Chapter 8 – Riley
“It’s open,” Jensen says, throwing his hands up in the air as if the whole world is just going to visit us tonight. “Come in.”
“Hey,” Ramsey says, their mother’s arm drooped over his shoulder. Her other arm is around Larson, who walks in behind them. “Got a special delivery for you.”
Their mom looks completely out of it, half asleep in a zombie state.
“She must have taken too many of her meds,” Harlow says. “Or maybe got a hold of some street drugs.”
Everyone shrugs. Either one is a good possibility with her, or perhaps both. I rack my brain to remember how she looked and smelled on the staircase. I wasn’t paying the best attention to her since I had been in the middle of doing something else. But it’s entirely possible she had been drunk, or high.
“Hi guys,” Monica says, her head appearing in the doorway before the rest of her followed. “James is with Susan. Sorry to be back here so soon.”
She nods at me, and I say, “It’s a good thing you guys are here. We were just… talking.”
“That’s always a good thing,” says Monica, winking at me. “I’m going to help them take her upstairs and then we can all sit down.”
“Okay,” I tell her.
Good old Monica. Always knowing when to give other people privacy.
“So, as I was saying,” I continue, as the four of them make their way up the stairs. I figure that Jensen’s mom is too far gone to hear or make sense out of anything we’re talking about. “I’ve been holding back some feelings about your mom.”
“So have I,” Jensen says, looking so grateful to be able to tell me.
“What?” I ask him, confused.
“I’ve been thinking we really should start listening to the doctor. And maybe take her to that home…”
His face falls as he says it, as if I’m going to mad.
“I was thinking the same thing,” I tell him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Well, I know how you like taking care of her,” he says. “And I really do appreciate all your help. I don’t want you think we’ve failed. We’ve done the best we can but at this point…”
“I feel exactly the same way,” I tell him. “But I didn’t tell you because you always…”
I trail off, but Harlow picks up my sentence for me. “Want to rescue her.”
“Yes,” I say softly.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I was thinking,” Jensen says. “It would have saved a lot of guesswork. And, truth be told, Harlow, I had my own suspicions she might be drinking again. That’s something I was holding back from telling everyone too because I didn’t want everyone to think I fucking failed. Or to hear everyone say ‘I told you so, Jensen…’,”
Harlow starts laughing and we all look at him.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Just that, all of us weren’t telling the others our true thoughts for that very same reason.”
All of us are laughing our asses off when Monica and Ramsey come back downstairs.
“What’d we miss?” Monica asks, as they sit down on our recliners. “Larson’s upstairs keeping watch on Mrs. Bradford, so she doesn’t try to run off again.”
“Oh, lots,” says Whitney.
Another pain grips my stomach, and I try not to squirm. I grit my teeth, not wanting to interrupt catching Ramsey and Monica up on things.
“You look good,” Monica says to Whitney, surprised.
“Um, thanks?” Whitney answers, looking at me with a cringed expression. We both laugh.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Monica says. “You’d just seemed really… down, lately, and I’m glad to see that it looks like you’re in better spirits.”
“Oh,” Whitney says, smiling. “I’m just really relieved that things have come out into the open.”
“What has?” Ramsey asks, obviously clueless.
“The long and short of it is that we’re going to put Mom in that home,” Jensen says.
“Finally!” Ramsey exclaims, nearly pumping his fist in the air. “I think this is a really good decision.”
“Yeah,” Monica says. “The last thing you need with a new baby on the way is to have to try to deal with someone so sick only doctors probably know how to deal with.”
She points upstairs.
“If they even know how,” Harlow adds.
“Guys, don’t be mean,” Jensen says, always the peacekeeper.
“We’re not,” Monica protests. “It’s true. She’s sick. She needs help above and beyond what we’re able to give her. You two certainly tried your best and it’s admirable.”
“I’m glad we can all be here together to deal with it,” Ramsey says. “Even if the circumstances are less than ideal.”
“Of course,” Jensen says. “That’s what we do. We’re brothers united, back when we were kids, when we were SEALs together, and now that we’re facing this crisis.”
“Brothers and their wives united,” Whitney jokes, and I start to laugh but abruptly stop.
I feel another pain— most definitely a contraction— coming on, and I grip my stomach. This time, I can’t help but stand up and bend over a little bit, trying to ease the pressure and catch my breath.
“Yeah,” I say, sitting back down after a minute. “This baby just keeps giving me these… practice contractions. Maybe strong Braxton Hicks or something.”
“Hmmm,” Monica says, a concerned look crossing her face. “That looked a lot stronger than Braxton Hicks.”
“Are you sure you’re all right, honey?” Jensen asks, rubbing my back.
“Yes,” I tell him, but I’m really not sure. I guess I’ll find out when I get another contraction.
“Okay,” says Harlow, nodding as if that’s that. “Now we just have to figure out a plan to get Mom to peacefully go to the home.”
“You mean as peacefully as possible,” Ramsey says. “Because there’s no way she’ll go without a fight.”
“I don’t know,” Jensen says, slightly shaking his head. “You guys haven’t been here most of the time she has been staying with us, until pretty recently.”
“You’re right,” I agree. “She was surprisingly peaceful. It was nice. And then this… relapse… or whatever.”
Suddenly I’m struck by a pain so strong I can barely breathe. It seems to grip my windpipe, my stomach, and even my thighs, and squeeze with all its might. At the same time, it seems to want to break my pelvis, because I feel tremendous pain down there as well.
I stand up and move back and forth from one foot to the next.
“Riley!” Monica says. “I know this has been a stressful evening and that stress can cause contractions but I really think this might be the real thing…”
“Are you okay?” Jensen asks at the same time, looking panicked.
“I think I might need a real fitness ball now,” I joke, but before I can even laugh, a gush of liquid comes pouring down my legs.
“Well, I think we’re going to have to make a plan for Mom after I have this baby,” I tell them. “Because I think my water just broke.”