Chapter 38 #2
I laughed and swatted him. I felt giddy. Young. Carefree. It was so opposite of how I’d felt for the last five months that it made me dizzy. It made no sense that I should have found someone like Marc in the middle of all this, but I had, and I was so grateful.
“She sounds great,” I said, playing along.
He lifted the mug to his lips, and just before he took a sip, winked and said, “She is.”
I watched him drink his coffee, smiling so wide my cheeks hurt and so satisfied just to be in his presence that I couldn’t come up with a single thing to say. It was like I’d reached the ultimate state of Zen.
Marc stared back at me, drinking his coffee, apparently as content as I was to just be together because he didn’t say anything either. He couldn’t stop grinning, and I felt like I was glowing. We were that enamored with one another.
The spell was broken too soon.
“Yo, Ramirez!” a deep voice yelled from the other room. “You in here?”
“Shit.” Marc glanced toward the front of the kitchen. “Meet me tonight?”
“Of course,” I said in a low voice.
He smiled, his focus on me as he called, “Be right there!” Marc took another look around, planted a quick kiss on my lips, and whispered, “I can’t wait.”
Then he was off, hurrying through the kitchen and disappearing without a backward glance.
“Where you been, man?” the soldier who’d called to him asked a few seconds later.
“Getting some coffee,” Marc replied. “You know the stuff on our side tastes like shit.”
“I hear that,” came the response.
The man kept talking, but he and Marc were headed out of the dining room, and his voice grew quieter until I was unable to make out the words. Not that it mattered. All I’d needed to hear was that Marc wanted to meet again tonight. I couldn’t wait.
After finishing in the kitchen, I headed back to the third floor. I wasn’t overly concerned about Bette’s absence since I knew how tired she’d been and it was totally possible she’d decided to sleep in, but since her due date was just two weeks away, I wanted to check on her.
Apparently, I’d been more worried than even I’d known because when the doorknob turned a few seconds after I knocked, I let out a sigh of relief. Confusion quickly replaced my relief, though, when the door opened to reveal Hilary and not Bette.
“Miss Murphy,” my minder said when she saw me, her mouth, as usual, pressed into a displeased line.
I tried to look past her into the room, but she’d only opened the door a crack and was blocking my view.
“Is Bette okay?”
“She and the baby are resting,” Hilary said in a tone that made it clear I wasn’t going to be admitted.
Despite my minder’s chilly attitude, I smiled. Bette’s baby had arrived. It was shocking how thrilled I was since I wasn’t a baby person and the idea of having to go through that myself was repulsive, but also not surprising because I knew how much my friend had wanted this.
“Is she okay?” I blinked when tears of happiness filled my eyes. “How’s the baby?”
“They’re both perfect, of course,” Hilary snapped. “The Department of Fertility has done everything in their power to ensure that.”
Did she really have to throw this propaganda bullshit in my face now?
Not wanting to get into yet another altercation with this woman, I ignored the comment and asked, “Can I see her?”
Hilary’s entire body stiffened. “They’re resting. I already said that.”
I rolled my eyes. This woman was seriously too much.
“Fine. I’ll come back later.”
“You should give them some privacy, Miss Murphy. It’s been a long ordeal, and I’m sure Mrs. Billings would appreciate the time to rest and get to know her son without you breathing down her neck.”
I was breathing down Bette’s neck? Hilary was even more delusional than I thought.
Since there was no point in arguing, I said, “Okay.”
Hilary gave me a plastic smile that didn’t touch her brown eyes.
I turned away, determined to come back in a few hours or tomorrow at the latest. Hilary wouldn’t be there all the time, and once she was gone, Bette could choose whether or not to answer the door when I knocked and if she wanted me to come in.
She was an adult, after all. Regardless of how Hilary treated her.
It was nearing dinner when I knocked on Bette’s door for the third time that day.
The hall was pretty clear since most people were already making their way to the dining room, and I thought there would be a pretty good chance that Hilary would be doing the same.
I didn’t want to overwhelm Bette or crowd her if she did want to be alone, but I also knew she might need support from someone other than an overbearing, propaganda spouting bitch.
After knocking, I waited patiently, knowing that if Bette was in the middle of something – like feeding the baby or changing a diaper – it might take a few minutes for her to answer.
Quiet conversation and the shuffle of footsteps as women headed downstairs filled the silence as the seconds ticked by, and I glanced at my wristband.
Dinner was in five minutes, and I was supposed to meet Marc on the fourth floor in a little over an hour, which didn’t give me a lot of time to eat if Bette did answer the door.
But I’d make do. Even if I had to skip dinner, it would be worth it.
After nearly a minute, I’d almost given up when the click of the lock being disengaged sounded and the door was pulled open.
“Ara,” a very exhausted but happy looking Bette said, “I’m so glad to see you.”
She opened the door wider, motioning for me to enter, and I stepped into the room.
“Congratulations,” I said, giving her a gentle hug just in case she was sore or something from delivery. “I came by earlier, but Hilary wouldn’t let me in.”
“She was here most of the day.” Bette rolled her eyes when I released her. “I was so glad when she finally left. Seriously, the woman wouldn’t stop hovering. I mean, I know she misses her son, but it was too much.”
And Hilary had implied that I would be in the way.
My friend’s face broke into a huge grin “Come meet my son!”
She waved to the other side of the room where a portable crib had been set up.
Next to it was a rolling cart stacked with bags of diapers, tubs of wipes, and piles of burp cloths and blankets and clothes.
There were more items on the floor, and they’d even brought in a rocking chair.
It was like the place had been converted into a baby store since the last time I was here.
“Wow,” I said, waving to the items as I followed her across the room, “they really stocked the place.”
“It’s not exactly like the nursery I designed back home, but it’s good enough,” Bette said. “At least Warren is healthy. That’s the most important thing.”
“Warren?”
I hadn’t thought to ask what she was planning to name the baby and was surprised by the choice. It sounded so mature.
“It’s Walter’s father’s name.” Bette gave an unconcerned shrug. “It’s fine but wouldn’t have been my first choice.”
“What would have?” I asked.
“His middle name,” Bette replied. “Alexander.”
That was much better.
“You can always call him that,” I said. “I know people who go by their middle names.”
Bette was smiling when we reached the crib, her focus on the bundle inside. “Maybe I will.”
She bent and scooped her son into her arms, and I leaned forward. It was strange how excited I was to meet Warren, but I was. I was even more surprised by the wave of awe that swept through me when I saw his perfect little pink face peeking out from the blanket bundled around him.
“He’s beautiful, Bette,” I said, tearing up.
“He is, isn’t he?” She stared at him in awe for a few seconds before lifting her gaze to me. “Do you want to hold him?”
“Um…” I’d never held a baby before, so I wasn’t sure.
“You have to hold him.” Bette gestured to the chair that had recently been brought in. “Sit in the rocker.”
I obeyed, taking a seat in the rocking chair then holding my arms out so she could pass the baby to me. He was so tiny, so light, yet his existence was such a miracle. It almost made me understand why the powers that be had brought us here. Almost, because I was still being held against my will.
Bette stifled a yawn, causing me to look up from her son.
“How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” she said, “and a little sore, but not bad. Labor was fast, thankfully, and they gave me drugs. Thank God.”
That was something I hadn’t even thought about, mainly because I didn’t want to focus on anything that had to do with being pregnant or giving birth. It was a relief to hear, however, that when it was my turn, I would be able to take something for the pain.
The baby made a little noise that reminded me of a kitten, and I looked down to find his mouth scrunched up. I was afraid he was going to start crying, so I stiffened, but after a sigh of contentment, his face once again relaxed.
“He’s such a – ” Bette began, but her words were cut off by a phone ringing.
Surprised, I looked up, then watched as Bette crossed to the bedside table. A phone sat on top of it. Where had that come from, and did that mean she was able to make phone calls?
When she’d picked up the receiver, she held it to her ear and said, “Hello?”
Whoever was on the other line must have been talking, and apparently my friend wasn’t thrilled by whatever they were saying, because she pressed her lips together as she listened, an expression of irritation on her face.
“I’m fine, Hilary,” she said after a few seconds. “I don’t need you to babysit me.”
Hilary. No wonder Bette looked annoyed.
The conversation, which consisted of Hilary doing most of the talking, went on for another minute or so before Bette said goodbye and hung up.
She grimaced as she walked back to me. “She’s bringing me dinner.”
“I better head out, then. She’ll give both of us a lecture if she finds me here.” I stood, eased the baby into Bette’s arms, then nodded to the phone. “When did you get that?”
“After I gave birth,” she said, bouncing her son gently. “It doesn’t call outside the hotel. Just Hilary or the doctor if I need something.”
“Oh,” I said, disappointed but not surprised. “Did they at least let you talk to your husband?”
Bette’s lips formed an unhappy scowl. “No, but Hilary swears that’s coming. I don’t know if I believe her.”
“What about going home?” I asked. “Did they say anything about that?”
“She says they’re still waiting for the Department of Fertility to finalize guidelines and that whatever happens, I should know that they have my best interest in mind.”
God, this woman sucked.
“Well,” I said, “I know you want it to happen, so I hope it does.”
“Me too,” she murmured.
I stared at Warren for a few more seconds, taking in his serene expression and pink lips, and his perfect little nose. He was so precious. A gift.
“Congrats again, Bette. I’m really happy for you.”
My friend smiled but didn’t look away from her baby. “Thank you. And thanks for coming to see us.”
“Of course,” I said. “We’re friends. Hell, you’re my only real friend here.”
It was a lie but only a white one.
This time when Bette smiled, she looked at me. “I’m glad I got to know you, Ara.”
“Me, too,” I said, and the statement was completely true.