Текст книги "The Edge of Always"

Автор книги: J. A. Redmerski

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

I know he wants me to elaborate on what I said, but I can’t. I can’t because the things I want to say would only upset and hurt him. And they would just be words. Words born from pain and anger and a part of me that wants to look God, or whoever, or whatever, in the face and tell It to go to Hell.

I need to calm myself. I need to take a step back and breathe.

I do just that.

“Camryn?”

“You’re going to be fine,” I say to him matter-of-factly. “I know you’re going to be fine.”

He steps back up to me, kisses me on the forehead, and says, “I will be.”

Andrew

35

The past four days have been stressful. Although Camryn said she’d remain positive and not let it get to her, she hasn’t been herself. Her nerves are shot all to hell. Twice I’ve heard her crying in the bathroom and throwing up. Ever since I told her about the headaches last Tuesday night, she’s been acting a lot like she was before we left out to visit Aidan and Michelle in Chicago: faking her smiles and pretending to laugh when something is supposed to be funny. She’s just not herself. Worried about her and remembering what happened after her miscarriage with the painkillers, I flat out asked her if she’s found that “moment of weakness” at all again.

She says she hasn’t and I believe her.

But nothing is going to fix her this time except us leaving this hospital today and me having a clean bill of health.

If I don’t… well, I don’t want to think about that.

I’m more worried about her than I am about myself.

Camryn was asked to wait in another room while the scan is being done. I can tell she wanted to argue with the nurse, but she did as she was asked. And just like the last time, I feel like I’ve been in here for hours, feeling slightly claustrophobic in the tunnel of this huge, noisy machine. Be very still, the technician had asked me. Try not to move or we’ll have to do it over. Needless to say, I practically didn’t breathe for fifteen minutes.

When the scan was over, I pulled the earplugs from my ears and tossed them in the nearby trash.

Camryn just about lost it when the nurse who came to discharge me said that it would be Wednesday before we’d know anything.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Camryn’s eyes were feral. She looked between me and the nurse, back and forth, hoping that one of us could do something.

I looked at the nurse. “Is there any way we can find out the results today?”

Knowing just by looking at Camryn’s expression that she wasn’t going to budge, the nurse sighed and said, “Go sit out in the waiting room and I’ll see if I can get Dr. Adams to come look now.”

Four hours later, we were sitting in Dr. Adams’s office.

“I don’t see any abnormalities,” he said, and I felt Camryn’s hand release its death grip on mine. “But given your history, I think it will be in your best interest to see me once a month for the next several months and for you to make note of any changes you feel need noting.”

“But you said you didn’t see anything,” Camryn said, squeezing my hand again.

“No, but I still think it would be in Andrew’s best interest. Just to be on the safe side. That way, if anything does start to show up, we’ll catch it very early on.”

“You’re saying you think something’s going to show up?”

I wanted to laugh at the look of mild frustration on that doctor’s face, but instead I looked at Camryn to my left and said, “No, that’s not what he’s saying. Just calm down. Everything’s fine. See, I told you everything would be fine.”

And all I could do from that day onward was hope I was telling her the truth.

Camryn

36

Many months later…

Andrew wrote me another letter sometime during our first month in our new house. I think I’ve read it a hundred times. Usually, I cry, but I find myself smiling a lot, too. He told me that he wanted me to read it once a week to mark another week gone by and nothing happened, that everything was still fine. And I did. I usually read it on Sunday night after he had already fallen asleep next to me in our bed. But sometimes, when I’d fall asleep before him, I’d reach over the next morning and take the letter out of the book beside the bed and read it before he woke up. And just like every other time before it, I would look over at him sleeping when I was done and hope for another week.

Andrew has always amazed me. He amazed me with the way his mind worked. The way he could look at me without saying anything and make me feel like the most important person in the world. He amazed me with how he could always be so positive even when life was falling apart around him. And how he could make a light shine in the darkest recesses of my mind when I thought that I’d never see another light there again.

Sure, he had his bad days, his “moments of weakness,” but by far I’ve never known anyone else like him. And I know I never will.

Maybe I really am a weak person at heart. Maybe if it wasn’t for Andrew, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. Sometimes I wonder what would’ve become of me if I never met him, if he wasn’t there to save me from that dangerous, reckless bus ride I decided to take on my own. I wonder what would’ve happened to me if he didn’t care about me enough to help me through my moment of weakness. I hate to think of myself this way, but sometimes you just have to face the reality of what is, of how things are and how they might’ve been based on your actions. I know in my heart that if it wasn’t for Andrew, I might not be here today at all.

These last several months have been very hard for us, but at the same time, they’ve been full of life and excitement and love and hope.

Life is a mysterious, often unfair, thing. But I think I’ve learned in my time with Andrew that it can also be a wonderful thing, and that usually when something happens that seems unfair, it’s just Life’s way of making room for better things to come. I like to think that. It gives me strength when I need it most.

And right now I need it.

I try to look up at the clock high on the sterile-white wall of the room, but I can barely make out the little black hands through the blur in my eyes. I want to know how long I’ve been here. I’m exhausted and weak, mentally and physically and can’t take it anymore. I swallow down a lump in my throat and my mouth feels as dry as sandpaper. I reach up to wipe a tear from my eye. But only one. I haven’t really cried much at all. Because the pain had been so unbearable before that it practically dried up all of my tears.

I can’t do this. I feel like at any moment I want to just give up. I want to tell everyone in the room to go away, to just leave me alone, and stop looking at me as if my soul needs mending. It does! It fucking does! But no one here can do it.

Mostly I’m just numb. I can’t feel anything anymore. But the hospital walls are starting to close in around me, making me somewhat claustrophobic. But as far as pain and heartache, I can’t feel anything. I wonder if I’ll be numb forever.

“You have to try to push,” Andrew says next to me, holding onto my hand.

I whip my head to the side to see him and argue, “But I can’t feel my waist! How can I push if I can’t feel myself pushing!” The only pushing I think I’ve managed to do were those words through my gritted teeth.

He smiles down at me and kisses my sweating forehead.

“You can do it,” Dr. Ball says from in between my legs.

I close my eyes tight, grip Andrew’s hand, and push. I think. I open my eyes and allow myself to breathe.

“Did I push? Is it working?”

God, I hope I don’t fart! Oh my God, that would be so fucking embarrassing!

“You’re doing great, baby.”

Andrew looks at the doctor now, waiting.

“A few more times and that should do it,” the doctor says.

Not liking her words, I let out a frustrated breath through my lips and throw my head back against the pillow harshly.

“Try again, baby,” Andrew says softly, never losing his cool, even though every time I notice him look at the doctor I sense a hidden level of worry in his face.

I raise my back from the pillow again and try to push, but like usual I can’t really tell if I’m actually pushing or I just think I am. Andrew adjusts one arm behind my back to help me to stay upright, and I bear down and push again, shutting my eyes so tight that I feel like they’re being shoved into the back of my skull. My teeth are gritted and bared. Sweat beads off my forehead.

I yell out something inaudible as I stop pushing and am able to breathe again.

And I feel something. Whoa… it’s not pain—the epidural cured me of that—but the pressure of the baby I definitely feel. If I didn’t know better, I’d think someone just stuck something unnaturally large into my vagina. My eyes get bigger and bigger.

“The baby’s head is out,” I hear the doctor say and then I hear a gross sucking sound as she cleans the baby’s throat out with a suction bulb.

Andrew wants to look; I see his neck stretch out like a turtle, trying to get a better view, but he doesn’t want to leave my side.

“Just couple more, Camryn,” the doctor says.

I push again, putting even more effort into it now that I know it’s actually working.

She pulls the baby’s shoulders out.

I push one more time and our baby is born.

“You did great,” the doctor says while clearing the baby’s throat some more.

Andrew kisses my cheek and my forehead, and he wipes my sweat-soaked hair away from my face and the sides of my neck. A few seconds later, the baby’s cries fill the room with smiles and excitement. I burst into tears, sobbing so hard that my entire body trembles uncontrollably with emotion.

And then the doctor announces, “It’s a girl.”

Andrew and I can hardly take our eyes off of her until he’s asked to cut the cord. He leaves my side, but smiles proudly as he makes his way over and does the honors. He can’t seem to decide who he wants to look at more, me or our daughter. I smile and lay my head back down against the pillow, utterly exhausted. I can finally make out the clock on the wall. It tells me I’ve been in labor for more than sixteen hours.

I feel more pressure and prodding and tugging between my legs as the doctor does stuff that, quite frankly, I don’t want to know about. I just stare up at the ceiling for a moment, lost in my glimpses of the past nine months, until I hear our baby shrieking on the other side of the room and I raise my head again so fast I almost get whiplash.

Andrew stands by as one of the nurses cleans her up and starts to wrap her in blankets. He looks over at me and says, “She definitely has your lungs, babe,” and plugs his ears with his fingers. I smile and watch the two of them, trying not to think about that tugging still going on downstairs. And then Andrew comes back around to the side of my bed.

He kisses me on the lips and whispers, “Sweaty. Look like you just ran a marathon. No makeup. Hospital gown. And you still manage to look beautiful.”

And despite all of that, just the same, he still manages to make me blush.

I reach up, an IV running along my hand, and I cup his face, pulling him back down towards me. “We did it,” I whisper onto his lips.

He kisses me softy again, and then the nurse steps up next to us with our daughter in her arms.

“Who would like to hold her first?” she asks.

Andrew and I look at each other, but he goes to move to the side so that the nurse can give her to me.

“No,” I say. “You go first.”

Only slightly conflicted about it, Andrew finally gives in and reaches out to take her. The nurse places her carefully into his arms and steps away once she sees that he’s got a good hold on her. At first, he appears awkward and boyish, afraid he’s going to drop her or that he’s not holding her right, but he quickly becomes more relaxed.

“Blonde hair,” he says next to me, beaming, his green eyes glistening with a thin layer of moisture. “And a lot of it, to boot!”

I’m still so worn out that the most response I can manage is a smile.

Andrew looks down at her, touches her little cheeks with the backs of his fingers, and kisses her forehead. After a few moments, he places her into my arms for the first time. And the second I come face-to-face with my baby girl, I lose it all over again. I can hardly see through the thickness of my tears. “She’s so perfect,” I say, not taking my eyes off of her. I’m almost afraid to, scared that if I look away for just a second that she’ll be gone, or that I’ll wake up from a dream. “Perfect,” I whisper and kiss her tiny nose.

Andrew

37

The whole family, mine and Camryn’s both, are out in the waiting room—minus Camryn’s dad and brother. They still don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl. Camryn and I didn’t know through her whole pregnancy. We decided to let her surprise us. And she did.

Before I let the family in to see them, I sit with Camryn in the private room we were moved to shortly after the delivery. We’ve been in here for a short while, waiting on the nurses to bring her back after doing whatever it is they do. I take her into my arms after the nurse checks Camryn’s hospital bracelet and matches it up with the one “Baby Parrish” is wearing around her tiny ankle. I check it myself too before letting the nurse leave. And I look her over real good. One can never be too careful these days, and I’m gonna make damn sure they bring the same baby back they left with. But there’s no mistaking that thick blonde hair and that small yet blood-curdling scream that makes me completely submissive to her. If she could talk, I’d do anything she said without thinking twice about it. Give me a bottle! Yes ma’am! Change my diaper! You got it! Step on that nurse’s foot for wrapping me up like a frickin’ burrito! All right, babygirl!

Camryn holds her close to her chest, letting her suckle on her breast.

When Camryn first found out that she was pregnant again was the day before we moved into our new house. But she didn’t tell me about it until after my doctor’s appointment that following Monday. She said she was afraid to, I guess in the same way I was afraid to tell her right away that I was having headaches again. But after that, we talked a lot about how we were going to do things differently this time. One of those things was her decision to breast-feed. With the first pregnancy, Camryn wasn’t too thrilled about a baby sucking on her tit, especially when she might need to feed her in public. Back then, I was just agreeing with her wishes and never tried to change her mind. I had no reason to, really.

But this time, when Camryn brought the issue up again, she said, “Y’know what, baby? I’ve been reading a lot more about pregnancy and the benefits of breast-feeding, and I really don’t care what people think. I feel like I want to and I should.”

And I said, “Then I think you should, too.”

I sit down next to her. I was glad she made that decision on her own, without me adding my input. Hey, as long as I don’t start that man-lactating stuff and she expects me to try it, I’m good with whatever decision she makes.

“I read that most babies are born with blue eyes,” Camryn says, looking down at her, “but I think later she’ll have your green eyes.”

I brush our daughter’s head lightly with my fingertips. “Maybe so.” I can’t stop looking at the two of them, my beautiful wife and my precious little girl. I feel like I’ve stepped into another world, one brighter than I ever imagined. I really didn’t think I could be any happier the way I have been with Camryn. I didn’t think that was possible.

I think Camryn is still somewhat in shock.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask, never losing my warm smile.

Her tired eyes soften as she looks up at me. “You were right,” she says.

The baby makes a little sucking noise, so faint I barely hear it, but I find myself attentive to every noise and move she makes.

Camryn goes on, “You said that I wouldn’t miscarry this time. You said that your tumor wasn’t going to come back. You said that everything would work out. And it did.” She glances at the baby for a moment, brushing her eyebrow with her finger, and then looks back up at me. “Thank you for being right.”

I stand up from the chair, take one side of her face and chin into my hand, and I raise her head so I can kiss her lips.

There’s a soft knock at the door and it opens slowly. My mom’s head peeks around the corner.

“Come on in,” I say, gesturing her inside.

The oversized door opens the rest of the way, and so many people walk into the room one after the other that I stop counting after Aidan and Michelle, who is five months pregnant.

There’s a lot of hugging going around, everybody wrapping their arms around my back but trying to get a glimpse of the baby at the same time.

“Congratulations, bro,” Aidan says, patting my back. “I had a feeling you’d have one before me.” He reaches over and rubs Michelle’s rounded belly. She playfully brushes his hand away and says something about how he better not stick his finger in her belly button again. Then she hugs me and makes her way to Camryn’s bedside.

“We’re having a boy,” Aidan says.

“Really?” I ask. “Awesome.”

The announcement gets Camryn’s attention too, but Michelle speaks up first.

“He doesn’t know that for sure,” she says. “He just thinks he knows.”

Camryn laughs lightly and says, “Take it from me, if a Parrish brother says he’s having a boy or a girl, he’s probably right.”

“All right, well we’ll see,” Michelle says, still not convinced.

I look at my brother, and I’ve seen his confident look before. Yeah, they’re definitely having a boy.

“Oh my God,” I hear Natalie say quietly from somewhere in the room, “the blanket is pink. Does that mean what I think it means?” She brings both hands up to her face, her ring-adorned fingers touching her lips. I’m actually surprised that she’s being so tame. Blake stands next to her, quiet as ever.

Camryn looks at me first and I give her the nod of approval and then she says to everybody, “Yes, this is our daughter.”

All of the women immediately migrate the rest of the way through the room and over to the bed. Camryn’s mom reaches out, first wanting to hold her, and Camryn covers her breast with her gown and carefully hands her over.

“Oh, she’s so beautiful, Camryn,” Nancy says harmoniously. Her bleached-blonde hair is fixed into a sloppy bun on the top of her head. Her eyes as blue as Camryn’s. They really do favor one another. “She’s perfect. My perfect little granddaughter.” Camryn’s stepdad, Roger, looks terrified standing against the wall by himself. I’m not sure if it’s because this kind of thing makes him uncomfortable or because he realizes he’s now married to a grandmother. I laugh inside.

Asher hugs me next. “If it would’ve been a boy, I would’ve been worried with having another one of you running around.” He grins and nudges me with his elbow.

“Yeah, well, just wait, little brother,” I say, sucking on my tooth, “you’re next in line, and another one of you is just as bad as another one of me.”

“I don’t know about that,” he counters.

“No, you’re right,” I say. “You have to have a girlfriend first to pull it off. I don’t think you have much to worry about as far as having any kids anytime soon.”

“Dude, I have a girlfriend,” he says.

“Who? Lara Croft? Or one of Luis Royo’s girls?” I laugh.

“Whatever, man,” he says, crossing his arms and shaking his head, but I know it’ll take a lot more to get under his skin than that. If I didn’t screw with him he’d think something was wrong with me.

“Uncle Asher,” I say, to make up for it anyway. “It has a nice ring to it.”

He nods contemplatively and says, “Yeah, I think it does, too.”

Nancy passes our daughter to my mom next. I’ve never seen her so proud before. She keeps looking over at me and then back at the baby, back and forth.

“She’s got your nose and your lips, Andrew,” my mom says.

“And Camryn’s hair and her lungs,” I point out.

Natalie is at the foot of the bed now and she’s fidgeting, her hands down in front of her. My mom notices how anxious she is to hold her, so she kisses her new granddaughter on the head and passes her to Natalie.

“I hope you washed your hands, Nat,” Camryn says from the bed.

“I did!” Natalie says, and then ignores Camryn and starts talking to my daughter even though she’s asleep, “Oh, you are the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” her voice rises a little higher the more excited she gets. Then she looks up straight at Camryn and says with a serious face, “Oh my God, I want one.”

Blake’s eyes get huge, and I think he’s stopped breathing. When I look back at him a few minutes later, he’s already made his way to stand next to Roger against the wall.

Camryn’s aunt Brenda holds her next, and then one of her cousins. After Michelle holds her for a few minutes and gushes about how beautiful she is, she places her back in Camryn’s arms. I take the chair next to Camryn against the bed again.

“So, have you decided on a name?” my mom asks.

Camryn and I look at each other, and we’re both thinking the same thing.

“Not yet,” Camryn answers, and it’s all that she says. I know I’m probably the only one in the room who sees it now that the name issue has been brought up: Camryn can’t help but think about Lily. But she lets that moment pass and kisses our baby on the cheek, so obviously proud of what she has despite what she lost.

Most of the family is gone before night falls, but our moms hang around a little longer afterward, getting to know each other. This is the first time they’ve officially met. And finally they leave, shortly before seven, just as the nurse comes into the room to check on the baby and Camryn.

When the three of us are alone again, I dim the lights in the room so that only the one near the private bathroom is on. Our daughter is sleeping soundly in Camryn’s arms. I know Camryn’s tired, completely exhausted, but she can’t bring herself to lay the baby down so she can get some sleep herself. I offered to take her so she could sleep, but she insisted she stay awake.

I watch the two of them for a moment, such a perfect moment, and then I walk over and sit down on the side of the bed next to them.

Camryn looks over at me, then back down at our sleeping angel.

“Lily,” I say simply.

Camryn looks back over at me, confused.

I nod slowly as if to say, Yes, you heard me right, and I touch our baby’s soft head again.

“Do you remember what I told you? Back in Chicago when I found the pills?”

She shakes her head no.

This time I touch Camryn’s face, tracing my fingers down one side and then the other.

“I said that Lily just wasn’t ready then.” I pause and then add with a smile, “Same soul, different body.”

Something thoughtful sparks in Camryn’s eyes. She tilts her head gently to the side, looking at me in wonder. And then she gazes down at the baby again and doesn’t look back up for what seems like forever.

When she does, tears are trailing down her cheeks. “You think so?” she asks, hopeful.

“Yeah. I do.”

She starts to cry harder and gently presses baby Lily against her breasts, rocking her. Then she looks up at me and nods several times. “Lily,” she whispers quietly and kisses the top of her head.

The next morning, I stir awake in the chair beside Camryn’s bed where I fell asleep the night before. I hear Camryn’s voice speaking quietly in the room, and like every other time before, I pretend to be asleep while she reads that letter I wrote her months ago.