Page 109 of Hold the Pickle
And it’s not like Dalton and I went on fancy dates or dressed up for each other. Our entire relationship had been built on our shared apartment. Regular meals. Watching television. Playing with cats.
This is the version of me he knew best.
I slide the elastic on my wrist. “You ready for this?” I ask Mom.
She nods, also dropping her mirror to look at herself. “I cried off my mascara.”
“I never had any to begin with.”
She rubs her finger under her eyes and grins. “Good thing we’re not walking any red carpets while we’re here.”
“You never know.”
She flips up the visor and kills the engine. “I’m glad we came together.”
“It’s going to be so great. A girl! A little girl Pickle.”
She laughs. “Every Pickle’s a Pickle.”
We head inside, navigating the labyrinth of the hospital as we follow the signs to the elevators.
Seventh floor. As we go up, I wonder if Dalton takes this elevator, or if there is one for doctors that he uses. There’s no mirror in here, so I can’t judge what I look like in my sweats, all stretched out from the drive.
It’s fine.
We step out of the elevator immediately opposite the glass windows of the nursery. Only one newborn is in there, red-faced and crying as he’s cleaned by a nurse. Four gray-haired family members stand close together, filming every moment with their phones.
Mom slides her arm through mine. “This is a happy place.”
“I think that baby in there might disagree.”
She laughs. “It’s a big shift from a watery slumber to the real world.”
“Is it too late for me to go back in?”
She laughs. “If only I could keep you that close for always.”
The nurse’s station is empty, but I already have the room number. I point at a plate on the wall. “Room 739 is that way.”
“Did you get an update since the last one?” Mom asks.
“No. It’s been an hour.”
“Oh, it would be so great if she’s been born.”
We hurry down the hall, passing a cluster of chairs with a TV in the corner. I stop when I spot Uncle Sherman. “Hey!”
Mom turns to see who I’m talking to. “Sherman! What are you doing out here?”
“I got kicked out.” He sits with his elbows on his knees, his hands tightly together.
I sit next to him. They might not want more visitors if things are intense. “How did you get here so fast?” Sherman lives in New York.
“Dell let me use his plane. Grammy came with me. She’s in the room. Camryn doesn’t want anyone else until it’s done. She was struggling.”
Mom sits on the other side of him. “Then we’ll wait with you.”
“Jason’s on the way, flying up from Austin. He’ll be here in a couple of hours. Anthony is driving up in the morning.”
