The Girl's Guide to the Apocalypse (16 page)

I rushed off to mention it to Robert, who rubbed his chin, trying to hide the look of disgust. He had now reverted to wearing robes with nothing underneath. Sometimes he tied the belt around his waist. Sometimes he didn’t and would let nature do what it wanted.

“What are we supposed to do with that?” he asked. “We can’t have a baby in here.”

“Frankly, I’m surprised this place hasn’t become overrun with desperate, pregnant women already,” I said. “Is there any way we can take medical advice as payment tonight?”

“Nah,” he said. “Be serious.”

“You’re running a business,” I said. “In a time of no jurisdiction. I’ve had to stop eight kidnapping attempts, and spearhead a safer self-defense workshop. I agree. Babies shouldn’t be here, but that’s about to change whether you like it or not.”

“Ask Joaquin,” he said. “Make him do it.”

“That guy is useless,” I said. “Which reminds me, that guy can’t be eating all that processed cheese. He’s going to wipe out the limited plumbing we do have.”

“So what do you suggest we do?” he asked.

“Burn all the dairy products,” I said. “Anything that still exists at this point is going to do nothing but damage to anyone, anyway.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about!” he snapped. “What about Maritza? We can’t have a baby here!” He lowered his voice. “Do you think we should have a baby raffle for our customers?”

I raised an eyebrow in disbelief, and he nodded in agreement.

“So you agree?” he asked.

“Nope,” I said. “Terrible idea.”

“Well, he can’t wait tables now, can he?”

“Look,” I said. “Rebecca was working as a nurse at the quarantine. And you’re telling me she knew absolutely nothing? She did give me a shot of something that surprisingly did not kill me.”

Maritza cried out in labor pains.

He shuddered at the sound. “Maybe,” he said. “But I don’t know a lot about her background.”

“You’re married to her,” I said. “You said you felt like you’d spent ten thousand dates with her.

“Marriage can mean anything these days. And I say a lot of things I don’t mean.”

As it turns out, Rebecca knew next to nothing about Maritza’s condition.

“Isn’t there someone else that can help?” Rebecca asked, emphatically shaking her head. “Babies are cute and all, but I can’t go in there.”

“Her water broke,” I said. “She needs help. You think I know what to do?”

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll cheer you on, though.”

I had Maritza sit on a checkout stand with a thermometer in her mouth while I dragged Rebecca out of the toy section to see her. When I returned Maritza was crying.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “How are you feeling?”

She squealed, and then gripped my arm with talon-like fingernails.

“I don’t know why you think I know anything,” she said. “All I ever did was be an assistant manager at Sephora. Then the Incident happened and I volunteered to assist the onsite quarantine doctor because I thought it was a good place to meet men. Which it was.”

I was incredulous. “Weren’t there any pregnant women in that quarantine?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t see them if there were.”

I sighed. “How do you feel?” I asked Maritza.

Maritza smiled despite being red faced and straining. “Well,” she gritted her teeth. “It really hurts and I feel like I’m straining to throw out a pot roast.”

Her words then merged into more screams.

She pointed to the lower part of her belly. “I thought I had more time!”

“You’re soooo lucky,” Rebecca said and hoisted herself onto the stand. “I’m dying for Robert and I to start a family. The birth process is so beautiful.”

I incredulously looked at her, which she happily gave me a dirty look. I cleared my throat, putting my hands on my hips to give the impression of being in charge.

“Can you at least give her some space?” I asked.

Reluctantly, they stepped back as Maritza gasped under pressure. Rebecca sulkily slid off the counter.

“Watch her,” I said. “I’ll be looking for help.”

Costco has a book section. I thought perhaps they might have a
Birthing for Dummies
title, but instead, all I found was different diet books, three of them written by Dr. Phil, several
Finding Your Independence
books and a multitude of cookbooks. Nothing about childbirth. The book section merged into the movie section, where my eyes stopped on a special anniversary edition of
Gone with the Wind
. Immediately, I heard one of the characters say, “Mamma says to put a knife under the pillow to cut the pain in two.”

I ran back to where Maritza was still parked, groaning and sweating, while Rebecca now had the thermometer in her mouth while the rest of the women gathered around the scene.

“Okay,” I said. “Now if I remember my movies correctly, we need some hot water and some sheets.”

“Aisle 23,” Rebecca said. “Maybe 24.”

“Can you get them?”

She rolled her eyes.

I leaned forward and jabbed her with my finger. “You’re going to help me or I sell private dances for you in exchange for superhero shirts.”

She grimaced, but moved toward Aisle 23. In the meantime, Maritza grabbed my hand and moaned even louder. The girls gathered closer, realizing what was going on.

“Anyone know anything about this?” I asked. “Anyone want to pitch in?”

They all shook their heads, but started to chatter about every birthing story they knew.

“My friend had a baby that was born C-section and couldn’t breathe at first. It’s fine now, though.”

“My cousin, Beth, took thirty-six hours to have her baby and then it came out black. Her husband is white so that was super awkward.”

“This one girl I knew in college didn’t even know she was pregnant. She went to the bathroom at a rest stop. Next thing you know, she’s got a baby and doesn’t even remember having sex to begin with.”

“Thanks, guys,” I said. “All of this is really helpful.”

Maritza was in full-blown pain. I tried to comfort her while she screamed and helped her breath, but there was very little I could do. Eventually Rebecca returned with the water and two sets of sheets tucked under her arm.

“What took you so long?” I asked. “She’s in a lot of pain.”

“Calm down,” she said. “Besides, I discovered a whole section back there with pens and stuff.”

“How would that be helpful?”

She pulled one out. “I can write down the baby’s measurements.”

She turned to Maritza. “How you doing, doll?”

“Make it stop,” Maritza said. “Make it stop!”

The women were still loudly talking over each other, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Robert slowly pass by, but then do a sharp u-turn back to the other side of the aisle.

“Hey!” I shouted.

The women immediately shut up.

“Maritza is having a baby and no one knows what they should do. If anyone has any helpful advice,” I emphasized the word “helpful,” “then I suggest you say it. Otherwise, we should probably try to keep her calm.”

One of the women raised her hand. “I heard that singing calms things down.”

“Then by all means,” I said.

I don’t know how they did it, but eventually the women decided on a song, TLC’s
Waterfalls
and sang the chorus about fifteen times. And it did calm Maritza down until her contractions kicked up again, and all I could think to do was instruct her to push.

“Don’t go chasing waterfalls,” they sang.

“Push, Maritza!” I said. “Push, push, push!”

The women turned into cheerleaders and started to chant. “Push, push, push!”

Three hours later, with twelve of us gathered around, I pulled Maritza’s baby boy out of her. He was a screamer, and we immediately wrapped him in a blanket, handing him off to his mother. At first, Martiza looked at it as if she held a swaddled bomb, but she slowly relaxed and beamed down at him. Unfortunately, all Rebecca could find was some gardening shears so we hacked at the umbilical cord until the kid was free.

Maritza was exhausted and the experience had drained her, so I let her pass out on that check stand while the rest of the women fawned over the baby. I was exhausted, so I collapsed onto the floor away from the mess.

Robert eventually came around to hold him. “What are we calling him?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “That should be the mother’s decision.”

He scowled slightly. “So we’re not calling him Robert Jr?”

“Ask her,” I said.

“I mean, the reason she’s here is because of me, so…”

Long story short, we called the baby Robert Jr.

The women and I were bonded now. Maritza’s birth episode drew us together, and finally, I was considered a hero, valued more than Robert the guru. I was a ringleader and giver of birth, now allowed to sit at the breakfast table, best of all, now my word meant more than Robert’s. Sort of like the time, years ago, when Robert’s assistant made a scene at the Christmas party and I drove her home. Two months later, I got negative comments on my performance reviews for having her being at my desk all the time.

One of the wives led a yoga session, which I was finally allowed to participate in, when Robert came and found me. He tapped me on the shoulder while I struggled to keep my balance during a warrior pose.

“Walk with me,” he said.

It took him a lap around the store to get his thoughts together. He frowned a lot while his open robe flared out, exposing everything.

“I have a dilemma,” he said. “And you need to make the decision on it.”

“Is it about that draft you’re undoubtedly feeling?” I asked and gestured toward his uncovered junk. “I can suggest a solution for that. Aisle 22?”

Robert waved it away. “No, no, no.”

“If this is about the smell coming from the far end of the store, I’m right there with you,” I said. “I’m not going to name names, but I will say I blame someone whose name rhymes with Joaquin.”

“Not that,” he said. “We’re running low on supplies.”

“Here?” I asked. “We just walked past an aisle that’s nothing but three-pound boxes of Splenda.”

“We can’t feed each other on Splenda and you know it,” he said. “Our customers are eating us out of house and home, and I suddenly realized it yesterday.”

“I was afraid of that,” I said. “I was trying to cut back by only offering customers Ritz crackers and hot mustard.”

“What about us?” he asked. “I’ve got a family to support now, but there’s too many of us. Is there another Costco or Sam’s that we can move our operation to?”

“I don’t know.” I sighed. “Maybe way across town, but it’s probably been decimated, and the trip on foot there might kill us all at this point.”

“I expect you to think these things through,” Robert said angrily. “You’re my employee. What do I pay you for?”

“Well, for one thing, you don’t,” I said.

“Yes, I do!” he exclaimed, gesticulating wildly. “Shelter! Food! Wisdom! The point is do you think any of my wives would be open to the idea of moving to another roaming family in exchange for their supplies?”

I rubbed my head. “That’s a terrible idea,” I said. “And now you’re just talking about human trafficking. That’s just cruel.”

“Shelter and food!” he said. “
Shelter
and
food
! And it’s not cruel. You can’t argue with my generosity. Robert Jr is going to grow up and have all this to look after, and you better hope he keeps you on the payroll. Otherwise I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” I said. “And just like before, working for you now is just the same as working for you then—I’m just here until I can find something better.”

I stormed off, angry, although part of me was really hoping he’d follow me and apologize.

“So quit then!” he called out after me. “Just run away and quit! I’d like to see how well you do on your own.”

“Maybe I will!” I yelled. “At least I know to put on underwear every day!”

At this point, any self-respecting woman would have probably marched out and redeemed her independence in the wild, but the truth was, I was really scared to. I didn’t want to be out there. This new world frightened me with its new barbaric practices, and there was no telling what human-sized monster waited at the next mile to kill you or steal your Wheat Thins. So I stormed to the other side of the store, hoping that Robert would find me, apologize and tell me that I was the best employee he’d ever had. Instead, one of the girls came and found me while I was laying three shelves up in the electronics department, next to some Blu-ray players.

“Hey,” she said in her mousy voice. “The girls want you to know that some of us got a can of soup for lunch and some of us didn’t.”

“Take Joaquin’s,” I said.

Then Rebecca came and found me.

“Robert’s looking for you,” she snapped.

“Tell him I’m not here.”

She seemed confused, folded her arms and gave it some thought. “But you are here. Where would you go?”

“I just don’t want to talk—” I started. “Oh, forget it.”

I got out of my steel cubby and then followed her. She gave me a sidelong glare.

“I like you, which I didn’t want to do,” she said. “But don’t be Robert’s wife.”

I started to giggle like a fourteen year old. I don’t know why.

“Um,” I said. ”Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s just,” she said. “We’ve been married for so long now—”

“Two months?” I asked. “Three weeks? A week and a half?”

“—and I see how he talks to you and how he looks at you. Like he genuinely likes you. He doesn’t come to me with things. He doesn’t complain about his other wives to me like he does you.”

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” I said. “I’ll be here for a while.”

She took me to Robert’s office, which was a set of kids’ bunk beds. He now sat cross-legged on the top one.

“Join me, why don’t you?” He coldly patted the mattress space next to him.

I obeyed and climbed to the top.

“I’ve given it some thought,” Robert said after a long awkward silence. “And thought about what you said.”

“Look,” I said. “I’m sorry about what happened. I still don’t agree with you, but that doesn’t mean we can’t work out a solution to our problem here.”