A Child is Born

I exited the Quick Stop sipping an orange Slurpee and found her in the back seat of my ten-year-old Camry. I didn’t know who she was, or why she chose my car. I did know she was about to have a baby, based on the size of her belly and the sounds emanating from her gaped mouth.

I called Mom to let her know I’d be late for Christmas Eve dinner. She thought I was pranking her when I explained why.

I agreed to drive the intruder to the hospital. It wasn’t far.

Traffic came to a halt when we were three blocks away. The honking due to an accident at the intersection ahead told me the hospital might as well be three miles away. 

“At least my water broke before I got in the car.”

“Your what what?” I felt light-headed.

I considered driving down the sidewalk, but there were too many holiday shoppers. I might hit someone paying more attention to their phone than where they were walking.

A scream from inside the car obliterated all the other sounds. I peeked over my shoulder. She was lying on the seat, knees up, legs spread, skirt bunched against her waist. “It’s coming,” she said.

“N-O-O-O,” I responded. I wanted to run, but my legs wouldn’t let me.

I looked around. “Help. She’s having a baby!” Everyone stared straight ahead. “She’s your wife,” a cabbie missing a front tooth yelled. “Man up.”

“She isn’t. I don’t — “

A second scream interrupted me. 

“It’s coming now. Get in here.”

A young woman walked by with peacock strides. My fingers formed a church steeple. She gave me the finger.

I opened the car door. Noticed she was not a natural blond. Averted my eyes.

“Oh, come on. You’ve seen a — um — you know before.”

Actually, this was my first. 

“Okay,” I said,” just breathe. . .or relax. . .or whatever it is you’re supposed to do.”

“I am, you idiot. Now get your hands in there and get ready.”

I put my hands between her legs and closed my eyes. After two more grunts and three screams, I felt something wet in my hands. I looked down and saw a baby boy curled up in my fingers. 

“I thought it took longer to have a baby.” I said.

”This is my fourth trip to the hospital. Don’t ask.” 

“In the movies, they spank a newborn to get its motor started. Right?” 

She nodded. I slapped the boy lightly, afraid I might hurt him.

“Harder,” she yelled. 

I did as I was told, and the kid started crying. The sound reminded me of an opera my mother dragged me to once. Just as I thought I might throw up, a team of paramedics arrived having run from the hospital. I wondered if Peacock Lady was responsible for their timely arrival.

“What’s your name, Cowboy?” the new mother asked.

“Joseph. What’s yours?”

“Mary, 

Laughing, I asked. “What do you think we should name the baby?”