First Kiss

I finally reached my front door after a long workday. Probably didn’t help that Andrew and I were up until god-forsaken hours of the night. I shuffled around my bottomless purse until I found the jingling keys in some back-alleyway of the black bag. Pulling them out, the continuous clanging felt like someone was hitting the inside of my head with windchimes. Finally, the front door gave way to the silence of our dim apartment. Andrew was still at work.

I click clacked across our entry way tiles and slid off my work shoes while leaning against the wall for support, then put on a pair of soft cotton slippers instead. I sighed. The day had gone by slowly, in five-minute increments. There are a lot of those in a nine-hour workday, and I felt as though I had counted each one. Waiting till it was time to go home and continue last night’s conversation. My stomach had been off all day, either from nerves or from lack of sleep.

Walking past the bedroom door, I peaked in to swipe my bathrobe off the door hook. The teddy bear was still there, lying on the dresser just like I left him yesterday. I sighed and felt the same tears from yesterday well up in my eyes. My chest ached with pain and shame and guilt. The scenes of last night danced in front on me. Andrew’s grin as he came in holding the bear. The most genuine happiness I’d ever seen. The hope in his eyes as pulled it out from behind his back. How his face crumpled when I didn’t respond.

I shut the door behind me, hoping to shut my emotions in with the bear, went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. It’s not fair. I tried to ration with myself. He doesn’t understand. I peeled off my corporate uniform, throwing the slacks and button up shirt onto the floor, and stepped into the shower. The hot water hit my skin, stinging a little with every drop until my body climatized. I turned around and ran my fingers through my hair. He doesn’t understand. I’d be a dad too.

I reached for my body wash in the left corner. Squeezing a bit onto my palm, I watched the clear goop spiral before disappearing into a homogenous blob. But that’s not what he’s asking for, is he. He’s asking me to be a mom. A mom. Mom. He wants me to be mom. I didn’t stop when the blob reached the sides of my hand. I didn’t stop when the blob cascaded down my forearm. All I could see were scenes of my mom.

My mom, studying in the bathroom at night because all her days were filled with us. My mom, begging our father to stay. My mom, leaving everything to us in her will.

The body wash finally reached the tip of my elbow and dripped onto my foot, breaking the trance of remembrance. I put the bottle back onto its shelf and spread the soap across my chest and stomach and on my legs.

I finished showering, feeling less nauseous and exhausted than before, all those emotions turned to sadness. What a mess. A happy family just a few days ago, our relationship had exploded with negativity and resentment since the first conversation. I couldn’t explain my fears to him. I couldn’t even understand them myself. I wrapped myself in the light blue towel handing on the door hook and began to get ready for dinner. It was Valentine’s Day, and we had made reservations at our favourite restaurant a month prior, not anticipating a cold war in our own home.

Andrew came home around 6:30. I heard the lock turn and then the front door open with a squeak. My palms started to sweat. I looked in the mirror, curious if the sadness was palpable on my face. Satisfied that it was not, I stepped out of the bedroom.

“Hey.” My greeting sounded strained instead of the casual tone I was going for.

Andrew looked up from taking off his shoes. “Hey.”

We stood frozen, a hallway and our pain separating us. For a few seconds, no one moved. Then Andrew went back to his shoes.

“I’m sorry.” I blurted out, surprising myself with how loud the words were. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Andrew looked at me once again, his eyes looked dull. “I’m sorry too.”

He hung his coat in the closet and walked into the kitchen. I followed. If I didn’t, I felt like he might walk forever. Past our kitchen, right out the back door, through the fence and out of my life. He would walk and walk until he walked into another kitchen, with another teddy bear, and a better woman.

But instead, he stopped at the counter. He put his elbows on the counter, and his head in his hands.

“I love you so much Katie. Why don’t you believe me.” He shook his head, and his forearms swayed with it. “I’m not your dad. I’m not. I’ve shown you that. I’ll be a good father. Katie…” Andrew’s voice shook.

I came over and hugged my husband. He turned around and slumped into my arms. My childhood had broken me, but it had broken him too.

“Hey” I kissed his cheek. “We’ll figure it out. I promise.” He exhaled and nodded into my shoulder. “I promise.” I ran my fingers through his dark brown curls, not knowing exactly how to keep that vow, but determined to find a way.

Andrew straightened up and wiped his face.

“We’ll make a family. I just need some more time to process.” I tried to sound as reassuring as I could. He nodded and squeezed me tight to his chest.

“I can wait.”

Leaving me with that, he went to go shower. I went to rummage through the closet for a dress to wear, trying to ignore the turmoil in my brain. I rolled black tights up my legs, left one and then right one. Focusing on the nylon threads cris-crossing over one-another. A mom…? The silk. The silk of this dress is so nice on my skin. I tried to refocus as I pulled the bright pink outfit-of-choice over my head. Andrew came in as I was brushing my hair.

“You look great, hun.” He kissed my forehead and grabbed a fresh pair of boxers out of the drawer.

Sliding on a pair of jeans and a black button up shirt, he looked at himself in the mirror and gave a nod of approval. I cheered him on,

“I’m looking great? Look at you!” I got up and walked over to the mirror to stand beside him.

“We look even better together.”

We got our coats on and headed out of the house. Andrew locked up as I called the elevator. As we got out into the parking garage, I felt my phone buzz. One missed call and a message. Both from ‘Iryna (Donation)’. I looked up at Andrew and all that came out of my stunned mouth was,

“Holy shit.”

There was no service in the garage, so I couldn’t call back the practical stranger until we were above ground. We had met a few months ago, at a donation center for refugees and newcomers to Canada. I was dropping off donations from a local drive, and she had recently come from Ukraine. After driving her home that day, we exchanged numbers in case she needed anything. But she never did. Until last week. When she asked for a very specific favour, should the time come.

My phone started buzzing again as soon as we were past the garage gates. My chest tightened. I looked at Andrew,

“What do I do?”

He shrugged, “Pick it up.”

I hit the green button. In Ukrainian, Iryna said in a rather calm voice over the speaker,

“Hey, are you busy?”

I replied hesitantly,

“Not really?”

“Well, I’m in labour. And, uh, my husband is at work, and well.” She groaned. “Well, he’s not picking up his phone.” Iryna’s pace picked up, “I tried to take a taxi, but I can’t figure out the app, and. And, I was going to take the bus, but I don’t think I’ll make it there in time Katia.”

My eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. I translated the absurd statement to my husband, and watched his eyes expand too.

“Please for the love of god do not take the bus.” I had to address most outrageous suggestion first. “We will come get you.” I glanced over at Andrew, already mapping the route on his phone. “We’ll be there in eighteen minutes, can you wait?”

“Yes, yes thank you. I need to go to Michael Garron Hospital.”

She hung up, leaving me and Andrew in complete shock.

“I didn’t think it would happen.” Is what came out of my mouth. “I just, like, said ‘yes’, you know? When she asked me earlier. I don’t know what to do. Do you? Like, what happens now?”

“No idea.” Andrew replied, sounding just as worried as me. “We go to the hospital, and they’ll tell us, right?”

“Right. I think so? We should call them. Let’s call them. We should call them.” I picked up my phone from my lap and found the number for the hospital.

“What’re you going to ask them?”

I hadn’t thought this part through yet, but the phone was already ringing. Luckily, when the call connected, a pre-recorded menu of options gave me plenty of time. After a few minutes of waiting, I was finally connected to a real human.

“Michael Garron Hospital.” She said, her hurried tone feeling appropriate for the situation. I tried to talk quickly too,

“Hey, uh so we have a pregnant woman, and she’s, she’s in labour.” I paused for a reaction from the woman on the line, but not surprisingly, none came. “We were just wondering where do we go when we get to the hospital? What door do we go to?”

“Go in the front door and go to triage. They’ll help you.” She hung up. I pressed my lips together. this admittedly wasn’t my finest moment. Fair enough.

When we got to Iryna’s address, she was already waiting downstairs with a bag packed, but not zipped. She was in a long black coat, standing facing a bench by the building, her hands on the back of it for support. As we pulled up beside her, she turned around and started to try to bend down for the bag.

Both of us leapt out of the car, leaving the doors open. I got to her bag before she did, but mostly because she had already given up. Andrew put his arm around Iryna and slowly helped her waddle to the car. She got into the passenger side, carefully lowering herself into the seat and finally settling at an angle. With Andrew in the back, we took off to the hospital. It was across the city, but that’s where she was registered.

Iryna gripped the car door so hard it creaked.

“You ok?” I asked, trying to sound cheerful and calm. She groaned and scrunched her face up in pain, backing up into the seat behind her, but she still nodded. A few seconds later she sighed and said,

“Yeah. I’m good. How much longer?” Iryna closed her eyes again. I looked at my phone, which said forty-two minutes, and back up at the stand still traffic. There must have been an accident.

“Eh, like thirty to thirty-five minutes.” Hoping that was somehow better than the truth, I asked her about her first daughter. And then about her week and what she did today, trying to distract her. She played along where she could, telling me quick summaries between contractions.

We got to the hospital at half past eight. Iryna got out of the car, with our help, slowly unwrapping her fingers from their grasp on the car door. But, after a few steps she stopped and dropped her hands to her knees. Groaning, she rocked back and forth. We tried to help her up, but she waved us off.

And so, like this, we made our way to the front door. Iryna would need to stop, we would make sure she’s ok, and we’d walk a bit more.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I smelled the hospital air. We were safe. Whatever happened from here, someone who knew something was not too far off.

Hobbling further into the building, Andrew and I on either side, Iryna made it to the triage center. She leaned on the back of the waiting room seats, Andrew sitting to the left of her. I went to the nurse’s window.

“Are you registered?” A woman in her thirties looked at me, expressionless, holding her phone.

“Yes, I think.”

“You think? If you’re not registered it’s going to be a whole process…What’s your name?”

“Her name, my friend, is Iryna Petrenko” I said, gesturing towards Iryna who was leaning on the seats behind me. The woman pursed her lips and put her phone down. She got up and opened a file drawer and started sifting through it.

“She’s not here.” The woman had gotten most of the way through the files. She walked back to the desk and started typing something into the computer.

“How do you spell that?”

“P-e-t-r-e-n-k-o” I tried not to panic, but I felt sweat bead up on my forehead. Iryna groaned in the background.

“P-e-t…?” the woman at the computer looked up at me, expectantly. My heartbeat quickened. I put my hand on my phone deciding in that moment, that if Iryna gave birth in this hallway, I was going to sue everybody in this place to absolute obliteration. Especially this computer lady.

“P-e-t. R-e-n.” My voice turned into a desperate bark. The computer lady raised her eyebrows,

“Please calm down ma’am.” She looked back towards her computer “P-e-t…?”

“R.E.”

“Oh Barbara!” Computer lady swiveled away from her desk, looking behind me. I followed her gaze. Another employee had walked into the room, putting some papers down on the desk.

“Hey Suzy. How’s it going?” The new lady walked over to the computer, and after a bit of chatting, computer lady got up, and said,

“I’m off, Barbara's on shift now. It’s going to be ok. Good luck!”

I looked at Barbara with exhaustion, and reexplained the situation. Iryna groaned in the background for effect. Once I got to the file not being in the cabinet, Barbara stopped me. She got up, and walked all the way to the back, knelt down and opened the bottom drawer. She flipped through a few loose pages, pulling one of them out.

“Iryna Petrenko. From Ukraine.” She turned over the page. “Yep, got her tests too. That’s good. Ok. Let’s take a look Iryna.”

A mixture of joy and relief welled up in my throat. I helped Iryna into a room, where Barbara gave her a teal paper robe to put on and instructed her to lie down onto the bed in the draped off area. She came back after a few minutes, and after yanking the curtain shut behind her, she peeked under Iryna’s hospital gown.

“Oh. Yup. You’re having a baby honey. You’re having a baby right now. Ok.” Barbara ran back out, not worrying about the curtain this time. She came back and asked Iryna,

“Did you have any complications with your first baby?”

Iryna looked at her blankly, then turned her head to me. I translated the question.

“Some bleeding” Iryna answered, in Ukrainian. I translated the answer back to Barbara. She nodded and wheeled the bed with Iryna out of the room and down the hallway. I ran after them.

She stopped in another room, this one with much more white hospital equipment and a padded bench for people like me. I put Iryna’s bags in a corner of the room, and turned around to see two doctors running in. One woman was in her mid-fifties with grey hair, and the other looked a bit younger, with brown hair. They took some notes, started to ask some questions, but when Iryna’s groans got louder, the notebooks went away. The rest I only remember in pieces.

They told her to push. I told her to push. She pushed.

I took my sweater off and threw it onto the bench.

They told her to push. She pushed. I told her to push. 

They said hold her leg. I held her leg.

She pushed. I yelled push to the doctors in Ukrainian.

Then all together very suddenly, a head appeared. And then a baby. A tiny, wrinkled baby girl with a full head of dark black hair.

Iryna lay in bed, regaining her breath and her senses. Meanwhile I stood absolutely motionless, dumbfounded by the meaningfulness of life. I stared at this brand-new human, so small and yet full of possibilities. So much future in one tiny package. So much love and pain and laughter that hasn’t happened yet. She would learn to walk. She would go to school. She would make friends. She would lose friends. She would have her first kiss and her first heart break. And eventually, she would grow into an adult.

The love was tangible in the room. I felt myself both a spectator and a participant. So close to tenderness that was not mine. I thought of Andrew, in the waiting room, nervously waiting for me. Always supportive. I thought of all my worries and fears, which seemed so big before but now, with this tiny human seemed irrelevant.

The doctor put the baby onto Iryna’s chest, and she lay back, exhaling.

She held her tiny head up with her elbow and looked into her eyes.

Smiling through tears, Irina kissed her daughter for the very first time.