The pictures of brooding Lake Victoria, from the rustic yet modern Kisumu Safari Camp in Kenya, do not do it justice. I hold Charles, my driven husband of four days, as we gaze out on the massive light blue lake. Ribbons of red and gold fill the sky from the sun setting on the distant shore. Images of the incredible animals we saw these last two days parade through my memory. Massive gray elephants trumpeting, towering giraffe seeming indifferent to our presence, zebra seeking safety in their speed and jackal prowling for any scraps of nourishment left by the big predators. Seeing them in a zoo and seeing them here… native habitat, has changed my thoughts about captivity. Animals deserve to be free… to roam and find their own way in the world.
I squeeze Charles a little tighter, still not believing we are finally married, and in this magnificent place… together. So many things conspired to make both the marriage and this trip impossible… and yet…
“The herds in the Serengeti will just dwarf what we’ve seen so far…” Charles, with his safari wind-blown brown hair, which usually seems perfectly combed, and mysterious dark eyes, leans down to kiss the top of my head. Not what I want. I take his unshaven face in my right hand and pull him down to give me a real kiss. One I share with him and not just receive.
“I don’t know when you found the time…” I start to respond, but he cuts me off.
“This will likely be the most time we have together until I finish my residency, so don’t get used to it.”
“I know what I signed up for…” I remind him. “Still, you could humor me a bit.”
“When the court’s in session, you don’t have any more time than I do… these are the lives we chose and now we’re putting them together. Not much room for safaris.”
“Now comes the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?” We talked a lot about the importance for us to be completely honest with each other, given the baggage we both bring to this relationship.
“We need to enjoy every moment…” Charles looks back out over the lake. “Red sky should mean no rain overnight.”
A good omen for the long trek, starting before daylight, to Tanzania and the next camp. I cannot wait for our first day in the game preserve of the Serengeti. The main reason we decided to come here in the first place. The big herds. Finally.
We hold each other as we watch the shimmering sun sink below the distant golden horizon. The sky transforms like a dive into the ocean from blue to navy and finally black. Stars increasingly populate the sky as if a lamplighter on steroids moved down a dusk street. I do not remember so many stars. Even the star belt of the Milky Way. So many images that informed my childhood are here. Before me and the man I chose to spend the rest of my life with. I still cannot believe he also chose me.
Charles squeezes me a little tighter seeking my attention. “You need to rest tonight?” He asks with a sparkle in his eye. One he displays every day, about this time, since the wedding back in Richmond. We both know our record will come to an end when he goes back to the hospital. But four days in a row, with multiple orgasms, has taken a toll.
“How about we ease into it tonight?” I suggest. Maybe a good glass of Pinotage will help with the proper frame of mind. As if we had not already had a bottle with dinner. I did not know much about South African wines before coming here, but am beginning to like them.
“Stud service at your beck and call…” Charles grins as we enter our tent. Not a typical tent, it rests on a permanent foundation with hot and cold running water, a heater for the colder nights, and a nook where we eat breakfast. M’bane, our guide, told us at dinner we would not eat here in the morning. They have a box breakfast for us on our transit Range Rover. Likely croissants and berry preserves, although quite different than those in Paris. Charles has never been. Some day. We will eat when we get hungry along the way. Thoughtful, since we leave in the middle of the night. I still adjust to this time zone. Eight hours earlier than Rochester, Minnesota, where Charles pursues his residency in neurosurgery at the Mayo Clinic. And seven from Washington DC where I clerk for the Chief Justice.
Charles pulls the tent flap closed behind us. I feel his eyes; engage him with my Mona Lisa smile… if you figure out what I am thinking, you get the prize.
Maybe it is the hour of our departure and the lack of sleep since we left, but Charles apparently decides he needs to move this process along. He pours two glasses of red wine, brings one to me. We smile at each other as we clink glasses, “To the perfect marriage. You and me. Your family and mine.”
I know what he suggests and must protest, “You know I don’t harbor ambitions. We want to appear to have a quiet family life. Anonymous.”
“You’ll never be anonymous now that you’re married to what will soon be the preeminent neurosurgeon in the world,” he laughs, knowing his coming prominence is not the source of my discomfort.
“Who I’ll never see as you cater to the rich and famous… or the poor and downtrodden,” we’ve had this conversation before.
Charles sips slowly, holds the wine in his mouth as he formulates his response. He continues to puzzle over something I first noticed yesterday. An embryonic thought, which I expect will not arrive fully formed. A swallow and, “Doctors without borders…”
“You need to prepare yourself they seldom do neurosurgery… How many hospitals in all of Kenya could support what you do?” I point out.
Charles shakes his head, not knowing. “But together we could do so much good…” Charles’ thinking remains a work in progress.
“I doubt you could just immunize, set broken bones, and provide medicines for one or another bad bug. I’m the one promoting we should do something more than just make money. But maybe you could give back by perfecting new techniques… and training docs throughout the world. I could do pro-bono legal work to address your need to make the world a better place.”
“Not the same… but maybe you’re right. Maybe it shouldn’t be only about what I do, but what we do together. Now that we are together… for the rest of our lives…”
“Has to be… for the rest of our lives. Don’t think I could go through all this again.” I remind him how tough it has been for me.
“I would in a heartbeat… you’re perfect, we’re perfect… what more could either of us want?”
“More of your time and attention, when we get back from this alternate reality…” I lay out there for him. We had this discussion before as well. Another slow sip of the ruby colored wine. A swirl in my mouth to extract the fruit flavors, savor and then taste the experience all the way down my throat.
We put down our glasses at the same time, so I may sensually begin to undress him. Slowly… one button at a time. Rub my hands lightly over his chest once the shirt is off. Inspect the hard muscle he continues to exercise, even though he gave up wrestling after undergrad. No time. He tries to match my pace, although I know he would rip off my clothes if I let him. Feel his response as I unzip his pants. We crawl up into the big king size brass bed with a mosquito net all about.
“This will work, because we both want it to…” Charles tells me as he snuggles up next to me.
I do not know how long we sleep. Not long. A vehicle drives into the camp. It wakes me. The motor shuts off and doors close with metallic thuds. “Charles…” I poke him, “I think the transport arrived.”
Charles does not open his eyes, but moves as if starting the process of waking up.
“Charles… we need to get dressed…” I pull the covers back and step out into the slippers we wear here as we never know what might have crawled in during the night. Charles does not react, so I lean over the bed and French kiss him, which seems to be the only thing that works.
“What?” he starts to rouse as I hear someone pull back the flap to our tent. No one has entered without asking first. Through the back-lit tent flap and in the dark, I count four shapes enter and come right up to me.
“We’re not ready yet…” I protest, reaching out, but fumbling about in the dark, trying to find the light switch.
Something comes down over my head. Rough hands begin to pull me away from the bed. “Let me go!”
“Hey! Where’s M’bane?” Charles must be getting the same treatment.
“M’bane… not here… you come.” I hear the voice, but do not recognize it. British accent, but not British. Someone who attended a British school, but speaks a different language.
A hushed discussion in a language I do not recognize. Two or three voices. They stop talking, start moving me towards the flap to the tent. “Where’s Charles?”
“I’m here,” he responds. He seems very close, but behind me.
“Who are you?” I demand to know. “If you’re taking us to Mwanza Camp, let us get dressed.”
Through the bag over my head, a hand covers my mouth. Rough hands hold me tighter, pull my hands behind my back. I feel something tie my wrists together. I am pushed hard thought the tent entrance. The slippers come off and I stumble as we descend the three steps down to the ground. I hear Charles stumble as well. A muffled attempt to shout. They must have a hand over his mouth.
We cross a short distance. They stop and turn us. Someone pushes me onto my back into what must be a vehicle of some kind. A pickup or a van… most likely. Not the Range Rover planned to take us to Mwanza. What’s happening?
David Treichler – A Tale of Two Tomorrows – Chapter One
Regina Malvado
Tears form in the corners of my husband Mark’s wide brown eyes. Tears of joy, of relief, of confusion and maybe… maybe a little regret that this time of our life is over. Those tears are expected. I now happily hold our twins in my arms as I lie here.Totally exhausted from the struggle to birth them through the hours of labor and delivery. Here in the cold and sterile delivery room of the Lenox Hill Hospital. Mark and I argued about where we wanted the birth to take place. He wanted St. Luke’s. I thought Presbyterian Morningside. We compromised on Lenox Hill, because it’s closest to our condo on West 77th.
“Both healthy,” he tells me. His gravelly voice serves as a counter point to his short stature. His active eyes take in everything. The inscrutable Dr. Ingraham voiced concern the babies seemed under-weight for much of the pregnancy. However, the birth weights are in line with normal for twins.
We saw we had two on the sonograms so many weeks ago. Knew one was a boy and the other a girl. Mark hoped for a supersized boy. One able to be the athlete he never was. I kept telling him to just love what we get. But for some reason, he thought we should be able to decide. Determine what we wanted. So like him. Always thinking he should get exactly what he wants.
“Take your son,” I offer the boy to give Mark something to occupy him, knowing if I don’t, he’ll be back on his phone to the office momentarily.
“What if I drop him?” Mark seems reluctant. “I’ve never held a baby before, not even my sister’s kids.”
Mark carefully takes the baby boy, examines him closely, kisses his forehead, while I continue to hold the girl, bring her fully onto my chest. Kiss the top of her head.
“Hello little guy, welcome to New York and your brilliant future,” Mark tells our son as he walks over closer to the window, looks out to the brick building across the alley, and then down to the street below. “This is your new world. With a little luck and a lot of help, this will be your domain.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. He will be what he will be. His life choices may not take him where you want him to go.” I try to lower Mark’s expectations.
“He will be someone important,” Mark replies, only half listening to me.
“We need to send the right messages about what he needs to do.What they both need to do. Just because you figured it out, doesn’t mean they will, automatically…”
Mark looks up at me with those sleep deprived red-lined penetrating brown eyes. They have always held my attention, captivated me, enticed me and ultimately won me. “Of course you’re right, but let’s not put all our expectations on them today. We need to let them enjoy their birth day as we will all their coming birthdays. Let them take their place in our family.”
“Particularly since I’m not doing this again,” I remind him of our many conversations before I conceived. Only one child. Well… luckily, we have two. The doctor said I shouldn’t have even one because of my chronic conditions. I seem to have come through in good shape. But I know I’m all out of whack. I must be on guard for post partem depression. My mother had it. The continuing depression almost destroyed our relationship. I can’t let that happen with our children.
Mark approaches the bed, leans over and kisses me, wordlessly acknowledging the deal we made. “We each have one to spoil… you should be happy.”
“I am, and not just because we have a bigger family,” I reach out to take his hand. “I’m happy with you, happy for your successes, happy we have a good life together.”
“I’m happy you came through this like a champ.” Mark smiles down with his tell-tale dimple showing. The one I see when he’s telling me how he really feels. I don’t see it often. Something that puts me on guard not to expect too much from my husband. “Do you remember your mother’s comment when we told her you were pregnant?” The dimple disappears.
“She freaked out,” I remember all too well. “Told us I needed to abort the pregnancy because I might not survive.”
Mark doesn’t respond, apparently unwilling to express whatever he’s thinking. Likely not wanting to upset me by saying anything bad about my mother. I know he’s not a fan. In fact, he waited a long time to propose, because he wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with her. I understand my mother’s no angel of sweetness and light. But it still bothers me he seems determined to diminish her as much as possible in our lives. Keep our distance from her. Will he do the same to her with her grandchildren? It will put a huge strain on me if he insists. I can’t simply tell her she is not permitted see them. She’ll want to spoil them, particularly the girl as she grows up. Mother often said she was disappointed she only had one girl. Rex and Raven, my brothers, always felt slighted by her lack of attention. I still think her attitude towards them served as motivation to succeed despite her. And it seems to have worked. Rex is an attorney with the US Justice Department and Raven trades sovereign debt for JP Morgan Chase bank.
“I know you’re not going to like it, but I’m going to hold you to our agreement that both families will have equal access to...”
He cuts me off abruptly as the nurses come in. “Just make sure your mother comes over when I’m at the office.”
“Time to take them down to the nursery,” the stern taller nurse announces as she comes for our daughter. The smiling heavier-set one, seeks our son from Mark. He doesn’t look quite ready to give up the baby just yet, but he complies with the smiling nurse’s outstretched hands.
I kiss our daughter on top of her head again. “Get you all cleaned up, with your first diaper. Soon they’ll bring you back for dinner,” I don’t want to see her go just yet, but the nurse seems impatient. She probably has a busy schedule and I’m just making her day longer. I look at my baby’s cute face and bright eyes. She looks at me, probably wondering who I am, why I’m looking at her and what this new world will be like. I smile at her, hoping for a smile in return, but it doesn’t come. Not yet. Must be too soon. The nurse clears her throat, so I reluctantly hand our baby girl to her.
I’m surprised the nurse taking our daughter doesn’t seem to engage the baby, but rather just carries her away like a stack of clothes from the laundry. The shorter smiling nurse looks at the boy, talks to him and makes sure he is settled before following the other nurse out. I watch them go, feeling a twinge of loss, having carried them for nine months and a few days to get here. Suddenly I’m not feeling them at all. Mark must feel something similar as he wistfully watches them go out the door.
“Enjoy our moment alone. It may be the last time for a very long time,” I smile up at him. He comes to sit next to me on the bedside.
“They’ll probably send you home tomorrow,” he notes. “There’s so much pressure to move patients out quickly. They want to control health care costs.”
“Always the analyst,” I remind him. “’What makes you so good at what you do.”
“You do have our mothers coming over on alternate days to help you until the nanny starts?” He’s already thinking past today’s birth day party.
“I suspect everyone waits outside the nursery window, for their first glimpse of their new grandchildren.” I warn him he will encounter my mother and father when he goes down.
“I think I’ll hang here just a little longer, talk to my gorgeous wife, who just gave us purpose and happiness as we embark into the great unknown future.” He leans down and kisses me a little more purposefully than last time.
“Coward,” I call him out, knowing he will engage Mom as necessary.
“I’m sure they’re not out just yet. I’d rather arrive afterwards and not deal with your mother’s comments until she’s seen them. Maybe… just maybe… seeing them will make it all more pleasant.”
“Leave your phone so you don’t call in and get caught up with work,” I insist. “They really can get through a day without you there or on the phone. This is the only actual birth day party we’re going to celebrate. So, let’s enjoy it. The office will still be there tomorrow.”
“All right,” he grudgingly pulls out his cell and hands it to me, leans over and kisses me again. “So much for our time alone.” He shakes his head as he trundles out the door.
My eyes close as if weights pull them shut. I didn’t get much sleep once the labor pains started. I really need to rest. I hear the scuttling sounds of a nurse. He checks my vitals, disconnects everything to move me down to my room. The orderly arrives and pushes me out so the delivery room can be turned around for the next about-to-be mother.
I ride on the bed with my eyes closed, wishing for a short nap. The nurses will be back soon with the babies. It will be time to feed them. I was prepared for nursing one, but two? At the same time or do we do it in shifts? I don’t know, but the nurses will tell me.
The orderly remarks, “Here we are. Will just take a moment and we’ll have you all hooked up so you can rest for a bit.”
“I appreciate it,” I mumble, not sure I’m even intelligible to him.
A very young nurse, looks about twelve, joins the orderly. Together they efficiently finish preparing the room. She makes sure I am warm under blankets. A quick inspection of my vitals. I hear her enter them.
The nurse comes over and touches me on the shoulder, “You have about a half hour before they bring in your babies. It’s a good time to rest. Do you want anything to eat? I could bring you Jell-O or maybe some rice. Something to settle your stomach?”
I shake my head, “I’m just tired now.” My eyes don’t even open.
Fast approaching footsteps pull me out of my, I think, very short nap.
“Reggie!” It’s Mark’s voice. He’s stressed and out of breath.
“Wha…” I’m trying to get my eyes open, but struggling.
“Our daughter... The nurse never brought her down to the nursery… they can’t find her… don’t know where she was taken.”
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David Treichler THE HONEYMOON Chapter One
ANNIE THOMPSON
The pictures of brooding Lake Victoria, from the rustic yet modern Kisumu Safari Camp in Kenya, do not do it justice. I hold Charles, my driven husband of four days, as we gaze out on the massive light blue lake. Ribbons of red and gold fill the sky from the sun setting on the distant shore. Images of the incredible animals we saw these last two days parade through my memory. Massive gray elephants trumpeting, towering giraffe seeming indifferent to our presence, zebra seeking safety in their speed and jackal prowling for any scraps of nourishment left by the big predators. Seeing them in a zoo and seeing them here… native habitat, has changed my thoughts about captivity. Animals deserve to be free… to roam and find their own way in the world.
I squeeze Charles a little tighter, still not believing we are finally married, and in this magnificent place… together. So many things conspired to make both the marriage and this trip impossible… and yet…
“The herds in the Serengeti will just dwarf what we’ve seen so far…” Charles, with his safari wind-blown brown hair, which usually seems perfectly combed, and mysterious dark eyes, leans down to kiss the top of my head. Not what I want. I take his unshaven face in my right hand and pull him down to give me a real kiss. One I share with him and not just receive.
“I don’t know when you found the time…” I start to respond, but he cuts me off.
“This will likely be the most time we have together until I finish my residency, so don’t get used to it.”
“I know what I signed up for…” I remind him. “Still, you could humor me a bit.”
“When the court’s in session, you don’t have any more time than I do… these are the lives we chose and now we’re putting them together. Not much room for safaris.”
“Now comes the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?” We talked a lot about the importance for us to be completely honest with each other, given the baggage we both bring to this relationship.
“We need to enjoy every moment…” Charles looks back out over the lake. “Red sky should mean no rain overnight.”
A good omen for the long trek, starting before daylight, to Tanzania and the next camp. I cannot wait for our first day in the game preserve of the Serengeti. The main reason we decided to come here in the first place. The big herds. Finally.
We hold each other as we watch the shimmering sun sink below the distant golden horizon. The sky transforms like a dive into the ocean from blue to navy and finally black. Stars increasingly populate the sky as if a lamplighter on steroids moved down a dusk street. I do not remember so many stars. Even the star belt of the Milky Way. So many images that informed my childhood are here. Before me and the man I chose to spend the rest of my life with. I still cannot believe he also chose me.
Charles squeezes me a little tighter seeking my attention. “You need to rest tonight?” He asks with a sparkle in his eye. One he displays every day, about this time, since the wedding back in Richmond. We both know our record will come to an end when he goes back to the hospital. But four days in a row, with multiple orgasms, has taken a toll.
“How about we ease into it tonight?” I suggest. Maybe a good glass of Pinotage will help with the proper frame of mind. As if we had not already had a bottle with dinner. I did not know much about South African wines before coming here, but am beginning to like them.
“Stud service at your beck and call…” Charles grins as we enter our tent. Not a typical tent, it rests on a permanent foundation with hot and cold running water, a heater for the colder nights, and a nook where we eat breakfast. M’bane, our guide, told us at dinner we would not eat here in the morning. They have a box breakfast for us on our transit Range Rover. Likely croissants and berry preserves, although quite different than those in Paris. Charles has never been. Some day. We will eat when we get hungry along the way. Thoughtful, since we leave in the middle of the night. I still adjust to this time zone. Eight hours earlier than Rochester, Minnesota, where Charles pursues his residency in neurosurgery at the Mayo Clinic. And seven from Washington DC where I clerk for the Chief Justice.
Charles pulls the tent flap closed behind us. I feel his eyes; engage him with my Mona Lisa smile… if you figure out what I am thinking, you get the prize.
Maybe it is the hour of our departure and the lack of sleep since we left, but Charles apparently decides he needs to move this process along. He pours two glasses of red wine, brings one to me. We smile at each other as we clink glasses, “To the perfect marriage. You and me. Your family and mine.”
I know what he suggests and must protest, “You know I don’t harbor ambitions. We want to appear to have a quiet family life. Anonymous.”
“You’ll never be anonymous now that you’re married to what will soon be the preeminent neurosurgeon in the world,” he laughs, knowing his coming prominence is not the source of my discomfort.
“Who I’ll never see as you cater to the rich and famous… or the poor and downtrodden,” we’ve had this conversation before.
Charles sips slowly, holds the wine in his mouth as he formulates his response. He continues to puzzle over something I first noticed yesterday. An embryonic thought, which I expect will not arrive fully formed. A swallow and, “Doctors without borders…”
“You need to prepare yourself they seldom do neurosurgery… How many hospitals in all of Kenya could support what you do?” I point out.
Charles shakes his head, not knowing. “But together we could do so much good…” Charles’ thinking remains a work in progress.
“I doubt you could just immunize, set broken bones, and provide medicines for one or another bad bug. I’m the one promoting we should do something more than just make money. But maybe you could give back by perfecting new techniques… and training docs throughout the world. I could do pro-bono legal work to address your need to make the world a better place.”
“Not the same… but maybe you’re right. Maybe it shouldn’t be only about what I do, but what we do together. Now that we are together… for the rest of our lives…”
“Has to be… for the rest of our lives. Don’t think I could go through all this again.” I remind him how tough it has been for me.
“I would in a heartbeat… you’re perfect, we’re perfect… what more could either of us want?”
“More of your time and attention, when we get back from this alternate reality…” I lay out there for him. We had this discussion before as well. Another slow sip of the ruby colored wine. A swirl in my mouth to extract the fruit flavors, savor and then taste the experience all the way down my throat.
We put down our glasses at the same time, so I may sensually begin to undress him. Slowly… one button at a time. Rub my hands lightly over his chest once the shirt is off. Inspect the hard muscle he continues to exercise, even though he gave up wrestling after undergrad. No time. He tries to match my pace, although I know he would rip off my clothes if I let him. Feel his response as I unzip his pants. We crawl up into the big king size brass bed with a mosquito net all about.
“This will work, because we both want it to…” Charles tells me as he snuggles up next to me.
I do not know how long we sleep. Not long. A vehicle drives into the camp. It wakes me. The motor shuts off and doors close with metallic thuds. “Charles…” I poke him, “I think the transport arrived.”
Charles does not open his eyes, but moves as if starting the process of waking up.
“Charles… we need to get dressed…” I pull the covers back and step out into the slippers we wear here as we never know what might have crawled in during the night. Charles does not react, so I lean over the bed and French kiss him, which seems to be the only thing that works.
“What?” he starts to rouse as I hear someone pull back the flap to our tent. No one has entered without asking first. Through the back-lit tent flap and in the dark, I count four shapes enter and come right up to me.
“We’re not ready yet…” I protest, reaching out, but fumbling about in the dark, trying to find the light switch.
Something comes down over my head. Rough hands begin to pull me away from the bed. “Let me go!”
“Hey! Where’s M’bane?” Charles must be getting the same treatment.
“M’bane… not here… you come.” I hear the voice, but do not recognize it. British accent, but not British. Someone who attended a British school, but speaks a different language.
A hushed discussion in a language I do not recognize. Two or three voices. They stop talking, start moving me towards the flap to the tent. “Where’s Charles?”
“I’m here,” he responds. He seems very close, but behind me.
“Who are you?” I demand to know. “If you’re taking us to Mwanza Camp, let us get dressed.”
Through the bag over my head, a hand covers my mouth. Rough hands hold me tighter, pull my hands behind my back. I feel something tie my wrists together. I am pushed hard thought the tent entrance. The slippers come off and I stumble as we descend the three steps down to the ground. I hear Charles stumble as well. A muffled attempt to shout. They must have a hand over his mouth.
We cross a short distance. They stop and turn us. Someone pushes me onto my back into what must be a vehicle of some kind. A pickup or a van… most likely. Not the Range Rover planned to take us to Mwanza. What’s happening?
David Treichler – A Tale of Two Tomorrows – Chapter One
Regina Malvado
Tears form in the corners of my husband Mark’s wide brown eyes. Tears of joy, of relief, of confusion and maybe… maybe a little regret that this time of our life is over. Those tears are expected. I now happily hold our twins in my arms as I lie here. Totally exhausted from the struggle to birth them through the hours of labor and delivery. Here in the cold and sterile delivery room of the Lenox Hill Hospital. Mark and I argued about where we wanted the birth to take place. He wanted St. Luke’s. I thought Presbyterian Morningside. We compromised on Lenox Hill, because it’s closest to our condo on West 77th.
“Both healthy,” he tells me. His gravelly voice serves as a counter point to his short stature. His active eyes take in everything. The inscrutable Dr. Ingraham voiced concern the babies seemed under-weight for much of the pregnancy. However, the birth weights are in line with normal for twins.
We saw we had two on the sonograms so many weeks ago. Knew one was a boy and the other a girl. Mark hoped for a supersized boy. One able to be the athlete he never was. I kept telling him to just love what we get. But for some reason, he thought we should be able to decide. Determine what we wanted. So like him. Always thinking he should get exactly what he wants.
“Take your son,” I offer the boy to give Mark something to occupy him, knowing if I don’t, he’ll be back on his phone to the office momentarily.
“What if I drop him?” Mark seems reluctant. “I’ve never held a baby before, not even my sister’s kids.”
Mark carefully takes the baby boy, examines him closely, kisses his forehead, while I continue to hold the girl, bring her fully onto my chest. Kiss the top of her head.
“Hello little guy, welcome to New York and your brilliant future,” Mark tells our son as he walks over closer to the window, looks out to the brick building across the alley, and then down to the street below. “This is your new world. With a little luck and a lot of help, this will be your domain.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. He will be what he will be. His life choices may not take him where you want him to go.” I try to lower Mark’s expectations.
“He will be someone important,” Mark replies, only half listening to me.
“We need to send the right messages about what he needs to do. What they both need to do. Just because you figured it out, doesn’t mean they will, automatically…”
Mark looks up at me with those sleep deprived red-lined penetrating brown eyes. They have always held my attention, captivated me, enticed me and ultimately won me. “Of course you’re right, but let’s not put all our expectations on them today. We need to let them enjoy their birth day as we will all their coming birthdays. Let them take their place in our family.”
“Particularly since I’m not doing this again,” I remind him of our many conversations before I conceived. Only one child. Well… luckily, we have two. The doctor said I shouldn’t have even one because of my chronic conditions. I seem to have come through in good shape. But I know I’m all out of whack. I must be on guard for post partem depression. My mother had it. The continuing depression almost destroyed our relationship. I can’t let that happen with our children.
Mark approaches the bed, leans over and kisses me, wordlessly acknowledging the deal we made. “We each have one to spoil… you should be happy.”
“I am, and not just because we have a bigger family,” I reach out to take his hand. “I’m happy with you, happy for your successes, happy we have a good life together.”
“I’m happy you came through this like a champ.” Mark smiles down with his tell-tale dimple showing. The one I see when he’s telling me how he really feels. I don’t see it often. Something that puts me on guard not to expect too much from my husband. “Do you remember your mother’s comment when we told her you were pregnant?” The dimple disappears.
“She freaked out,” I remember all too well. “Told us I needed to abort the pregnancy because I might not survive.”
Mark doesn’t respond, apparently unwilling to express whatever he’s thinking. Likely not wanting to upset me by saying anything bad about my mother. I know he’s not a fan. In fact, he waited a long time to propose, because he wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with her. I understand my mother’s no angel of sweetness and light. But it still bothers me he seems determined to diminish her as much as possible in our lives. Keep our distance from her. Will he do the same to her with her grandchildren? It will put a huge strain on me if he insists. I can’t simply tell her she is not permitted see them. She’ll want to spoil them, particularly the girl as she grows up. Mother often said she was disappointed she only had one girl. Rex and Raven, my brothers, always felt slighted by her lack of attention. I still think her attitude towards them served as motivation to succeed despite her. And it seems to have worked. Rex is an attorney with the US Justice Department and Raven trades sovereign debt for JP Morgan Chase bank.
“I know you’re not going to like it, but I’m going to hold you to our agreement that both families will have equal access to...”
He cuts me off abruptly as the nurses come in. “Just make sure your mother comes over when I’m at the office.”
“Time to take them down to the nursery,” the stern taller nurse announces as she comes for our daughter. The smiling heavier-set one, seeks our son from Mark. He doesn’t look quite ready to give up the baby just yet, but he complies with the smiling nurse’s outstretched hands.
I kiss our daughter on top of her head again. “Get you all cleaned up, with your first diaper. Soon they’ll bring you back for dinner,” I don’t want to see her go just yet, but the nurse seems impatient. She probably has a busy schedule and I’m just making her day longer. I look at my baby’s cute face and bright eyes. She looks at me, probably wondering who I am, why I’m looking at her and what this new world will be like. I smile at her, hoping for a smile in return, but it doesn’t come. Not yet. Must be too soon. The nurse clears her throat, so I reluctantly hand our baby girl to her.
I’m surprised the nurse taking our daughter doesn’t seem to engage the baby, but rather just carries her away like a stack of clothes from the laundry. The shorter smiling nurse looks at the boy, talks to him and makes sure he is settled before following the other nurse out. I watch them go, feeling a twinge of loss, having carried them for nine months and a few days to get here. Suddenly I’m not feeling them at all. Mark must feel something similar as he wistfully watches them go out the door.
“Enjoy our moment alone. It may be the last time for a very long time,” I smile up at him. He comes to sit next to me on the bedside.
“They’ll probably send you home tomorrow,” he notes. “There’s so much pressure to move patients out quickly. They want to control health care costs.”
“Always the analyst,” I remind him. “’What makes you so good at what you do.”
“You do have our mothers coming over on alternate days to help you until the nanny starts?” He’s already thinking past today’s birth day party.
“I suspect everyone waits outside the nursery window, for their first glimpse of their new grandchildren.” I warn him he will encounter my mother and father when he goes down.
“I think I’ll hang here just a little longer, talk to my gorgeous wife, who just gave us purpose and happiness as we embark into the great unknown future.” He leans down and kisses me a little more purposefully than last time.
“Coward,” I call him out, knowing he will engage Mom as necessary.
“I’m sure they’re not out just yet. I’d rather arrive afterwards and not deal with your mother’s comments until she’s seen them. Maybe… just maybe… seeing them will make it all more pleasant.”
“Leave your phone so you don’t call in and get caught up with work,” I insist. “They really can get through a day without you there or on the phone. This is the only actual birth day party we’re going to celebrate. So, let’s enjoy it. The office will still be there tomorrow.”
“All right,” he grudgingly pulls out his cell and hands it to me, leans over and kisses me again. “So much for our time alone.” He shakes his head as he trundles out the door.
My eyes close as if weights pull them shut. I didn’t get much sleep once the labor pains started. I really need to rest. I hear the scuttling sounds of a nurse. He checks my vitals, disconnects everything to move me down to my room. The orderly arrives and pushes me out so the delivery room can be turned around for the next about-to-be mother.
I ride on the bed with my eyes closed, wishing for a short nap. The nurses will be back soon with the babies. It will be time to feed them. I was prepared for nursing one, but two? At the same time or do we do it in shifts? I don’t know, but the nurses will tell me.
The orderly remarks, “Here we are. Will just take a moment and we’ll have you all hooked up so you can rest for a bit.”
“I appreciate it,” I mumble, not sure I’m even intelligible to him.
A very young nurse, looks about twelve, joins the orderly. Together they efficiently finish preparing the room. She makes sure I am warm under blankets. A quick inspection of my vitals. I hear her enter them.
The nurse comes over and touches me on the shoulder, “You have about a half hour before they bring in your babies. It’s a good time to rest. Do you want anything to eat? I could bring you Jell-O or maybe some rice. Something to settle your stomach?”
I shake my head, “I’m just tired now.” My eyes don’t even open.
Fast approaching footsteps pull me out of my, I think, very short nap.
“Reggie!” It’s Mark’s voice. He’s stressed and out of breath.
“Wha…” I’m trying to get my eyes open, but struggling.
“Our daughter... The nurse never brought her down to the nursery… they can’t find her… don’t know where she was taken.”