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In the lobby, I ask the information desk for directions to the birthing center and take the elevator up. The receptionist at the birthing center gives me Erica’s room number, and I make it there in time to see a woman with a thick, black braid remove her gloved fingers from my sister’s vagina.
Lorenzo’s smile is weighted with concern. “Hey, Alexis.”
“Where’s Mom and Dad?” Erica asks, her brow dewed with sweat. I can’t tell if she’s annoyed to see me, or if she’s in pain. Probably a mixture of both.
I have to blink a few times before I can respond. “I think they’re still parking. How are you doing?”
“She and the little one are okay for now,” says the woman with the braid. She introduces herself as Dr. Pari Gupta, discarding the glove and offering her hand to shake. I grasp it and try not to think too hard about where it’s been.
My parents come rushing in soon after. I’m surprised to hear Dr. Gupta address my mother by name. My dad won’t even look at me as he takes a seat by the window.
Mom hurries to Erica’s side, taking her hand. “Hey, honey,” she says. Since when does Erica tolerate my mom calling herhoney? The look that passes between them is laden with a familiarity I’ve never seen from them before. Mom turns to Dr. Gupta. “Where are we?”
“She’s at five centimeters and making progress. Vitals for mother and baby look good. Her contractions are regular, but we are concerned about an early baby.”
Dr. Gupta tells us to sit tight and then leaves to speak with a nurse. Erica groans and then winces, her features twisting in pain as she’s hit with a contraction that has her curling into herself.
“Breathe, darling,” Lorenzo says.
“I am breathing,” she snaps.
“You’re doing great,” my mom says, offering Lorenzo a reassuring smile. “Has anyone called Cynthia?”
“I texted her when I texted all of you,” Lorenzo says. He doesn’t have to tell us that Erica’s mom hasn’t responded. We can read the disappointment on his face.
Erica’s contraction subsides. I wait for her breathing to return to semi-normal before I approach her hospital bed.
“Hey,” I say. “I just want to say I’m sorry for what I said about your mom at the baby shower. It was beyond rude.”
Erica shakes her head, dismissing my remorse. “It’s fine, Alexis. I have more important things to worry about right now.”
“Right, of course.” I claim the empty seat next to my father, who hasn’t said a word since my parents arrived. I can tell his anger is still simmering below the surface. I was afraid he was going to have a stroke right there in the antique store.
“Dad,” I say quietly. “Can you please look at me?”
“Not now, Alexis.” He crosses his arms.
I slouch in my chair and settle in for what’s likely to be an unimaginably long stretch of time.
The next two hours pass like days with Erica’s contractions coming every few minutes like clockwork. My mom suggests we turn on the television to distract ourselves, but Erica and Dad can’t settle on a station, so we shut it off after only a few minutes.
Dr. Gupta checks in periodically to see how we’re all doing.
“You’re at seven and a half centimeters,” she says to Erica. “Shouldn’t be too much longer.”
“How much longer?” Erica asks through clenched teeth.
“Enough time for your family to run down to the cafeteria for coffee. None for you, of course.” She pats Erica’s foot. “Things will move quicker if you walk around. I’ll send in a nurse to help you get to your feet.”
“Do you need more ice chips, honey?” Lorenzo asks his wife.
“I need you to stop asking me if I need more ice chips,honey.”
“Lorenzo,” my mom says. “Why don’t you go downstairs and grab something to eat.” She glances at my dad and me. “You two should join him. You heard what Dr. Gupta said, we could be here a while.”
“I’m perfectly fine right here,” Dad says curtly.
Mom shoots me a pleading look that I translate to mean,please, for the love of God, get these two out of here. I push up from my chair and turn to face my father.
