Chapter 17: First Kick
1252 Words
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*Wednesday. 3:17am. Cole Penthouse. Bedroom.*
I woke up to a flutter.
Not gas.
Not hunger.
A flutter.
Low.
On the right side.
Like tiny butterfly wings.
I froze.
Waited.
`flutter`
Again.
My breath caught.
“Adrian,” I whispered.
He was dead asleep.
Arm thrown over me.
Face peaceful in a way I hadn’t seen in years.
“Adrian,” I said again. Louder.
Nothing.
`flutter flutter`
I put my hand on my stomach.
And cried.
Because our baby just kicked me.
For the first time.
And he missed it.
---
*3:20am.*
I tried to wake him gently.
Shook his shoulder.
“Babe.”
He mumbled.
Turned over.
“Adrian!”
He shot up.
Instantly awake.
Eyes wide.
“Zara? What’s wrong? Are you okay? The baby?”
“I felt it,” I said. Voice shaking.
“I felt the baby kick.”
His face changed.
Relief.
Then confusion.
Then... something else.
“When?” he asked.
“Just now,” I said.
“Like 2 minutes ago.”
He looked at my stomach.
Put his hand on it.
Waited.
Nothing.
He looked at me.
“It stopped,” I said. Quiet.
“It stopped when you woke up.”
Silence.
He pulled his hand back.
“Okay,” he said.
“Okay?” I said.
“Yeah. That’s cool,” he said.
Then he laid back down.
Turned away from me.
My chest hurt.
---
*3:35am.*
I was still crying.
Quietly.
Into my pillow.
I didn’t mean to.
But I did.
Adrian sat up.
“Are you crying?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because you missed it!” I said.
The words came out louder than I meant.
“Because our baby kicked for the first time
and you were asleep and I was alone!”
He stared at me.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I didn’t know—”
“You didn’t know because you weren’t listening!”
I said.
“I’ve been waiting for this for weeks!
And it happened and you missed it!”
He got out of bed.
Ran a hand through his hair.
“I’m sorry, Zara. I’m really sorry.
I didn’t mean to miss it.”
“You always miss things,” I said.
The words hurt as soon as they left my mouth.
He stopped.
“What did you say?” he asked. Quiet. Dangerous.
“I said you always miss things,” I said.
Standing up now too.
Angry and hormonal and hurt.
“You missed 4 years.
You’re gonna miss this too, aren’t you?”
He flinched.
Like I’d slapped him.
“Don’t,” he said.
“Don’t what? Tell the truth?”
He walked to the window.
Back to me.
Shoulders tense.
“I’m trying,” he said.
“So f*****g hard.
I’m here. Every appointment. Every scan.
I’m building the crib. I’m picking names.
What more do you want from me?”
“I want you to be AWAKE!” I yelled.
“I want you to be here when it happens!”
He turned around.
Eyes red.
“I was asleep, Zara.
People sleep.
I’m not perfect.”
“I never asked you to be perfect!”
I yelled.
“I asked you to be here!”
---
*3:50am.*
We both stopped.
Breathing hard.
The baby was probably so confused.
Adrian sank to the floor.
Put his head in his hands.
“I’m terrified,” he said.
Voice broken.
“I’m terrified I’m gonna fail.
That I’m gonna miss everything.
That I’m gonna be my dad.”
I walked over.
Sat on the floor next to him.
Didn’t touch him yet.
“You’re not him,” I said.
“I feel like him,” he said.
“When I miss things. When I’m late.
When I’m asleep and life is happening
and I’m not there for it.”
I took his hand.
He didn’t pull away.
“You’re here now,” I said.
“You woke up.
You’re listening.
That’s what matters.”
He looked at me.
Tears on his face.
“I don’t want to miss it, Zara.
Any of it. The kicks. The first words.
The first steps. I don’t want to miss any of it.”
“Then don’t,” I said.
“I’m not gonna let you.”
---
*4:05am.*
We were still on the floor.
I put his hand back on my stomach.
“Just wait,” I said.
“Maybe... maybe they’ll do it again.”
We waited.
In silence.
Foreheads together.
Nothing.
I sighed.
“Maybe they’re sleeping.”
“Maybe,” he said.
He didn’t move his hand.
10 minutes passed.
Then—
`flutter`
Adrian gasped.
“Was that—”
“Yes,” I whispered.
`flutter flutter`
His eyes went wide.
Like a kid on Christmas.
“Oh my god,” he whispered.
“Oh my god, Zara. That was them.”
He started laughing.
Crying and laughing.
“That’s our baby,” he said.
“Kicking me. Right now.”
He pressed his whole hand to me.
Like he could hold onto the feeling.
“Hi,” he whispered to my stomach.
“Hi, little C. It’s dad.
I’m so sorry I was asleep.
I won’t miss it again. I promise.”
`kick`
He sobbed.
“I felt that one! I felt that one!”
I was crying too.
Laughing through it.
“You did it,” I said.
“You didn’t miss it.”
He looked up at me.
Face wet.
Smiling so big.
“I didn’t miss it,” he said.
“Thank you for waking me up.”
I nodded.
“Thank you for staying awake.”
---
*4:30am.*
We never went back to bed.
We sat on the floor of our bedroom.
His hand on me.
Waiting for more kicks.
Getting them.
Every few minutes.
Little hellos.
Adrian talked to our baby the whole time.
About everything.
About nothing.
“Tell them about the time we met,” I said.
So he did.
About the contract.
About the gala.
About how I yelled at him.
“Tell them about the nursery,” I said.
So he did.
About the 3-legged crib.
About David.
About the extra screws.
“Tell them you love them,” I said.
So he did.
For 20 minutes straight.
“I love you,” he said to my stomach.
“I love your mom.
I’m gonna be here.
For everything.
I promise.”
I leaned my head on his shoulder.
“I believe you,” I said.
---
*7:00am. Sunrise.*
We were still up.
Still talking.
Still feeling kicks.
Adrian stood up.
Pulled me up with him.
Carried me to the shower.
Not for anything.
Just to hold me.
To wash my hair.
To take care of me.
“I’m sorry I yelled,” I said.
“I’m sorry I missed the first one,” he said.
“We’re okay,” I said.
“We’re okay,” he said.
---
*Later that day.*
He told David.
He told Eleanor.
He told the ultrasound photo.
He didn’t leave my side.
Not for one second.
Every time I felt a kick,
he put his hand there.
Even if he didn’t feel it.
He was there.
That night, before bed,
he wrote something on a sticky note.
Put it on the crib.
I found it later:
`To C:
Dad was here for your first kick.
He’ll be here for everything else.
Love, Dad`
---
- Writer
