Page 89 of After Care

19

Oh, baby

Masie graduated from high school. Caleb played minor league baseball. And life went on. Months passed without contact from Tommy.

Summer came, as did Collision’s concert to Chicago. It was mid-July, and Masie would be leaving soon for college. West sent two tickets for Masie and me, but I told her to take Daphne instead. I couldn’t stand the idea of going and knowing Tommy was there somewhere but not wanting to see me.

I called Ivy on the night of the concert instead.

“How are you doing, mama?” I teased.

“I’m as big as a house. I can’t see my feet, and I’m exhausted.”

I giggled at her misfortune. The joys of pregnancy seemed a lifetime ago. We chatted about the therapy school, the final touches of construction to be completed any day. A grand opening was scheduled for the same weekend Masie moved to Santa Clara in a few weeks. Ivy intentionally scheduled it so I could attend.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said, thoughts of seeing Tommy making my stomach churn.

“I want you here, Edie. It’s important to me.”

We continued to talk about some sponsors Edie received, one being the infamous Nights, whose concert I missed months ago to visit Tommy. Then Ivy groaned.

“Ivy, you okay?”

“Jesus,” she moaned. “I don’t know where that came from.” She giggled uncertainly.

“Everything okay, honey?”

“Yeah, just a back spasm or something. This baby is laying on my spine. Gage swears it’s a boy trying to spoon me. He’s jealous already of our unborn son, because he knows a little boy will be the love of my life.” She giggled, masking a longing I hadn’t heard before in her voice. Another soft groan filled the phone.

“Ivy?”

“It’s nothing,” she grunted, attempting to speak again. “So, anyway, I had a generous donation from the Nights, and an anonymous one from someone affiliated with them as they...shhhiiit…” Ivy hissed.

“Ivy, are you having contractions?”

“I don’t think so. It’s a little too early. I’m not due for a few more weeks. Gage promised me he’d be home for the baby.”

Sarcasm erupted within me, but I kept it to myself. Gage might be almighty, in his opinion, but he wasn’t a god when it came to due dates. Ivy hoped to make it through the grand opening before giving birth, however, the timing could never be planned perfectly, and the stress of her therapy school, along with the absence of Gage, could induce labor early.

She moaned again followed by an elongated, “Fuck.”

“Ivy, you’re freaking me out.” I nervously chuckled.

“I’m freaking out, too. I think my water just broke,” she said, hysteria filling her voice before she burst into tears with a steady chant of no, no, no, no, no.

“Is anyone there to help you? I thought Gage hired a sitter-slash-housekeeper to be with you?”

“He did. I fired her. She was too pretty.” I laughed outright. Ivy wasn’t that shallow, and never acted insecure, but now wasn’t the time to argue about the dismissal of assistance because of her appearance.

“You need to call 911 and then call Gage.”

“I’ll never get a hold of him,” Ivy moaned through the phone. “He’s on stage.” Glancing at the clock on my nightstand, Ivy was correct. The concert in Chicago had started twenty minutes ago.

“Try his assistant?” I offered, not even knowing if he had a personal assistant.

“That would be Tommy. He’ll be too engaged.”

“Well, un-engage him. Send a 911 text or something.”