Ahmed knew that he had to get somewhere. The contractions were coming closer together, and there wasn’t a hospital in sight. He made it to the highway and headed north. He remembered talking with Susan Morgan at the ad agency about her folks in Coalinga and what it was like growing up there, so he called her from the car.
“We can be there in forty-five minutes,” he explained. “She’s sleeping quietly right now, so I think we have the time, if we’re lucky. Got our daughter Holly with us. She’s twenty months.” His voice wavered from the stress of fighting desperadoes just to get on a dark, lonely road. He could hear the uneven breathing of both Holly and Kimberly. Their tone and cadence was different, yet somehow also the same, like two singers in harmony.
“They’ll get you taken care of,” Susan assured him.
“Send me the address, and I’ll look it up and make sure we get there. Let them know she needs a doctor since she had a mild stroke or something,” he said.
“Will do. My ma Val and my poppa Jerry will be waiting, and if Dr. Whitlow is in town, I’m sure he will come and help out.”
Ahmed said goodbye, and he tried to stay calm and focused.
“We’ll be there soon,” he said into the darkness to Kim. “Just breathe and relax. Stay awake.” He carefully kept his distance from a pair of speeding tanker trucks that rattled the Civic with the wind of their passing.
“Okay, baby. Just get us there,” Kim said.
“You breathe, and I will sing to you. What song would you like to hear?” Ahmed said clearing his throat.
“Can’t think right now. Anything,” she said.
They both were silent for a moment until Kimberly chose.
“How about some Stevie Wonder?”
Ahmed tried to remember a Stevie Wonder song but couldn’t at first. Then his heart felt a perfect choice. He gathered himself to sing.
“You are the sunshine in my life…that’s why I’ll always stay in town…. You are the Snapple of my eye, forever you’ll sway in my heart.”
“That was lovely,” Kim said.
Holly woke up giggling. “Daddy’s trying to sing,” she informed her mother.
Ahmed hoped for better reviews before he went for the second verse.
“AAAHH—!”
Kim went into a convulsion and Ahmed took the next exit.
Ahmed stopped on the front yard of a small wood-frame house with a large, weathered barn in back. As he brought the car to a stop, a petite woman with short silver-gray hair ran to the car. Behind her was a man in his late seventies, running not far behind.
Val shouted instructions. Behind Jerry was an elderly man with a stethoscope around his neck.
“Turn the car off and help your wife!” Dr. Whitlow shouted. “Jerry will help you carry her in. Val will get your daughter. There’s no time to spare. Are the contractions more than five minutes apart?”
“Yes!” Ahmed cut the engine and scrambled out, already hurrying for the door. “They seem to be about twenty minutes apart. During the last one, I think she had a seizure,” he added as Jerry and Dr. Whitlow opened the rear door and carefully got Kim to her feet.
“Let’s get her to the guest bedroom. Jerry, you got her?” Whitlow asked as he pressed fingers to Kim’s wrist and glanced at his watch to take her pulse.
“We got her, Doc.” Jerry steadied her as they slowly walked toward the open-air porch and the open front door. “Ambulance is on the way, but it’ll be a while.”
Inside the bedroom, Kimberly barely noticed the embroidered ivory, rose, and aster handmade bedspread with matching down-stuffed pillows. Over the spread was a translucent blue shower curtain. The room was neatly arranged with high-school pictures and cheerleading trophies, presumably belonging to the towering redheaded girl in the pictures. Near the bed was a card table full of medical supplies. Kimberly’s eyes focused on a prom photo of the red-haired girl and a handsome White boy in a frame on the nightstand while the doctor checked her heart. She tried to find the face of her boyfriend in the room.
“Ahmed?” she murmured as a blurry figure moved closer.
“Kimmy. The doctor’s here,” Ahmed said.
“Take care of my babies.”
“We will…we will.”
“Wait in the kitchen, please,” the doctor ordered, and then Ahmed was gone.
Ahmed was beginning to recognize that he and his family had reached a safe place. The quiet farmhouse smelled of fresh produce, with the comforting infusion of chicken and sage cooking on a gas stovetop. It was his first time outside of Los Angeles without a limo. It felt like another planet, one where the eerie sound of silence filled the night air.
“Forty-five years? That’s incredible,” Ahmed said while sipping Earl Grey with bergamot for the first time.
“Brenda is married to her high-school sweetheart—has a daughter—and has been practicing law in Riverside for three years. My boys are both in San Francisco in property management,” Val said proudly. “And Susan you’ve met. There’s nothing like watching your kids make something amazing of themselves.”
“Think Kim is okay?” Ahmed asked softly.
“Whit is the best. Known him for years,” Jerry said, drinking strong coffee with a shot of bourbon for color.
Dr. Whitlow appeared as if on cue and pulled Ahmed by the elbow into the tight hallway. He wore his stethoscope around the collar of his plaid work shirt like a lopsided necklace. Together they stood in the shadows as Ahmed listened to the news.
“Son, I think Kimberly is suffering from eclampsia. Without the medication, I can’t help her.” The doctor shook his head. “Your child will be here before the ambulance.”
“She going to die?” Ahmed asked numbly.
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Whitlow said, grimacing. “The high-blood-pressure medicine she needs is on the bus.”
“Please do something,” Ahmed begged.
“I’m so sorry, son. They’re not going to make it here in time. I think you should come in and say goodbye.”
Ahmed wiped the tears from his eyes as Dr. Whitlow ushered him into the bedroom and he sat down next to Kimberly. Her breathing was shallow and quick. Her eyes fluttered as she felt his presence.
“Kim?”
She murmured to herself and then said, “Honey?”
“I’m here,” he whispered, and took her hand and pressed it to his heart.
“Is the baby here yet?” she mumbled.
“Not yet, but the doctor is here.”
“Good. I’m not.” She scowled, eyes still closed, and then her face relaxed and she didn’t seem to feel the need to finish her sentence.
“You’re not…?” Ahmed prompted.
“Ready,” she breathed. “Don’t leave,” she pleaded as her body tightened and she squeezed his hand.
Ahmed instinctively squeezed back.
“Ohhh. Mammaloshen!” Kim screamed.
“Stay with me,” Ahmed begged as Dr. Whitlow tried to push him back and Val came hurrying in. “Stay,” he cried, “please stay!”
Kim left Ahmed with a second daughter. He named her Kalifa because he liked the sounds the vowels made when they danced together.
