Page 95 of Don't Tell Me How It Ends
She said it to hurt me and it worked. Zola’s words echo in my head as I drive aimlessly until I’m parked at the beach, trying to remember how I got here.
Not even the expanse of endless glittering ocean can lift my spirits today. I curl my toes into the sand, warm from theafternoon sun even as it sets, and think back on the past few months. Or years, really. All the times I’ve left the room, deaded a conversation, ended the thing before it even became athing.
I’m not our dad,I assure myself, behind closed eyelids, breathing in the salt-soaked air. Zola’s not right about me. But maybe she’s not exactly wrong either.
All this time, I’d wanted to protect myself, because if I don’t, who will? But somewhere along the way, I forgot about the people on the other side of the shield I was hiding behind. I never stopped to consider who’d been protecting them from me.
—
Mom’s car has joined Liv’s in the driveway by the time I finally return home. Zola will most definitely be asleep now, but I stopped to pick up her favorite burgers just the same.
Inside, three bodies litter the living room in various states of consciousness. Liv’s knocked all the way out on the floor in a makeshift bed of throw pillows and blankets. Mom’s asleep in the recliner, but still tosses and turns. Restless. Zola, I realize, is the only one who’s actually awake. Though she doesn’t look particularly happy to be.
I kneel at her side to extend my greasy bacon and BBQ-sauce-slathered olive branch, but before I can offer it, she groans.
“Hey,” I say on a whisper. “You okay?”
She pushes out a heavy rush of air but doesn’t respond for a few beats. When she looks at me, I see the hint of perspiration beading on her upper lip. She nods, taking deep meditative inhales to catch her breath. I’ve attended enough birthing classes to recognize them.
“How far apart?” I ask, trading the burgers out for my phone to time her contractions.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I didn’t want to wake anyone in case it’s false labor again.”
“How long ago do you think they started?”
But before she can respond, another contraction hits, and this time she moans loudly enough that Mom stirs in her chair. Her eyes flutter open, taking only a moment to focus before she too assesses what’s happening.
Mom doesn’t even try to whisper as she hops up out of her chair. “Is it time?”
Zola’s smile is tinged in uncertainty. “Maybe?”
By now, Liv is up, too, her eyes wide as saucers as she watches Mom and me help Zola up. She battles through her next contraction with a grimace and blows out a breath so forcefully, I’m shocked it doesn’t knock the whole house down.
Liv covers her smile, which is fine, because I’m ignoring her completely as I time how quickly Zola’s contractions are hitting. When Mom rushes ahead of us to grab her keys, Zola leans her body into mine and we hobble toward the garage.
Before the door shuts behind us, I call out to Liv that I’ll text her from the hospital, to which she responds with her usualPOP! POP!“We’re having a baby!”
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I park the car while Momand Zola make their way into the hospital. By the time I finally reach Zola’s room, I’m half expecting to be welcomed by a new baby’s cries, but there’s laughter bubbling out instead.
Zola beams at me with a dopey grin as she bounces on her yoga ball.
“Well, you seem better,” I tell her.
“Right?” she says, framing her chin with her hands. “Turns out having a kid is actually kind of easy.”
Mom laughs from her spot on the couch. “That may have something to do with the epidural.”
Our jokes taper off when Dr. Nazim comes to update Zola on her progress.
“Well, my dear, things are moving along,” she says. “I’d say you’ll probably be ready to start pushing within the hour. What do you think? Ready to have this baby?”
Zola nods, looking so happy, and to her credit, only slightly terrified. “Let’s do it.”
The doctor smiles. “I’m gonna go get cleaned up. You have any last questions for me?”
“Has anyone heard from Jason?”
