swaddled, still sleeping babies into their arms, telling me they were bringing them to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit where they would be fully examined and fed. The thought that something could be wrong with Paulette and Payton never occurred to me, but now another dark cloud hung over my head.
“Are they okay?” The words raced out of my mouth.
“Don’t worry, sir,” replied one of the nurses as I jumped out of the ambulance. “They look healthy and beautiful. The NICU is where we take all preemies for a thorough examination.”
With a heavy sigh of relief, my attention returned to Gloria. The paramedics were hooking her up to a portable IV unit.
“Get her legs up,” ordered Marcy.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice frantic. My heart was thudding so loudly I could hear it.
“She’s probably torn her uterus,” she replied and then addressed the paramedics, who were still hurriedly hooking her up to various tubes. One of them covered her with a thick blanket, sparing me the sight of seeing her blood-soaked shirt.
“Let’s go!” the stern doctor snapped.
On my next rapid breath, the paramedics burst through the automatic doors with Gloria unconscious on the gurney and all hooked up to IVs. My angel was as white as chalk, but I focused on the rise and fall of her chest. Thank fucking God, she was still breathing. I held onto the railing of the gurney, racing with them as they rushed her down a long corridor and into a wide elevator. Dr. Bernstein kept pace beside me.
“Where are you taking her?” My heart was beating a mile a minute, my voice breathless.
“For an MRI and then surgery.”
At the word surgery, my stomach twisted into a painful knot.
“What blood type is she?”
“O.” Gloria’s blood type was the same as mine.
“She’s likely going to need a transfusion. She’s had significant blood loss.”
I quickly shared the fact that Gloria and I shared the same blood type.
“We’re going to need you,” she breathed out. “Stay with us.”
Two hours and six units of blood later, I restlessly sat in the waiting room, my unhinged body a bundle of nerves. What was fucking taking so long? To distract myself, I checked my iPhone; I’d turned it off while Gloria was giving birth on the street. There were now dozens of texts and messages awaiting me. One was from Blake whom I’d call later, but the great majority were from Kevin. I owed him a call. He was like a brother to Gloria; they had been through thick and thin together. He needed to know what was going on. I speed-dialed his number.
“Jaime,” he breathed into the phone. “What’s going on? Is everything okay with Gloria?”
I inhaled a gulp of air. How was I going to break the news to him? Finally, I settled on the truth. “It’s not good.”
“What do you mean?” Despair underscored his voice.
“The babies, I think, are fine. But Gloria—” My voice choked up.
“What about Gloria?” His voice rose an octave. He loved her as much as I did.
“She’s in surgery. She had a hemorrhage.”
“Fuck. I’m coming over. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” His voice was instantly tearful.
“Pray for her, Kev.” Tears dripped from my voice too.
“I am.”
*
Two long hours later, Gloria was out of surgery and recovery, and now in a small room on Cedars’s intensive care floor. She was resting in a bed, unconscious, still hooked up to a myriad of IVs and monitors. At least the oxygen mask was off her face, and I could see it in its full glory. Her sensuous full lips were slightly parted, and soft shallow breaths emanated from them. Her chest rhythmically rose and fell, her long platinum braid curling around her ravishing breasts. A serene paleness washed over her. My Gloria looked like an angel. Too much like one.
Tyrone had stopped by earlier with her things along with the little box I’d asked him to bring along. The word fear did not exist for an imposing man like Ty who’d grown up a fighter
“Are they okay?” The words raced out of my mouth.
“Don’t worry, sir,” replied one of the nurses as I jumped out of the ambulance. “They look healthy and beautiful. The NICU is where we take all preemies for a thorough examination.”
With a heavy sigh of relief, my attention returned to Gloria. The paramedics were hooking her up to a portable IV unit.
“Get her legs up,” ordered Marcy.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice frantic. My heart was thudding so loudly I could hear it.
“She’s probably torn her uterus,” she replied and then addressed the paramedics, who were still hurriedly hooking her up to various tubes. One of them covered her with a thick blanket, sparing me the sight of seeing her blood-soaked shirt.
“Let’s go!” the stern doctor snapped.
On my next rapid breath, the paramedics burst through the automatic doors with Gloria unconscious on the gurney and all hooked up to IVs. My angel was as white as chalk, but I focused on the rise and fall of her chest. Thank fucking God, she was still breathing. I held onto the railing of the gurney, racing with them as they rushed her down a long corridor and into a wide elevator. Dr. Bernstein kept pace beside me.
“Where are you taking her?” My heart was beating a mile a minute, my voice breathless.
“For an MRI and then surgery.”
At the word surgery, my stomach twisted into a painful knot.
“What blood type is she?”
“O.” Gloria’s blood type was the same as mine.
“She’s likely going to need a transfusion. She’s had significant blood loss.”
I quickly shared the fact that Gloria and I shared the same blood type.
“We’re going to need you,” she breathed out. “Stay with us.”
Two hours and six units of blood later, I restlessly sat in the waiting room, my unhinged body a bundle of nerves. What was fucking taking so long? To distract myself, I checked my iPhone; I’d turned it off while Gloria was giving birth on the street. There were now dozens of texts and messages awaiting me. One was from Blake whom I’d call later, but the great majority were from Kevin. I owed him a call. He was like a brother to Gloria; they had been through thick and thin together. He needed to know what was going on. I speed-dialed his number.
“Jaime,” he breathed into the phone. “What’s going on? Is everything okay with Gloria?”
I inhaled a gulp of air. How was I going to break the news to him? Finally, I settled on the truth. “It’s not good.”
“What do you mean?” Despair underscored his voice.
“The babies, I think, are fine. But Gloria—” My voice choked up.
“What about Gloria?” His voice rose an octave. He loved her as much as I did.
“She’s in surgery. She had a hemorrhage.”
“Fuck. I’m coming over. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” His voice was instantly tearful.
“Pray for her, Kev.” Tears dripped from my voice too.
“I am.”
*
Two long hours later, Gloria was out of surgery and recovery, and now in a small room on Cedars’s intensive care floor. She was resting in a bed, unconscious, still hooked up to a myriad of IVs and monitors. At least the oxygen mask was off her face, and I could see it in its full glory. Her sensuous full lips were slightly parted, and soft shallow breaths emanated from them. Her chest rhythmically rose and fell, her long platinum braid curling around her ravishing breasts. A serene paleness washed over her. My Gloria looked like an angel. Too much like one.
Tyrone had stopped by earlier with her things along with the little box I’d asked him to bring along. The word fear did not exist for an imposing man like Ty who’d grown up a fighter
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