Mommy Tracked (9 page)

“Hey, sweetie, is everything okay?” Grace asked brightly, touching Chloe’s elbow. She was panting slightly from the exertion of dancing. “Do you need anything?”

Chloe turned to Grace, relieved at having help and yet mortified at what she would have to confess.

“I, um, I…oh, Grace, I’m so sorry. I think I just…I might have…wet my pants,” Chloe said, her voice dropping to a faint, mortified whisper.

“You what?” Grace asked, leaning in to hear. Her face knit with concern.

And that’s when the pain hit her. It started in her back, low and sharp, and was so intense she couldn’t speak. The throbbing ache spread until it felt like it was tunneling through her, coring her from the inside out. Chloe heard someone groan and only belatedly realized that it was her.

“Oh, my God! Are you going into labor?” Grace asked loudly, her voice carrying across the pool over the strains of “Dancing Queen.”

As the pain faded away, Chloe opened her eyes and was mortified to see that everyone had suddenly gone quiet and turned to stare at her. It was like those old E. F. Hutton commercials, only way,
way
more embarrassing. White-faced, Chloe turned to Grace, although she was too mortified to speak.

Grace reached out and patted Chloe’s arm. “Everything’s going to be fine,” she said gently. “I’ll go get James and find someone to drive you to the hospital. You just rest here.”

“I’ll take her,” Juliet said, stepping forward.

“Great,” Grace said.

“But…but…” Chloe said, thinking,
No, not Juliet! Couldn’t someone less scary take me?

Grace moved away through the now-quiet crowd, making her way across the patio to where James—apparently one of the only people who hadn’t clued in to the fact that something was going on—was waving his beer bottle around, as he recounted another story to the group of men he was hanging out with. All of them hooted with laughter, James’s the loudest of all. Grace whispered something in James’s ear, and he turned sharply, the smile sliding from his face as his eyes searched for Chloe.

“Are you sure? Where is she?” James asked, his worried voice carrying loudly.

It was only then that it distantly occurred to Chloe that she hadn’t actually peed in her pants. Her water had broken, which meant that Baby was on his—or her—way.

Chloe had thought this moment would be joyous and awe-inspiring. After all, her baby was coming! Finally! Instead, a cold terror gripped her, mushrooming in her chest.

I have to get away
, she thought desperately.
I have to get away from all of this. Away from the party, away from James, away from Baby, away from the pain. Oh, God, I can’t do this.

And then another wave of nauseating agony hit her, and Chloe bent forward, closing her eyes against the pain.

“I’m preregistered,” Chloe said, as James wheeled her into the hospital elevator. “Just take me right up to L and D. It’s on the third floor.”

James didn’t move, so Chloe reached up from her wheelchair and hit the number three button.

“Are you okay?” she asked James.

Since James had been too drunk to drive, Juliet had driven them to the hospital. To Chloe’s immense relief, Anna was coming too, although she’d driven separately in Chloe’s little Jetta. Juliet was now out parking the car, and from the herky-jerky way James was pushing the wheelchair, Chloe was hoping she wouldn’t take too long.

“What’s L and D?” James asked hoarsely. He was swaying very slightly from side to side.

“Labor and Delivery,” Chloe said through clenched teeth. She wanted to stay upbeat, wanted this to be the happy occasion she’d always dreamed it would be, despite the drunken husband…and the gut-wrenching pain…and her suspicion that even if women had been giving birth since the beginning of humanity, she, in fact, would not be able to do it. In fact, it was less of a suspicion than a strong, scary certainty.

“Oh, yeah. Right.” James’s voice sounded faint, and when Chloe glanced back up at him, she saw that his face had a sickly greenish cast to it.

“You’re not going to throw up, are you?” she asked.

James pressed his lips together and shook his head. But then the elevator started to move, and he moaned. When the doors opened with a
ding
on the third floor, James sprinted off the elevator—leaving Chloe behind—and practically threw himself through the door of the men’s room. Chloe stared after him, wondering,
Did he really just leave me here, by myself, on a freaking elevator, while I’m in labor?

Chloe wheeled herself out—which took more effort than she would have thought, especially to get the chair to start rolling—and maneuvered herself over to the nurse’s station. She could just see over the counter, where a nurse was standing, reading a file.

“Um, excuse me?” she said. The nurse didn’t seem to notice her. “Hello?”

Another wave of pain flooded through her as another contraction started up. Chloe squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the arms of the wheelchair, waiting for it to pass. They were getting worse—more intense, more painful. She didn’t know how much more of this she could take. Certainly not
hours
; she wasn’t even sure she could last another five minutes.

The elevator doors opened with another
ding
, and Juliet came striding out, her long hair streaming behind her, looking like she was ready to take on the world. Chloe had never been so happy to see anyone in her life.

“What’s going on? Where did James go?” Juliet asked, rattling off questions Chloe didn’t have a chance to answer. “Why are you just sitting here? Hasn’t anyone helped you? Excuse me, there’s a woman in labor here. Could somebody please help us?”

Chloe was breathless as the contraction passed.

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” the nurse behind the counter said without looking up.

“I don’t know if you heard me, but this woman is in labor,” Juliet said, raising her voice.

“I did hear you. And I’ll be with you in a minute,” the nurse said in an artificially sweet voice.

“Oh, okay. We’ll just wait,” Juliet said. “And if my client ends up giving birth right here at the nurses’ station, I guess
you
can be the one to explain all about how
you
were too busy with
your
file there to give her the medical attention she is so clearly in need of.”

“Your client?” the nurse asked, frowning now.

“That’s right. I’m her lawyer,” Juliet said crisply.

Chloe looked up admiringly at Juliet. Usually, she despised conflict in any form, but now she was just grateful to have someone with her who was willing to take control of the situation. And Juliet, standing with her hands on her hips and looking like she was ready to wrestle the nurse to the ground if necessary, was incredibly comforting.

The nurse sighed and, rolling her eyes, asked pointedly, “May I help you?”

“Hello? Woman. In labor,” Juliet said, pointing to Chloe.

“I preregistered,” Chloe offered.

“What’s your name?” the nurse asked.

“Chloe Truman.”

The nurse began to type, pausing every few moments to stare at the computer screen. Juliet tapped her foot impatiently, still bristling with irritation at the delay.

“Right, here you are. Have you started having contractions?”

“Yes. And my water broke, about forty minutes ago,” Chloe said.

Oh, my God, I’m going to have a baby
, she thought, with a fresh wave of terror. It was all so…surreal. That was the only word for it. When she left the hospital again, she was going to be a mother. A
mother
.

The elevator doors opened again, and Anna hurried out, her heels tap-tapping against the hard floor.

“Juliet! Chloe! I’m here,” Anna said unnecessarily, as she hurried up to them. “Oh, good. The baby’s still in there. I’m not late, then.”

“That’s a first,” Juliet said dryly.

But Chloe hardly registered Anna’s arrival.
I’ve changed my mind. I’m not ready for this.
Chloe looked around, hoping to find an escape route. A bright exit sign was lit up at the end of the corridor, and she wondered if she could make a break for it.

“I’m going to put you back in one of the exam rooms, where the on-call nurse will take your stats and get some information from you,” the nurse said. She came out from behind the counter and began to push Chloe’s chair firmly down the hall, in the opposite direction from the exit she’d considered dashing for. Not that she’d have gotten very far. Pregnant women aren’t exactly built for speed.

I want my mother
, Chloe suddenly thought, the need pinching at her so sharply, tears began to sting in her eyes.

“Can someone tell my husband where I’ve gone? He’s in the restroom back there,” Chloe said, nodding toward the men’s room James had disappeared into. There was a loud retching sound from inside.

“Is he okay?” Anna asked, walking along next to the wheelchair.

“I think he had a lot to drink,” Chloe said, glancing back worriedly. “That might have been him being sick.”

“Thank God he didn’t puke in my car,” Juliet said.

The nurse rolled them into the examination room. “Here’s a robe. Take everything off, and hop up on the table there,” she said.

“Hop?” Chloe repeated. The idea that she, in her current state, was going to hop anywhere was ludicrous.

“Is there someone else you want me to call? Your parents?” Anna asked supportively.

Chloe shook her head. “They’re in Austin,” she said, swallowing hard so Juliet and Anna wouldn’t see her cry. She wanted to impress them, wanted them to think she was the sort of woman they’d want to be friends with. “We don’t know many people here yet.”

The shame twisted like a knot in Chloe’s throat. Even though they had only just moved here and hadn’t met many people, she felt so pathetic to admit it. These two clearly had lots of friends, close friends, women who would drop everything to be with them in an emergency. Chloe didn’t have anyone. Well, except James, of course—but that wasn’t exactly a reassuring thought at the moment. He still hadn’t made it out of the bathroom.

“I’ll stay with you,” Anna offered. “At least until James gets back, or longer, if you want me. Grace already said she’d keep Charlie for the night, so I don’t have to hurry back.”

“What the hell, I’ll stay too,” Juliet said.

Chloe looked at them wordlessly, her shame dissolving into gratitude.

Anna, mistaking the look, hurriedly added, “Although if you’d rather be alone, we’d completely understand. We don’t want to intrude.”

“No!” Chloe said urgently. “Please stay! Please!”

“We won’t go anywhere,” Anna promised, and she reached forward to squeeze Chloe’s hand.

Two hours later, Chloe had had enough. She was sick of the contractions, sick of the waves of pain, sick of nurses waltzing in and sticking their hands up her crotch, sick of the steady beat of the fetal monitor, which she had initially found so reassuring. She was also fed up with the glaring fluorescent lights, the background noise of the
Friends
rerun playing on the television, and especially with James, who was sitting, relaxed and apparently recovered, in the orange vinyl upholstered visitors’ chair, humming tunelessly, which was annoying Chloe to distraction. She gritted her teeth so she wouldn’t snap at him.

Juliet and Anna had gone off in search of coffee—the nurse had promised it would be a late night—and Chloe hoped they’d be back soon. They’d been distracting her from the pain of the contractions. Juliet was telling a story about a deposition she’d attended where all of the lawyers, except for her, ended up in a fistfight, and Anna chimed in with a story about reviewing a restaurant where the chef was so drunk he’d mistakenly sent out a live lobster to one of her dining companions. Chloe was very, very glad for their company.

The door opened and her doctor came in. Dr. Camp had always reminded Chloe of a classic movie star. An older Jimmy Stewart, maybe, or Gregory Peck. He was in his late fifties and had a strong jaw, wide shoulders, and thick silver hair.

“Hey, Doc,” James said. He stood and shook hands with Dr. Camp.

“How are you feeling, Mrs. Truman?” Dr. Camp asked.

“I’m fine,” Chloe said, and then smiled at her knee-jerk politeness. “It’s starting to really hurt,” she admitted.

“Do you want an epidural?”

“Yes!” Chloe said, with such enthusiasm, the doctor smiled. “I asked for one earlier, but no one’s come in yet.”

“I’ll see what I can do to hurry the anesthesiologist up,” Dr. Camp assured her.

Dr. Camp was gentle and quick as he examined her. Chloe lay still, staring up at the drop-in tile ceiling.

“You’re at seven centimeters,” Dr. Camp said, snapping off his rubber gloves. “We’ve still got a ways to go.”

Chloe nodded and swallowed, trying very hard not to let her terror show.

“Don’t worry,” the doctor said, patting Chloe’s ankle. “You’ll do great.”

“I keep telling her that,” James said, grinning proudly at Chloe. “It’ll be a piece of cake.”

“Easy for you to say,” Chloe grumbled, and James laughed, as she knew he would.