladys says. “Dylan is in very good hands right now. You know he has the best staff around him. They’re taking him to his room now. He’s out of danger. You can see him in a little while.”

Desperately, I struggle
to listen to her voice, but all I can concentrate on is the pain.

Dr. Mankoff appears
in the doorway. “What’s happening?”

Gladys turns
toward her. “She’s in labor.”

“Did her wat
er break yet?” Dr. Mankoff asks.

“No, not yet,” Greg says
.

More pain. “Owwwww!” I bend
over and lean into my knees.

“Bre
athe, Melissa,” Dr. Mankoff says as she places her stethoscope on my back. “Okay, let’s get a gurney and get her up to labor and delivery.”

“No, I need to see
Dylan first.”

“This baby isn’
t waiting, Melissa,” Gladys says. She grabs one of my arms. Eileen grabs the other. Together they lift me up out of the couch. When I stand, a loud crashing sound fills the room. A huge puddle of water hits the floor and my shoes are soaked.

“Her water broke,” Greg says
.

I can barely take the few steps to the door, where John has a gurney, which they usher
me onto. John wheels me toward the elevator. I have another contraction. My body curls as much as it can and I hold back a scream through clenched teeth.

“Breath
e, Melissa,” the doctor reminds me.

“I have to push. I need to get it out.”

“No. Not yet. I have to examine you first. You may not be dilated enough.”

“Ooooo
oooh!” It hurts.
What’s taking that damn elevator so long?
Finally, it arrives and I’m wheeled in. The button is pressed for the labor and delivery floor.

“Owwwww!”
Another contraction. When it subsides, I notice Greg is in the elevator with me. “Why are you here?”

“Someone has to stay with you.”

“No, go save Dylan.”

“
Dylan is fine. We put him on a monitor and now we have to wait.”

Another contraction. “Ooooooo
h!” I breathe the way I was taught in Lamaze class.

The elevator doors open and I’m
wheeled directly into a labor room. Dr. Mankoff scrubs up at the sink in the corner and a nurse helps her into latex gloves. Another nurse removes my clothing and helps me into a hospital gown. She covers my lower half with a sheet then guides my feet into the stirrups, all while I’m battling the contractions.

“Okay, I’m going to examine you, Melissa, okay?
It’s not going to be comfortable.”

“Hurry. I want to push.”

“No! Not until I tell you.”

Another contraction
is cresting. I clutch Greg’s hand. He uses his silk tie to wipe my forehead.

Dr. Mankoff looks
up at me. “You’re only eight centimeters. We have to wait.”

“I can’t wait. It hurts.” Another contraction
comes as soon as I say it. “Drugs. I need drugs.”

“There’s no
time, Melissa,” Dr. Mankoff says. “You’re too far dilated and you’re contractions are too close together. You’re in active labor. It won’t be long now.”

Greg
gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay. You can do this, Mel. Just breathe.” His mouth forms an ‘o’ and he sucks in a breath as if he’s inhaling through a straw. He wants me to imitate him. I do. Then force the air out in a slow, controlled exhale.

I grip
his hand until the pain subsides, but it’s short lived, because I have another contraction almost as quickly as the last one ends. Sweat trickles down the side of my face.

Dr. Mankoff examines
me again. “You’re at nine. One more centimeter to go. Don’t push yet.”

Greg keeps looking at me and breathes. I follow his lead. When he sees I’m
keeping up, he strokes my hair. “You’re doing great, Mel. Keep breathing. It’ll be over soon. And you’ll have a beautiful little baby.”

“Owwwwww!” This i
s the worst one yet. “I have to…”

Dr. Mankoff looks
again. “Okay, you’re ten centimeters dilated. You can push with the next contraction, okay?”

I nod. It i
sn’t long before another wave of pain comes.

“Okay, push, Melissa.” And I do
with all of my might. “Hold.”

I
hold as long as I can, but I get tired and I have to stop pushing. I fall back into the bed. There’s just enough time to take a breath. And then another pain strikes.

“Push,” Dr. Mankoff orders
.

I push, then rest, but not
for more than a few moments. I’m so tired, but the pain is fierce. Greg maneuvers himself behind me and helps me push my body forward on Dr. Mankoff’s cue.

“One more, Melissa. I see the head.”

“I’m so tired.”

“You can do it.”

“Come on, Melissa. You want to see your baby, don’ t you?” Greg asks.

“Yes.”

“Then push.”

With
the next contraction, I push hard, clenching my teeth. The pressure is intense as I feel the baby push through.

“Keep pus
hing, Melissa,” Dr. Mankoff instructs. “You need to get the rest of the baby out.”

I push
again and the baby releases from my body. The pressure and the pain are gone.

“It’s a girl!” Dr. Mankoff announces
, holding her up for me to see. Tears stream from my face as she hands my daughter to me. Dr. Mankoff cuts the umbilical cord. Even though she’s covered in blood and amniotic fluid, she’s the most beautiful baby I have ever seen. Her small mouth is shaped like Dylan’s and her little nose looks like my mother’s.