Chapter Fifteen
Ian
I chuckled as the credits rolled on One Day at a Time. Erin had suggested I watch this show, and I’d “whatevered” her about it until today.
I stood and stretched my legs in the business class lounge, downed the remainder of my scotch, and checked the departure board. My flight to Tokyo was still delayed, as we were waiting on a plane from Denver or something. I didn’t care about the logistics.
After buying a second drink, I flopped back in my chair and turned on another episode of One Day at a Time.
“Great show,” said the woman next to me.
My knee-jerk reaction was to counter with a “not interested,” but instead I looked over. She wore a wedding ring and her hands cradled a definitely pregnant belly. Like, so pregnant, I wouldn’t feel weird commenting on it. “Congrats,” I said.
She rubbed her stomach. “Thanks.”
I turned back to my show, which no longer tamped down my loneliness. This sadness would go away, eventually. It happened when my mom left, and it happened when my childhood dog died. At some point, probably weeks or months from now, I’d be totally fine.
About halfway through the episode, my ears registered the word “Tokyo” through my headphones. I pressed pause and listened. My flight was now boarding.
I packed my tablet and picked up my bag, nodding goodbye to the pregnant lady next to me. I stepped toward the door and hesitated a moment before reaching into my briefcase.
I’d turned off my phone as a defense mechanism, so that I wouldn’t have to endure the silence of not hearing from Erin. At least with the power off, I could pretend that maybe she was texting me back.
But now, just before boarding a thirteen-hour flight, I had to give us one more shot. I turned my phone on and waited for the inevitable nothing.
My phone buzzed.
And it buzzed again.
I had a text. From Erin.
Right there on my home screen.
I dropped the phone, spinning around as if looking for confirmation that this was really happening.
“You okay?” the pregnant lady asked.
“My…” What even was Erin to me now? Shit. “The woman I love is in labor,” I announced.
My new pregnant friend clapped with joy. “Congratulations. Are you flying to see her?” She nodded toward the departure board.
Was I flying to…? I shook my head. “No.” I picked up my phone. “No. I’m flying away from her. I have to go to her.”
“Where is she?”
“Downtown,” I said.
She wrinkled her nose.
“What?”
“Good luck getting there.”
She pointed to the TV broadcasting the local news. A large protest currently marched its way up and down both sides of the Kennedy, the expressway I needed to get me into the city.
“Shit.”
“Good luck.” She returned to her book.
There was more than one way to get downtown. The blue line connected right to the airport. I hadn’t taken the El in years, but desperate times.
Before leaving the safety of the business class lounge, I called Erin, because texting wasn’t good enough. Yanking at my hair, I waited as her phone rang.
…
Erin
None of this matched up with my birthing plan. It was all wrong. This was not how my child was supposed to enter the world.
When I had gone to the birthing class, I’d been all, like, “Yes, I’m going au natural, no drugs, no nothing.” I’d planned on walking this baby out of my uterus, as nature intended.
But when I got to the hospital, Dana put me in a bed with an IV, pumping me full of antibiotics because of this dumb strep positive something or other—I didn’t understand the full scope of the situation. And then she strapped a fetal monitor to my gut. And then there was the whole thing where I was leaking fluid everywhere I went, which seemed to make Katie and Nat pretty uncomfortable, so I stayed in bed, like a patient, like a chump. I was no longer in charge. I loathed not being in charge.
I checked my phone again. Still nothing from Ian.
“He’s not answering me,” I said. “Still.”
“He’s probably away from his phone,” Nat said. “Like you were all afternoon, remember?”
“Maybe he’s being all unresponsive out of spite. Maybe he’s playing games.”
“With a woman in labor?” Katie said. “Ian’d never be that callous. Right, Nat?”
Nat looked lost in thought. “Not with Erin,” she decided.
Oh, good. So I had to play Nat’s hunch that I was the exception to the rule.
I breathed through every contraction, envisioning the pain as it radiated from my midsection down through my legs to my toes. These were truly the worst period cramps known to womanhood. I tried to focus on The Office, which Katie had started streaming for me on the TV, but most of the jokes barely registered in my brain. I was on edge, waiting for the next wave of pain, never quite knowing when it was going to come or how bad it was going to get. That was the worst part, the not knowing. If things stayed the way they were, I could handle it. But where was my current pain on the scale? I had no frame of reference. If this was an eight, I could handle a ten. But, Holy Mother of God, if this was a four, I was fucked.
“I can’t do this,” I said.
“Sure you can.” Katie, texting away, mindlessly patted my hand.
“You’re doing great.” Nat fluffed my pillow, which only made me more uncomfortable. She was the opposite of Katie, hovering, cooing. It stressed me out. I felt like I had to acknowledge her every move, when really I just wanted to be left to my own devices. It was like when I had the flu or something. Just leave me alone with my TV. Let me handle this on my own. I was the boss, after all. At least, I used to be the boss. Today I felt more like a zoo animal whose entire nether regions were on display for all to see.
“When my sister had her baby, you could hear her screams for miles.” Nat squeezed my shoulder. “You’re doing way better, comparably.”
“Not helping.” I gritted my teeth, forcing my eyes to focus on Michael Scott. The last thing I wanted to do today was entertain people, to constantly reassure everyone else that I was doing fine, that I was super excited about this day and the fact that I was about to push a fully formed child through my vagina. The truth was, I was freaked the fuck out, constantly teetering on the edge between tears and anger.
Where was Ian?
“Can I get you more ice chips?” Natalie’s eyes were still on the door.
“No!” I barked. My next contraction was starting. And fuck the ice chips. Fuck all of this motherfucking, cocksucking bullshit!
Nat bent down next to me and started panting right in my goddamn ear, but it was the wrong rhythm, the wrong depth. I tried to push her away, but she took it to mean that I wanted to hold her hand. She clutched mine, and it was all wrong. Her hands weren’t strong enough. They were too smooth, too small.
“Stop watching the door!” I cried as the pain reached my toes. “He’s not coming!”
“He might be,” Natalie said.
“He also might not be.” Damn it. I’d been doing just fine on my own without Ian. I gestured toward The Office on the TV, tears streaming down both cheeks. “Maybe I don’t need a guy like Ian. If anything, I need Jim, someone safe who will go all-in on me, who won’t bail, who will prioritize me over everything. That is not Ian Donovan.”
Katie’s phone made a noise like she’d just sent a text. I’d been hearing that stupid sound all afternoon. “It took Jim, like, one hundred years to get up the nerve to tell Pam how he felt.”
Curse Katie and her TV trivia knowledge. What did she actually know about anything? Jim was perfect. Jim was the ideal. “But he did tell her eventually,” I said. “And he stuck by her.”
“And then they had marriage trouble in the later years.”
“What the fuck, Katie?” I said. “Why are you arguing with a woman in labor? Jim is perfect, full stop. Leave it alone!”
“Maybe you should face facts that you’re not a Jim girl,” Nat said softly. She was still next to me, cradling her own hand like a wounded bird. I’d crushed it during the last contraction. Not my problem. Not today. Sorry, Natalie.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Jim’s too sweet for you, too romantic. He’d be all up in your business all the time, being too nice, and you’d lose it. Like you said when I was telling you about how Chris and I are in touch constantly. You’re not that kind of girl. You like your space. Ian can give you space.”
“You’re so right!” Katie said. “Erin would eat a guy like that alive.”
“That’s why you and Ian kind of made sense.” Nat kept bringing up Ian, like her crushed hand had taught her nothing about the force of my rage.
“There’s such a thing as too much space,” I said. “He basically ignored me while he was in Tokyo, and now he’s avoiding my texts while I’m in labor.”
Nat reached down and stroked my hair. “I guarantee he’s not avoiding your texts. I’m sure there’s a good explanation, and we’ll hear from him as soon as he gets the messages. Don’t jump to conclusions. Not yet.”
“And if he doesn’t call me?”
“Then fuck him. You don’t need his ass.”
I squeezed her hand, much gentler this time. “Thank you.”
The three of us stared at my phone, waiting.
Then it buzzed. Ian’s name popped up on screen.
“He’s calling!” I squealed.
“So answer it.” Nat covered my hand with hers. “And be nice. Remember: innocent until proven guilty.”
I nodded and answered the phone.
“Erin?”
My heart almost dissolved into a pool of mush when I heard his voice.
“I’m on my way,” he said.
“Okay.” Those were the only two syllables I could choke out at the moment.
“I’m sorry I didn’t respond before. My phone was off. It’s the only reason why. I’m at the airport now, but I’m getting on the blue line and coming for you. Wait for me, please. I…” He paused. “I prioritize you.”
And I said, “Good. Because, Ian, I need you.”