Party of Four

The Ticking Clock - Cole

In the month that followed Nica’s birthday, we tackled the task of finishing Poppy’s nursery. Clothes were put away, blankets and sheets were organized, nightlights and wipes warmers were set up, the diaper genie was ready to go. Each day that passed brought us closer to her impending birth. Each day that passed had a knife twisting in my gut, a voice in the back of my mind telling me I wouldn’t be able to get past my fear of driving.

The due date was less than a week away, and I sat at the end of the street at the stop sign in my dad’s blue Chevy one morning. The turn signal ticked in the silence, my hands gripping the wheel until my knuckles turned white.

I sucked in a deep breath, turning off our street and headed through the neighborhood. The drive was agonizingly slow. I tried to push the accelerator down, but every muscle in my leg tensed, not letting me move past a crawl. My dad was patient though, and fortunately no one drove up behind us.

I reached the front of our neighborhood. The gates that protected our little community reflected sunlight off of them, and I sat there. They swung open slowly, but I just sat there. They stayed open and I could feel the guard in the security box watching us. Judging.

“Drive, son, it’s time,” my dad said, his voice soft, but firm.

We were at the edge of the subdivision, and I was on the edge of a panic attack. My vision was narrowing to pinpoint tunnels, my mouth went dry, my palms were sweating. I was vaguely aware of hyperventilating as the fear I’d had for over a decade paralyzed me.

I didn’t even notice when my dad shifted the car into park, or him taking off his seat belt. I didn’t notice him getting out of the car or opening my door. It wasn’t until he was pulling me from the driver’s seat that I started to regain fine motor skills.

My dad reached for my cigarettes and lit one before sticking it to my lips. The taste of smoke filled my mouth. My lungs. I finally sucked in a normal breath and closed my eyes for a second. My heartbeat was racing, echoing between my ears.

“It’s okay, you tried. You did good. You tried,” my dad reassured me as I lifted a shaking hand to take the cigarette.

“I can’t do it,” my voice cracked. “I’m never going to be able to do it.” The words were half-whispered, filled with emotion.

“It’s okay,” his hands were on my shoulders, grounding me. “You’ll get there. It’s okay.”

He walked me around to the passenger side and helped me in. There was a part of me that screamed, rejecting the idea of getting back in the car. I was already drained though, and didn’t have the fight in me.

Dad turned us around and drove back to the house in silence. As I headed upstairs, I realized Riley and Nica were awake. I could hear his voice coming down the stairs from her open bedroom door. “Think they’ll stay this size?” he asked. “You know, after she’s born?”

Nica’s laughter filled the air, and I tried to relax as I climbed the stairs. “Maybe. You don’t like ‘em better like this, do you?”

“No,” he answered quickly and I could easily picture the scowl that would’ve crossed his face. “They’re perfect no matter the size. I just…I’m trying to get an idea of how long I get to appreciate them like this.”

I stood in the doorway an eyebrow arched as Riley traced the line of Nica’s sports bra. His finger just barely glided across her skin as he followed the scoop over the tops of her breasts.

Nica caught my eye and grinned. I just watched as Riley leaned down and pressed kisses to her chest.

“Where did you go?” she asked.

Riley ignored my presence as he tugged the sports bra down, exposing one perfect breast. Nica didn’t seem bothered.

I crossed the room to join her on the other side of the bed as Riley drew a circle around her n****e with his tongue. “I went with dad to the store. I didn’t really expect either of you to be up so early.”

“The bigger I get, the harder it is to sleep,” she admitted, visibly trying not to react to Riley’s mouth closing over her n****e.

“I’m sorry, Peaches,” I leaned down to kiss her.

At the same time, Riley pulled away, a sour look on his face as his mouth worked. Nica immediately began giggling which caused an amused huff to escape me too. “Are you good, Rye?” I asked, an eyebrow arching.

“I thought milk wasn’t supposed to come in until after the baby is born,” he said, wiping his tongue with the back of his hand. “That didn’t taste like milk either, that was…that was something else.”

“Colostrum,” Nica answered, readjusting her sports bra to cover herself up again. “It comes in before the breast milk does. It’s supposed to be really good for the baby.”

“Well, it is not good for me,” Riley scowled, inducing another round of laughter from both me and Nica. In this moment, curled up in bed with Nica, laughing at Riley, my driving trauma was forgotten. Things felt okay. I would be okay. We would be okay.

~*~

The next couple of days had me on edge, even when other people were home too. Every late night trip Nica took to the bathroom, every unusual cramp, all sent a spike of pure adrenaline through me, followed by the instant icy grip of panic. The hospital bags sat by the front door in the entryway, ready to go at any moment.

It was three days before Poppy’s due date. Riley was stuck at Stella Cucina’s, covering a shift for Mallory. Mom and dad were both working too. Nica and I were curled up on the couch watching a horror movie she’d been wanting to see for the longest time.

Nica shifted suddenly, a sharp gasp escaping her. Her hand gripped my arm.

“Nica?” I was instantly alert.

She didn’t answer right away, she just stared, wide eyed. Slowly, she looked down at the soaked couch cushion beneath her. “Well…I think my water just broke.”

I sprang up, my heart slamming against my ribs. The feeling of the crisis was sudden, overwhelming, and terrifyingly real. My mind, trained for efficiency in the kitchen, went completely blank. “Okay, okay,” I repeated, unable to process a single thought beyond that one word.

Nica slowly, calmly rose to her feet, her hand cradling the bottom of her bump. “Call Riley,” she instructed. “I’m going to change.”

Her voice cut through the panic, yet I was still frozen. Just for a moment, while I watched her leave the living room. A moment later, she appeared on the landing, heading for her room. Suddenly, I could function again. I found my phone and pressed the button to call Riley. No answer. Of course, he was working.

Mom and dad didn’t answer either.

I called Stella Cucina’s directly, and was on hold, waiting for the call to be picked up when Nica began her descent again. I moved to meet her in the entryway at the foot of the stairs, but she stopped halfway down. Her knees buckled and she cried out, hanging onto the railing. Pain twisted her face. I dropped the phone, forgetting it as I raced up the steps to her.

I could hear Riley’s voice through the speaker, “Stella Cucina, this is Riley. How can I help you?” I had no time to worry about the phone now though. I rushed Nica out to the Mini, made sure she was comfortable and secure, then came back in for the hospital bags and the phone. Riley had hung up.

I called again as I went back out, putting the phone on speaker this time. “O Bella Ciao” filtered through the speaker. Nica’s face twisted in pain again, and she tried to hide it as she said, “Cole, you’re shaking.”

I ignored her, focusing on the restaurant’s hold music as I stuck the key in the ignition.

“Okay,” I sighed softly, putting the car in reverse.

“Cole,” she couldn’t hide the pain this time. Her breath seemed stolen from her as she gasped, her hand covering her stomach.

“Okay,” I repeated again, slowly backing out of the driveway like I had so many times before with dad.

I tried to focus on my breathing. Long, slow, deep breaths. I focused on Nica next to me. I focused on the Italian music still coming over the phone’s speaker.

I got to the stop sign at the end of the street and felt a cold sweat break out across my forehead. The ticking of the turn signal was a metronome, keeping time with the song, counting down to disaster.

I made the turn, headed for the front of the neighborhood. Headed for the gates. Headed for that line I hadn’t been able to cross yet. This time, if I failed, I failed Nica. I failed Poppy.

She didn’t say anything. She just watched me, her breathing was hard and heavy, her hand clutching her stomach where she felt the contractions. If the phone’s timer was anything to go by, they seemed about five minutes apart.

I could see the gates reflecting the light of the street lamp. I imagined Poppy, tiny and defenseless. Nica, trusting and in need of help. And Riley too damn busy to answer the phone. I ended the call and redialed while the gates opened. This time, instead of hitting the button for to-go’s, I hit the button for seating inquiries. “O Bella Ciao” came back through the speaker.

The gates opened.

There was no time for trauma, no room for panic. This wasn’t practice anymore. This was life. My woman needed me. My baby needed me.

I pressed the accelerator. My foot shook, but my leg didn’t tense.

The Mini drove smoothly through the open gates.

“Cole…” Nica breathed, and I could hear it in her voice. The shock mixed with pride, and she reached over, giving my thigh a reassuring squeeze as I reached the main road. I could do this. I was going to do this.

The road was dark, busy, and absolutely terrifying. I could do this though. I swallowed, but my mouth was dry. The road cleared, and I pulled out.

“Cole, you’re driving.” I could hear the smile in Nica’s voice even without looking at her.

There was a rush of relief that broke the tension of the panic attack and I let out a strangled laugh. Tears sprang to my eyes. I hadn’t just driven past the gates. I drove through a trauma that had ruled my life for over a decade. “I know,” I choked out. I was still trembling, but I felt whole.

“Stella Cucina, this is Mackenzie. How can I help you?”

“It’s Cole,” I managed, my voice thick with the mix of emotions that were flooding me. “Where’s Riley?”

“He ran a couple of curbsides out.”

“As soon as he’s in, put him on.”

“Yeah, of course. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s great,” I breathed.

A moment later, I heard Mackenzie’s voice, but couldn’t make out the words. And then Riley’s voice was clear, “Cole?”

“Nica’s in labor,” there was no preface. Just straight to the point. “We’re headed to the hospital.”