That Baby (47 page)

I'm never one to back down from a challenge or a dare. I never quit when I'm behind in a game.
 

I never give up.

But I know better than to play a game I’ll never win.
 

I’m almost to the hospital when my phone buzzes again. I glance down and see Coach’s name.
 

“Danny, where are you?”
 

“I’m headed to the hospital. My friend, Jadyn, was in an accident.”

“That’s why I was calling you. Marcus told me about the accident, and I drove by the scene on my way home. Um, have you gotten an update on her, uh, condition?”

“No, I’m almost at the hospital. I don’t know much yet.”

“Do you know for sure they were taking her to the hospital?”

His tone is off. Coach is always so direct. “What aren’t you saying?”

He sighs. “There was a coroner’s van there.”

My heart sinks into my stomach.
 

“But, but . . . they told me they were taking her to the hospital.”

“I’m saying a prayer she made it, son. Text me and let me know if things are okay.”

I don’t reply as the phone slides out of my hand.

I get to the hospital, find somewhere to park, and stagger into the emergency room.

A nurse recognizes me right away.
 

“You’re Danny Diamond, aren’t you?” She says it in that flustered-tone older women get when they meet me. Jay says it’s because they've been picturing me naked. She always knows how to make me laugh. How to make me forget I'm nervous.
 

“My friend, Jadyn Reynolds—er, Mackenzie—was in an car accident. She’s pregnant. I’m looking for her husband.”

She looks motherly and less flustered when she hears Jadyn’s name. She takes my hand in hers and pats it.
 

“I’m sorry,” she says as she leads me down the hall.
 

I see Phillip.
 

He’s wearing scrubs and sitting on a folding chair outside of an operating room.

All by himself.
 

His head is down and he’s sobbing uncontrollably.
 

I rush over, sliding onto my knees in front of him.
 

He looks at me through tear-drowned eyes, raises his chin, and almost imperceptibly shakes his head.
 

Just shakes his head.

Like he used to do on the football field.

Like he did that night at the party.

And I know my best friend is dead.
 

Jadyn is dead.

And I'll never be the same.
 

We’re both crying like girls.
 

Sobbing.
 

Phillip is hysterical. “How am I going to make it without her?” he cries.

He keeps asking me over and over.

“How am I going to make it without her?”
 

I don’t have an answer.
 

The hole in my own heart feels big enough to kill me.

Please, God, give him back his Princess.
 

Give me back my best friend.

My partner in crime.
 

Because I don’t know what I’m going to do without her either.

“I’m here for you,” I say, putting my arm around his shoulder.
 

It sounds lame, but it's all I've got.

Jadyn

I float up to the bright lights in the surgery room and see a man walking toward me.

A man I recognize even before I can clearly make out his features.

“Dad!” I say, running to him and hugging him tightly.

He doesn’t say anything, just takes my hand and points at what’s going on below us.

Phillip is standing beside me, holding my hand.
 

They’ve cut my abdomen open and are pulling the baby out.

The baby looks bluish and doesn’t make a sound. They quickly whisk it out of the room.

I turn to my dad and cry out. “Are they going to be able to save the baby? Is that why we’re watching? Where did they take the baby? How does this all work?”

My dad kisses me on the cheek but doesn’t answer my questions.

“Why isn't Mom here?” I ask, but he just nods again toward what’s going on below.

The surgeon says the abruption was worse than they thought.

Someone else says that I’ve lost too much blood.
 

Someone announces that I’ve coded.
 

A nurse grabs Phillip and tries to drag him away from me, but he resists.
 

“Code Blue?” he asks, panic spreading across his face.
 

“Get him out of here!” someone yells.

“NO!” he screams. “I’m not going anywhere! Someone needs to tell me what’s happening!”

“Sir, you need to leave.” He grabs Phillip by the shoulder and tries to force him away from me. There are tears in Phillip’s eyes but he looks pissed. Like he’s going to punch the guy. “We need you to leave now.”

Phillip is holding my hand and won’t let go. I turn my palm over and study it. Even though it’s empty, I can somehow still feel Phillip’s firm grip.

“I’m not leaving,” Phillip says, standing up straighter, showing the man six-foot-three-inches of muscle.
 

Phillip doesn’t want to leave me.
 

I don’t want him to leave either.
 

I don’t want him to let go of my hand.

But I know he has to. He doesn’t need to see this.
 

I don’t want him to watch me die.

Two people grab ahold of him, but he still manages to bend down next to me. I can tell that he’s yelling at me, but his voice sounds really far away.
 

Like a whisper.

I can hear his voice, but it sounds almost like an echo. Like he's really far away even though he’s standing right next to me.

“Stay with me, Princess. I need you. Don’t you leave me. Don’t you dare leave me. I need you.”

“I said get him out of here!” the doctor’s voice booms, but I feel it more in my chest than I hear it with my ears.

Phillip is being forcefully removed from the room, but his hand is still outstretched toward mine, not wanting to let go.
 

It reminds me of when my dad pulled me out of the tree when we were little. How Phillip’s hand was still stretched out, trying to hold on to me.

Tears start streaming down my face.
 

But as I touch my cheek to brush them away, I can’t feel them.

“You’ll always be my Angel,” dad says to me, snapping his finger and causing Jesus to appear.
 

“Does Jesus greet everyone?” I whisper to my dad.
 

“I don’t know,” Dad says. “This is your deal.”

“Why isn’t he talking?”

Dad shrugs.
 

“Ohmigawd—I mean, gosh—he knows, doesn’t he?”

“Knows what?”

“I wasn’t always an angel, Dad.”

I start telling Dad all the bad things I did. “I lusted after my neighbor’s father. I stole your car when I was fourteen and drove it with my friend.”

“Danny?” Dad asks.

I nod. So does Jesus. He doesn’t seem surprised.

So I keep going.
 

“We did stuff to our neighbor’s house one Halloween, but it was all in good fun. Really, everything I’ve done that was bad was mostly in good fun. I may have been a glutton for alcohol and possibly Mrs. Mac’s food. I was disrespectful to her today, and she’s my elder. And, oh gosh, I had sex in the church parking lot, not to mention sex before marriage. I may have made an effigy of a pastor and burned it in my mind, but I would never do that or make hotdogs that looked like him in real life. I’ve lied sometimes, but mostly white lies. I cussed in church, but not out loud. I did drugs”—I speak to Jesus directly —“but only the natural kind that
your
father made.”

I study Jesus more closely.
 

“You know, you look exactly like the picture that hangs in the Sunday school room at my church.” I take in his long hair, robe, and the crown of flowers on his head. “Jesus, are you a hippie?” I ask.

Jesus smiles and flashes me a peace sign.
 

“Why isn't my Mom here? And where is my baby?”

Jesus pulls a wand out from under the sleeve of his robe and says a spell, causing my mother to appear.

“Wait, are you a wizard? Did you go to Hogwarts, like ever?”

Jesus and my dad disappear as my mom sits down next to me on a white, slipcovered couch. I realize everything around us has changed. The room we are in now looks like my mom decorated it.
 

“Is this heaven or, like, the waiting room?”

“Jadyn,” Mom says, touching my arm. “There’s something you need to see.” She picks up a remote from a coffee table made from a polished tree log and hits a button, causing a picture to appear on the wall.
 

“Is that how you keep up with your loved ones on Earth? Did you know I was pregnant? Did you get to watch my wedding? Will I get to see Phillip that way? You know when you died, I was on my way to the hospital and I swear that I felt you holding my shoulder. Was that you?”

“Watch,” she says.

On the screen is what appears to be a video of Phillip and me in the police car on the way to the hospital. Only, somehow, I hear my own thoughts.
 

Please let them be okay. Whooh, whooh, whooh. Please let them be okay. Whooh, whooh, whooh. Please let them be okay.

Maybe this whole fucked up night is just some bad, horrible, messed up dream.
 

I look around to see if Jesus heard me swearing. Thankfully, he is gone.
 

I watch myself slowly open my eyes. I remember hoping it was a dream. But instead I see Phillip looking scared.
 

So it’s not a dream.
 

Okay. I need to mentally prepare myself. Be rational. Whatever this is, I can handle it. Obviously, they are hurt badly if they are being airlifted. But lots of people get better after bad car wrecks. You see it on television all the time.
 
Broken bones heal; scars can be fixed.
 

They are going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine.

We’re almost to the hospital. I can see it up ahead. I feel a hand on my shoulder, so I lean my head toward it and touch my cheek to it. I take a long, slow breath and feel myself relax. I feel comforted.
 

Only this version is different. I can actually see the faint image of my mother standing next to me, holding my shoulder. “It was you,” I say.

“Of course. Always trust your heart, Jadyn. There are some other things you need to see.”

She changes the channel and up on the screen is my father, sitting in a rocking chair. He’s surrounded by clouds, but in what appears to be the nursery I designed.
 

She zooms in closer and I see what he’s holding.

A baby.
 

My baby.

I freak out.
 

“No!” I cry out. “I told them to save the baby! Where is the baby? Why can’t I see it!? Hold it? Oh, god. What’s Phillip going to do without us?”
 

My mom flips the channel again.
 

Now I see Phillip. He’s sitting in an empty hallway at the hospital, scrubs on. His head is down and he’s sobbing.

Which makes me cry harder even though I can’t feel the tears.

I move toward the screen, putting my hand on top of his shoulder. He reaches up and puts his hand on top of mine.
 

And I feel it.

“Can he feel that too? Does he know it’s me?” I ask Mom.

“When the love is strong, yes,” she says.
 

I start sobbing hysterically. “Mom, heaven won’t be heaven without Phillip.”

She flips the channel again, the screen turning completely black.
 

I can’t see anything but I can feel everything.
 

And I mean everything.

Not pain exactly.
 

More like emotions.

So many conflicting emotions, but rising to the top is an overwhelming sadness that our baby didn’t make it. When I signed the directive, somehow, I knew. Knew this was happening. But I hoped our baby would survive and be with Phillip.

In a happy, fairytale world I'd be fine. The baby would be fine. They'd smile, tell us the baby’s sex, and then gently lay it into my arms as Phillip cut the cord.