Elizabeth

I take off my glasses and set them on the sink. Cool water chills my heated face as I splash water on it. I rub at my tired eyes, avoiding my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

If Avital’s labor goes on much longer, Nani will have to operate. So much can go wrong with twins.

Please, God, let Avital deliver without intervention.

A guttural moan from the other room pulls my attention to the closed door. What was it like for my mother? I was born in Maryland, at the local hospital, in a private room, at an ungodly hour…that’s all I know. All I ever cared to know. I never asked my mom a lot of questions about my birth, figuring I had time for all those conversations. I thought I had time for everything.

By leaving my parents in DC, I avoided worry about them. I could assume they were alive and healthy, and that gave me room to concentrate on life here: working on the new vaccine with Nani’s supervision, enjoying my marriage, helping out everywhere I could.

I wash my hands in the sink. Lucy’s kidnapping and Avital’s labor are at the forefront of my mind even as my mother floats through my consciousness: her delicate hands, the way she cocked her head when I spoke to her—she cared, really cared. Maybe she didn’t always show it the way I wanted her to—but no one loved me like she did.

A fresh wave of grief and overwhelm crashes over me. I ache to have my mom run her fingers through my hair, to feel the tug of the hairbrush and her gentle hands as she pulls my hair into a ponytail.

Even with JT, the Lucianos, and this amazing community, I miss my mother’s touch… And Dad showing up has been upsetting. He’s so old. So disheveled. So unlike himself. In the months since I saw him, he’s gone from a tall, proud, decisive man to someone haggard, unkempt, with an air of regret and darkness lurking around him.

I know what it takes to get from DC to Idaho. There is no way Dad wasn’t forced to kill people enroute.

The wide eyes of the motorcycle raider I shot on the side of the road flash across my memory. Guilt for the thousands I’m killing each day by not creating the vaccine fast enough wraps around me.

My mother is just one of millions I couldn’t save.

I shake my head, trying to throw off the depression cloaking me. Mama Ana finally went to bed, wiped out with stress, and I need to get back to Avital. She has Dolf, who is being amazing, holding her hands, rubbing her back, telling her how brave and wonderful she is, what a great mother she is. He’s a rock, just what she needs right now.

A hiccup of a sob makes its way past my resolve and I rest my head against the bathroom door for a moment, steeling myself to re-enter the room.

What will it be like when JT and I have a baby? If we ever have one at all? That’s another reality I’ve ignored: obsessed with finding the vaccine, JT and I haven’t even discussed it.

And I know he’s afraid.

JT lost both his wife and his daughter the last time he tried to have children. And I can’t imagine taking on motherhood before I’ve created the vaccine. It’s just not the right time.

But how much time do we have?

The baby JT and I want, the unspoken wish that lies between us when we hold each other, is taking up more space each day. With the loss of my mother the question of my own motherhood is a blinking neon sign, lighting up my brain, distracting it from more pressing matters.

Another moan from Avital gives me the strength and purpose to walk out of the bathroom.

Dolf is seated on a sturdy armchair and Avital’s leaning on him, their heads close together, her hands on his shoulders as her hips swing back and forth and he whispers encouragement to her. She’s wearing one of Dolf’s loose button-down shirts and her red hair is braided, wisps wet with sweat haloing her bent head. The sounds coming out of her are low and intense.

Could I even handle that?

The contraction passes and Avital slumps against her husband, breathing deeply, her eyes closed. Dolf looks up and catches my gaze, and his eyes are filled with terror. Seeing strong, brave Avital in so much pain is frightening.

But with that terror comes strength. When it comes down to fight or flight, Dolf fights, and so does Avital.

Just like JT. Just like my Dad. Just like me.

My mom didn’t have that fight in her. But she gave birth to me. She grew me inside her and then fought to bring me into this world. Avital whispers something against Dolf’s chest and he looks down at her. “You’re sure?”

She nods. “It’s time to push.”

Dolf looks at me, his eyes pleading. Let her survive.

I give a strong nod, reassuring him. This is how it is supposed to be. This is all natural, and as painful as it looks, Avital does not seem worried. She would know if there was something wrong, and in a few minutes, we’ll have Nani check on everything.

“I’ll go get Nani.”

Dolf helps Avital over to the bed as I hurry down the hall to Nani and Luca’s rooms.

The twins are coming. Dolf and Avital are about to be parents. Whether the babies arrive now, or Avital has to go into surgery, these kids will fight for life too.

Nani answers the door when I knock, wearing a tunic top and yoga pants. She’s been resting, but waiting for me to summon her. Her thick hair, a nimbus of dense black curls, touches her shoulders, grown out since she arrived. She’s beautiful in an exotic way, shiny and ripe in her pregnancy. Taking in my expression, Nani steps into the hall and closes the door.

The heavy dome of her abdomen seems lower, even, than yesterday, her belly so big that it brushes my hip. She will be a mother, soon, too. “What’s happening?”

“Avital says it’s time to push.”

Nani nods and we start down the hall. She takes my arm as we walk. “I just want to say how much I appreciate the hard work you’ve done on the vaccine. On everything.”

“Of course. I’m here to help.” Helping is second nature. “Helping is what we do.” I hear the words in my dad’s voice, ringing with conviction.

“But you’ve carried the load of the virus work virtually alone because I couldn’t take the risk of any exposure. I’ve been there to discuss, problem-solve, strategize…but it’s you who’ve done it all. Because of this.” Her smooth tan hand strokes her belly protectively. “I just want to thank you. In case no one else has. Because I know exactly how hard you’ve worked.”

I can’t help but smile as I allow myself a brief moment of pride. “It’s good to hear that from someone I respect so much.” We stop at the doorway into Dolf and Avital’s apartment. Nani leans over to hug me. Her belly, pressed into mine, pushes strongly against me and we both smile down at the moving bulge. “Your time will come,” she says. “When we have the vaccine.”

“I don’t know if we’re ready…” My voice is low and I’m surprised by the note of sorrow that it rings with. “But I’m willing to try. When the time is right.”

A deep moan reaches us through the door. “We’ll see how you feel about it after this.” Nani smiles, indicating the apartment. “Now let’s go deliver some babies.”