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Like something took possession of my body, I run to the bathroom in lightning speed and grab a handful of towels, tossing them beside her on the bed from where I stand between her legs. I wipe my arm across my forehead, swiping the sweat. Suddenly she brings her chin to her chest and bears down, her teeth clenched tight and her eyes closed. The black becomes a little more noticeable. She lets up, breathing in and out.
All I can do is stare at her in awe, because I don’t know how she just knows what to do. I feel like I’m worthless standing here, and that doesn’t feel good.
As if on cue, she does the whole procedure over again. My eyes go back and forth between her and it, watching the circle of black grow bigger and closer, my stomach knotted tight and thanking God I don’t have a weak stomach. Presley’s bottom starts moving as if she’s trying to clench and come off the bed. I wouldn’t think that being tense would help push something out, so I grab the bottom of her thighs to hold her still. “It fucking hurts! It’s burning!” she screams but doesn’t let up.
She finally breaks again, waiting for another contraction. All that shit she’s been talking about is finally coming back to me. My hand slips down and touches the black, curious of how it feels. I don’t know if it’s just me but that seems like a lot of hair.
I look up to her crying, beautiful eyes staring at me. “Come on, baby, you got this. Get her out,” I say out of nowhere, like I’m finally coming out of shock and making myself useful.
When the next contraction starts, she pushes, and at the end of it, the head pushes through. I grab the neck from behind for support. She waits impatiently for the next one and pushes again. I slightly pull as she pushes until the shoulders come through, and then with ease, the baby comes out, feeling tiny in my hands. Presley hands me the blue bulb thing. “I did get this when I realized I screwed up. Clean the gunk out of her nose and mouth.”
She shows me how to operate it. I press the bulb in and suction stuff out of the mouth first, blowing it on a towel before repeating it. Her head falls back on the bed, but not before she delivers the placenta, just like she said. She looks exhausted. I could kick myself for not being awake.
A cry pierces the silent room from the tiny body in my arm, making my heart skip a beat, and I feel something I’ve never felt. I’ll never let anything hurt her.
Presley lifts up and removes her shirt, opening her arms for the baby. “I read about skin to skin. It’ll help her body temp regulate.”
I lay Kylar on her chest and grab a clean towel, putting it over her back so we can work on cleaning her off, and then put one under Presley to catch any blood. Sheets are already fucked. We’ll have to buy new bedding.
I grab two pillows and help prop her up so she’s not lying completely flat before grabbing my phone, already dialing 9-1-1. The dispatcher answers, “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
My heart swells as I stare at the incredible woman I’ve known all my life holding our daughter. At one time I held her like that. But now, even in love with her, I see her in a totally new light. I’ll never forget this night.
My hand is shaking while holding the phone. I’m a dad. I’m a little scared. I don’t know what’s next. “My wife went into labor at home. I just delivered my daughter. I don’t know what to do with the cord.”
“Stay on the line, Sir. The ambulance is on its way.”
SIX
PAXTON
Ifollow behind Navy and Chase in my short, hot pink dress that fits like a second skin, Landon right beside me as we make our way to the hostess house for the prom afterparty. It’s crawling with people, cups in most hands and music blaring so loud it’s likely to be heard from down the street.
My first prom was enjoyable, better than I imagined it would be. I always expected for it to be a big overdone spectacle, much like my brother and sister’s were—months of prep, hours of documenting it, and a night of irresponsible high school behavior ending in a little bit of regret.
When Landon and I came into the main living space after our mini fight, Mom had a photographer there for photos. I had something bitchy to say about that. I wouldn’t be a true teen if I didn’t give my mom a little hell. Besides, who hires a photographer for pre-prom photos? Normally, moms just snap a bunch with their smartphones and that’s it. Not my mom. She needs perfection, especially if it’s going to hang in her perfectly decorated house that has actually appeared in a magazine. She scolded me, of course, and even forced Navy to partake in the event, since we’re besties and all . . . Unfortunately, my best friend didn’t look too upset about it.
Once we left my house, we went to eat at one of the nicer restaurants in town first. I questioned how we had reservations for four with such short notice on my attendance and all, but apparently, Navy had high hopes I would be present, making me wonder if her and Landon had been plotting something behind the scenes regardless of that ‘bad weather’ he was talking about. He’d never admit it if he was.
When we made it to prom, we took photos—legit ones with the backdrop and all—and hung out for a while amongst people in my class that I socialize with at school and parties. We danced. It was a bit of a shock when Landon grabbed my hand and pulled me out on the dance floor. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was actually enjoying himself. When the crowd died down at prom, we left and changed, and now, here we are.
Landon guides me through the front door with his hand on my lower back, my buzz accompanying us. Navy and I started taking tequila shots in the limo. I tried to give some to Landon, since he wasn’t touching the beer in the cooler he had bought when I asked the driver to stop at a gas station after we left prom. I borrowed one of Dad’s midsize coolers and put it in the limo before we left my house.
I need him to drink. I plan to participate in the irresponsible behavior that goes on this time of year. It’s prom night, which comes with lots of sex. We must both drink or both be sober, and since I’ve already started, he needs to catch up. I don’t know what his deal is. Landon is a drinker, and on a night like this, I plan for him to not change his behavior. It’s not like he has to drive.
Navy stops and turns to face me. “We’re going to get a drink. Want something?”
I nod, already nudging Landon. “You want a drink?”
He stares at me. “Nah. I have a cooler of beer outside in the limo.”
With his answer, Navy and Chase head in the direction of the kitchen, most likely where the alcohol is. “Why didn’t you bring any in then?”
“I’m good right now.”
I narrow my eyes on his. “What’s wrong with you? You always drink when we’re out.”
He looks around at the packed house and his eyes scan the plastic, colored cups. “Someone probably needs to be sober. I’m not interested in pissing your parents off. I like sharing a bed.”
