“Veer left. Redirecting route,” the Sat Nav said when he took the wrong turn off. “Redirecting route northbound.”
“Would you listen to her?” Gibsie demanded, waving a hand around animatedly. “Talking down to me like she knows everything.” Glaring at the Sat Nav attached to the dashboard of his car, he shouted, “What the fuck do you know about it? Huh? You’re not even from Ireland!”
“It’s a bot, Gibs, not an actual person,” Johnny tried to explain. “Don’t take it personal.”
“Oh, don’t let her fool you, Cap, she knows what she’s doing,” Gibsie argued. “Judging me from her little screen.”
"I can't," I cried out, unable to hold it together a second longer, as the pressure in my pelvis became too much. "Fuck. I need to open my legs and I don’t have enough room."
"Molloy, look at me.”
"No, Joe, No. I don’t want to do this! Please god… I've had enough —”
"Aoife, open your eyes!"
Panic stricken, and for what had to be the first time in my life, I did as I was told.
"I'm here." Joey’s voice was full of confidence. "Right here with ya." His eyes shone with clearness – with sobriety. "I'm going nowhere, okay? Never again. I won’t leave your side." And then his steady hands were on my cheeks, forcing me to focus on his crystal-clear green eyes. "And I won't let anything bad happen to you."
REUNION 2.0
JOEY
When I climbed through Molloy’s window tonight, the last thing I had expected to witness was her in full-blown labor, but that’s exactly what happened.
Battling her mother when we got to the hospital was another event I hadn’t anticipated. To be fair, I didn’t blame Trish for wanting to be with her daughter.
It was a heated argument that resulted in me winning when Molloy stepped in and told the midwife that I was the one she wanted with her.
Several hours had passed since we were taken down to delivery, and while she was dilating and had reached seven centimeters according her last internal, it seemed to be dragging on forever.
Sucking on gas and air like it was going out of fashion, my best friend balanced on a birthing ball, rocking and rolling her hips, as the worst fucking noises I’d ever heard in my life escaped her.
I wanted to save her.
I wanted to put a goddamn stop to her suffering.
But I was completely helpless.
Contorting in pain, as her body tried to expel the baby I’d put in there, I never felt so fucking guilty in my life.
Even now, as she leaned against me in her delivery suite, in the throes of another contraction, all I wanted to do was apologize.
Jesus Christ.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” she declared, twisting sideways on the ball to grip my shoulders. “Joe, I need to go right now.”
“Okay,” I replied, trying to remain calm when her face turned a deep shade of red. “I’ll help you.”
“What’s that?” the midwife, who was lingering nearby, asked when I moved for the adjoined bathroom with my girlfriend leaning heavily against me.
“She needs to use the bathroom,” I explained. “I’m just taking her now.”
“No, no, no,” the midwife replied, ushering us towards the bed instead. “Climb on, Aoife pet, and let me examine you.”
“No, you don’t understand,” Molloy groaned, climbing onto the bed, and then writhing in pain when the nurse stepped between her legs. “If you don’t let me go to the bathroom right this second, I’m going to shit on you!”
“Just as I thought. You’re fully dilated, Aoife,” the midwife declared. “You’re ready to deliver.”
“A poo?”
“No, pet, a baby.”
“Oh, Jesus, Joe.” Crying out, she clutched my hand and pulled me close. “If I shit in front of you, please don’t hold it against me.”
“Molloy,” I coaxed, brushing her hair off her clammy face. “You can do whatever you want in front of me, okay?”
“That’s comforting, Joe,” she cried out, hooking an arm around my neck and catching me up in a headlock Kav would be proud of. “Because I think you’re about to see what I look like on the inside.”
Something was wrong.
I could feel it.
Molloy had been pushing for over an hour and nothing was happening.
The concerned look in the midwife’s eyes was enough to send my heart-rate spiking, but it was the shrill sound of the bell ringing that put the fear of God into me.
“You’re grand,” I coaxed, keeping a death grip on her hand, as her panicked green eyes looked up at me from her hospital bed when the room filled with doctors and nurses. “This is all normal, Molloy.”
It wasn’t.
It couldn’t be.
I’d been with my mother when she delivered Sean.
This was about as far from normal as you could get.
“Okay, Mom, the baby is starting to get very tired, sweetheart, so we’re going to help you deliver, okay?” the midwife that had been with us since admission told us. “We’re doing to take you down to theatre now.”
Theatre?
Jesus Christ.
“Joe,” Molloy cried out, as I was pushed aside for them to wheel her away. “Joe!”
“It’s okay,” I called out, feeling helpless as I watched them take her away from me. “Everything is grand, Molloy, I promise!”
“Dad will follow you down,” the nurse holding her hand said, as they disappeared through the doors with my girlfriend. “He just needs to gown up first.”
“What’s happening?” I choked out, feeling like I was about to pass the hell out, as another nurse helped me into a blue operating gown and hair net. “What’s wrong with her?”
“The baby is showing signs of shoulder dystocia,” she explained calmly. “Mom needs intervention to deliver.”
“What do you mean shoulder dystocia?” I demanded, following her over to the sink and scrubbing my hands raw before patting them dry on paper towels and masking up. “Does Aoife need a caesarian?”
“Baby’s head is out, but baby’s shoulders are stuck in the birth canal,” she explained as she ushered me down a long corridor towards theatre. “Don’t worry, Dad. Mom and baby are in great hands.”
“Joe,” Molloy was crying out when I was finally let into theatre. I could see her on the operating table, surrounded by the surgical team, as her hand flailed around wildly, searching for mine.
“I’m right here, Molloy,” I called out, jumping into action as I moved straight for her, only to be herded towards the top end of the table by one of the surgical team. “I’m here, baby.”
“Joe,” she sobbed, snatching up my hand in hers, as she screamed in pain. “Joe, it hurts so bad.”
“Can you give her something?” I demanded, feeling myself spiral as I watched them manhandle her like she didn’t have feelings. “Jesus Christ, you can’t do that to her without an epidural.”
“No time for that now, Dad.”
“Joe —”
“You’re grand. You’re grand, baby.”