Just One of the Guys(14)

“I brought you a latte,” I say, holding out the cup.

“Oh, you’re so nice,” she smiles. “Sorry, though. I can’t have any.”

Probably one of those green-tea types, I guess, judging by her rather crunchy look. Kim invites me to sit in the reading area at the back, surrounded by glossy picture books, classic Pooh figures, and a mobile shaped like a ship with rainbow sails. I take out my notebook. “So, Kim, how did you come up with the name Marmalade Sky?” I ask.

“It’s from the Beatles’ song.” She smiles, shifting in her chair.

I pause. “The LSD song?”

“No,” she answers. “‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.’”

I pause. “Uh…that’s the LSD song.”

Her face falls. “Oh, no,” she says. She thinks for a moment. “Oh, for God’s sake. Of course it’s the LSD song.”

I laugh. “Don’t worry. I won’t put it in the article. Okay, next question. When did you become inspired to own a toy store?”

“I guess when my sister had her first baby,” Kim says. She talks about her love of children and their vast imaginations. I smile and nod as she talks, sometimes mentioning one of my eight nieces and nephews. Kim smiles often, her plump apple cheeks bunching attractively as her glossy hair swings. “See, Chastity,” she says, leaning forward, “when you give a child the right toy, you’re giving them hours of fun and creativity and imagination, almost giving them the key to…their own…”

“To their own world?” I suggest, scribbling away. She doesn’t answer. I look up.

Kim rises awkwardly out of her chair and stares down at her ample stomach. “I think my water just broke.”

My head jerks back, and my stomach drops as if I’m on the express elevator in the Empire State Building. “You’re—you’re pregnant?” Not heavyset. Not chubby or plump. Pregnant. Crap. Some journalist I make.

“Yeah, I’m…ooh! Yes, that’s water breaking.” She lifts the hem of her long dress and examines her ankle. “Oh! Oh, boy. Yup, it’s started.”

In response to those words, my own water breaks—sweat. I am suddenly drenched in sweat, from the soles of my feet right to my scalp. Because even if I’ve never seen a baby born, I know how it goes. Pain. Screaming. Blood. Gore. “Uh-oh,” I choke out. My throat slams shut, and I can’t seem to breathe. I raise a shaking hand to push my hair off my face, pictures of bloody afterbirth flashing through my mind.

“Um…can you…can you just call my husband for me?” Kim sinks back into the chair, takes a deep breath and rubs her abdomen.

“Are you…um…are you…” There is a watery stripe of blood on her bare ankle. Don’t look. Too late. Don’t look again. Stop looking. “You’re bleeding,” I say in a hoarse whisper, tearing my gaze off her ankle and pointing in the vague direction of her foot.

Kim glances at her ankle. “Oh, they say that’s normal.”

I swallow repeatedly. “Oh.”

“Do you mind?”

“What? Do I mind what?” There’s a buzzing in my ears, and Kim sounds very far away. Stay with it, Chastity! She needs help!

“Can you call my husband? He’s number one on speed dial. My cell phone is in my bag behind the counter.” She breathes in deeply and exhales with a long shushing sound, rocks back in her chair.

I force myself to stand, though my knees are buckling. How can they buckle just because of a little bl—red stuff? I can run five miles without breaking a sweat! I lurch over to the counter, fumble for her bag and dump it out. Keys, wallet, sunglasses, tissues…“I can’t find it!” I call, my voice rough. I order myself to stay calm. Myself doesn’t listen. The panic is rising like icy water, and I do in fact feel close to drowning, my breath coming in labored gasps. “Your phone! Where’s your phone? I can’t find the phone!”

“It’s right in the…oh, man…” She takes a deep breath, then releases it slowly. “Ooh! A contraction! It’s in the side pocket.”

“Side pocket, side pocket, side pocket.” I can hear myself distantly. Easy, Chastity, easy…breathe, breathe, breathe. I can’t faint. I want to, apparently, but I can’t. I have to help this lady. What if that blood means something bad? Someone will have to help her. Someone like me, for example, since I’m the only person here. Renewed terror zips through my veins. I can’t get enough air and I’m hot and cold at the same time and shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. “Are you sure blood is normal?” I squeak.

Kim straightens up in her chair to look at me as I rifle through her bag. “It’s okay,” she assures me. “The blood is just from my cervix dilating. Perfectly natural.” She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, then smiles at me. “They say it will take a long time, even from when your water breaks. The baby won’t come for hours. Maybe not even until tomorrow.”

They say. Who the hell are they, and what do they know? And why is Kim so calm? Isn’t she worried about her own child? I would be! Babies are born in freaky places all the time! I wouldn’t want my baby to be born on the sidewalk or backseat of a cab or on some carnival ride or in a toy store!