The Culmination (12 page)

Josh puts his arm around my shoulders. “She’s gonna be fine,” he mutters.

“Mr. Faraday, your wife had a placental abruption. And now she’s developed a condition called DIC. This means she’s bled so much, she’s lost the ability to clot her own blood. This is fairly common with abruptions and it’s a very serious situation. The doctors are doing everything they can.”

“But she’s gonna be okay,” Josh declares. It’s a statement, not a question.

“We’ll keep you apprised as the situation develops.”

“But at the end of the day, she’ll be fine, right?” Josh coaches, his voice strained.

I sit down in the chair behind me and put my hands over my face.

“They’re doing everything they can,” the nurse repeats, unwilling to follow Josh’s lead. “As soon as the doctors have things stabilized, one of them will come out to give you a full update.”

Josh sits next to me and puts his arm around me. I lean into him, my hands over my face. “She’s gonna be fine,” he mutters, squeezing my shoulder.

“Your wife will be in surgery for several more hours,” the nurse says. “Would you like me to take you to the NICU so you can meet your babies? I’ve received the go-ahead from the NICU for you to come on down.”

“Yeah,” Josh says, leaping up from his chair. “Of course.”

I drop my hands away from my face and look up at the nurse. She’s looking at me with genuine sympathy. I look at Josh blankly. I don’t know if I can move. I don’t know if I can function enough to do anything but sit here. I need to stay here, just in case Sarah needs me.

“Come on, Jonas,” Josh says. “You’re a father. Meet your babies.”

I know what I’m supposed to say right now. I know what the right answer is—the normal answer. But the truth is I don’t care about anything or anyone except Sarah right now, even my babies.

Josh’s phone buzzes in his pocket. “Hang on.” He pulls out his phone and looks at the screen. “Kat’s mom arrived at the house to watch Gracie. Kat’s on her way here with Sarah’s mom.”

I don’t reply. I don’t give a shit about anyone or anything except Sarah.

Josh pulls on my arm. “Come on, Jonas. Let’s go see your babies.”

“Has anyone told you the genders yet?” the nurse asks.

“No,” Josh answers.

The nurse smiles at me, but her eyes are heavy with sympathy. “Girls,” she says. “You have two baby girls, Mr. Faraday. Just about four pounds each.”

Chapter 12

Jonas

My babies—my daughters—are each nestled inside Plexiglas incubators, their small bodies attached to monitors. Ventilators protrude from their mouths.

“I didn’t know a human could be this small,” Josh says.

I can’t process what I’m seeing right now.

“I think Gracie was, like, eight pounds?” Josh says. “Gracie looked like Godzilla compared to these two.”

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. My brain can’t compute the meaning of the little pink creatures in front of me.

“Gracie would have gobbled one of your babies for a mid-afternoon snack,” Josh continues.

I’m too mesmerized by their little fingers and toes to respond.

“Grassy eat baby!” Josh says, mimicking Gracie’s voice. “Man, they don’t even look real,” Josh continues. “They look like little animatronic puppets
.
”

He’s right. They do.

“Excuse me,” Josh says to the nearby NICU nurse. “Where’s the guy who’s working the remote control on these puppets?”

“He’s behind that curtain over there,” the nurse says, motioning. She beams a smile at him, the way all women do.

“Yep. I knew it,” Josh says. “Well, tell him he’s doing a bang-up job—these puppets seem really lifelike.”

The nurse laughs.

Baby A in front of me is thrashing wildly, her tiny limbs outstretched and strained, while Baby B in the incubator closest to Josh is serene and quiet. Both girls are wearing little pink caps and diapers that look three sizes too big for their tiny torsos.

I reach my index finger down to Baby A, and her hand rests against it, barely covering the tip of my finger. At the touch of her soft skin against mine, a fierce protectiveness rises up inside me. “Hi, Luna,” I say softly. She jerks her arms and legs wildly in reply. “Are you the Crazy Monkey who’s been doing Zumba on your mommy’s nerves?”

“Luna?” Josh asks.

I nod.

Josh bites his lip. “Yeah, she’s definitely Crazy Monkey,” he says. “Just look at her—she’s you.”

I can’t help but smile.

“And who’s this?” Josh asks, motioning to the serene baby in the incubator in front of him.

“Marisol,” I say—and right on cue, she throws up her little arm as if to say, “Here!” I can’t help but smile. “But Sarah says we’ll call her Sol—because she says our daughters will be our entire world—our sun and moon.” Tears well up in my eyes. I take a deep breath and force them back down.

“Little Miss Sunshine,” Josh says softly, stroking Marisol’s miniature leg. “Little Miss Sunshine Faraday.”

I can’t help but smile. “Little Miss Sunshine Faraday,” I repeat. I can’t imagine a more perfect name for her.

Josh exhales. “Well, man, it’s official. The Faraday men are hopelessly outnumbered. I’m having this mental image of you, me, and Uncle William standing on a desert island, surrounded by an endless sea of estrogen.”

I grin. I didn’t know my mouth was still capable of turning up, but apparently it is.

“I foresee a helluva lot of pink and purple in our future.”

“No, not purple,” I say adamantly. “Purple is strictly prohibited in my house.”

Josh chuckles. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that.” He snickers. “You pervert.” There’s a long beat as he strokes Marisol’s arm. “Looks like we’re gonna need to buy a couple more pairs of pink sparkle-boots, huh?”

Right on cue, Luna kicks her little thighs wildly.

“‘Pink sparkie boots!’” Josh says, speaking for Luna. “Yippee!”‘

I can’t help but smile again.

“We’re so screwed,” Josh says.

I look down at Luna and my heart pangs and twists in my chest. Oh my God, is this pain—or is it pleasure? Whatever it is, it’s an overwhelming sensation.

“I already love them,” I say softly. “More than I thought possible.”

Josh shoots me a crooked smile. “Welcome to fatherhood, bro. Isn’t it
fun
?”

“Oh, yeah—so far, fatherhood’s an
effing
blast.” I touch Luna’s toes and she flinches under my touch—and, all of a sudden, I want nothing but to feel her tiny body pressed against my chest. “When will we be allowed to hold them?” I ask the nearby nurse.

“As soon as they’re off the ventilators. Hopefully, no more than a few days—maybe even tomorrow. Their lungs seem to be doing pretty well.”

“Yeah, the doctor told us,” Josh says. “That’s great news.” Josh looks down at Marisol. “You and your sister are little beasts, aren’t you, Little Miss Sunshine?”

“Switch with me, Josh. I don’t want Sunshine to think I don’t love her, too.”

He nods and we trade incubators.

“Hi, baby,” I say, stroking Marisol’s soft feet. “Little Miss Sunshine.” She strains toward my touch and my heart leaps and pangs exactly the way it did when I was touching Luna.

“Hi, Luna,” Josh whispers, laying his large hand on her tiny chest. “Nice to meet you, Crazy Monkey. I’m your Uncle Josh.”

“Oh no,” I say. “Tit for tat. I’m gonna make them call you something horrific like Uncle Joshie-Woshie.”

“Oh, hell no.”

“Oh, hell
yes
. Karma’s a bitch, motherfucker.”

The nurse behind us clears her throat.

“Oh. Sorry,” I say.

“Joke’s on you. They won’t be able to say that, anyway. It’ll come out like Unkie Jshwshsh.”

“Oh no, we’ll work with them every single day ’til they get it exactly right,” I say. And the minute those fantastical words leave my mouth, my heart wrenches in my chest like I’m being stabbed with a rusty blade. Why am I letting myself envision a future in which Sarah and I happily teach our toddlers to say “Uncle Joshie Woshie”? I swallow hard, but I can’t keep tears from pooling in my eyes.

Sarah.

“
She’s gonna be okay,” Josh says, reading my mind. “Sarah’s the strongest person I know.”

I blink back my tears. “If she doesn’t pull through,” I whisper, but I can’t finish the sentence.

Josh’s jaw muscles pulse. “She’s gonna pull through.”

“But if she
doesn’t
—”

“Stop.”

“Josh, if she doesn’t pull through,” I persist.

Josh shakes his head sharply at me.

“Then I’m going with her.”

Josh swallows hard. Wordlessly, he bends down to Luna and touches her tiny fingers, one by one. “Jonas, that option is officially unavailable to you, bro,” he says, not looking at me, “for the rest of your life.”

I look down at Sunshine and then over at Luna, processing what Josh just said to me—and with sudden clarity, I know he’s right. Holy fuck. He’s right.
I’m a father
. These miniature people are
mine.
Forever. No turning back. And I can’t let them down.

Holy shit. I suddenly feel like I’m standing at a fork in the road. Am I gonna be the kind of father who blows his fucking brains out while his kid is making him a turkey burger downstairs? Or am I gonna be the kind of father who climbs any mountain and slays any dragon for his baby girls—even if that mountain or dragon happens to be himself?

Josh is looking at me with eyes that see right through me. He raises his eyebrows, clearly asking me if I understand and accept the situation.

I nod.

Josh steps forward and puts his hand on my shoulder. “You’re not alone in this. I’m right here.”

“I love her,” I say simply.

Josh wraps his arms around me. “I know,” he says, his voice quavering into my cheek. “I love her, too.”

“I don’t know how to live without her,” I choke out.

“You won’t have to.”

“She’s my everything.”

“She’s gonna pull through, Jonas—I know she will. She’s Sarah
Fucking
Cruz.” His body twitches violently against me as he tries to contain his emotion.

“This is too hard,” I say. “It’s too hard for me to handle.”

“It’s too hard for anyone to handle. It’s not just you.”

I mumble something incoherent into his neck and Josh squeezes me tighter.

“Have faith, Jonas,” Josh whispers into my ear. “God wouldn’t take Sarah from us. There’s no way he’d be that fucking cruel.” His voice is strained. “
Again
.”

Chapter 13

Sarah

I’m standing inside a massive cave on the lip of a towering waterfall, peering into the dark abyss below me. A warm, driving rain pelts me from above, drenching my skin and hair and clothes. If it weren’t for the headlamp on my helmet, I’d be enveloped by utter blackness without reprieve.

I can’t move.

I can’t speak.

I’m in pain.

Is this rain-battered cave some sort of gigantic metaphor for my own demise—a construct my mind has created to make death understandable to me? Wow, that’d be hella poetic—and, jeez, awfully sad, too. But, no, I don’t think I’m dead, because every inch of my body hurts right now.
Juepucha culo.

My face feels heavy. My head is pounding. And, oh my God, what is that horrible pain in my abdomen? Holy crappola. If this is death, then I’m officially pissed because the brochure clearly stated I’d feel nothing but eternal serenity all the dead-long day.

The rain is gaining in intensity. My teeth are chattering.

I look down.

I’m holding my sons, one in each arm, swaddled in blue blankets from head to toe. I peer at them through the dark, my headlamp barely cutting a swath through the driving rain—but I can’t make out their faces. Hey, hold up. Aren’t my babies supposed to be in my belly right now?

I look down and the rocks beneath my bare feet crumble and fall away into the darkness below. I step back, trying to steady myself on firmer ground, but the rocky ledge beneath my feet is shifting.

I tilt my face up and let the warm, sheeting rain pound me in the face.

Hold up. How is it raining
inside
a cave?

I stick out my tongue. The rain tastes salty. And metallic. The smell of blood suddenly fills my nostrils. I jerk violently with my epiphany and scramble to focus my headlamp on the bundles in my arms. My light illuminates a crimson-soaked blanket in my right arm—and then in my left. Dark, wet, viscous blood is dripping off the bundles in my arms and making me gag. Oh, God. There’s blood
everywhere
. All over me. All over the babies. And dripping down the rocks surrounding me. I try to shriek, but nothing comes out of my mouth.

My stomach clenches. I have to save my babies from this torrent of blood. I look down toward the dark water below and my knees knock uncontrollably. That’s a long, dark, scary-as-shit way down. I can’t do this. I’m not ready. Oh shit. No effing way.

“Sarah,” a calm voice beneath me says. “I’m right here.”

Jonas.

“You’re gonna be okay, baby. I’m right here.”

A small orb of light illuminates the surface of the black water below. “Here,” Jonas’ voice says from below, calm and confident. His hand extends into the sphere of light and pats the water. “I’m right here, Sarah.”

“Jonas,” I try to say, but my voice doesn’t work. Tears stream down my blood-soaked cheeks.

“My precious baby,” Jonas says softly into my ear. I feel his nose nuzzling against my cheek.

“Jonas,” I breathe, closing my eyes.

Wait. Why the frickity-frack can I hear Jonas in my ear and feel his nose against my cheek when he’s down in the water below? I peer into the abyss beneath me and, yup, his hand protrudes into the orb of light.

“I’m right here,” Jonas whispers softly in my ear again. His hand clasps mine. “Don’t leave me, Sarah.
I need you.
”

My sweet Jonas needs me? Oh, well, then, that settles it. I take a deep breath, hug my babies to me, and hurl myself off the edge of the waterfall.

I’m instantly sinking into cold blackness. I flail my arms, trying to gain traction, and, as I do, I lose my grip on my babies. I try to scream as they float away from me, but I can’t make a sound. Ink-black water is flooding my mouth and rushing down my throat. But just when I think I’m a goner, strong arms grab me and pull me up, up, up until my face breaks the surface of the water.