|
"Voila! Potato chips!" Ray announced, with his best Vanna White impersonation. He'd had no intention of letting Ben's first experience of potato chip shopping be limited to the gas station mini-mart's measly selection, so he'd driven them to the supermarket and led Ben to the novel territory of the 'Chips, Crackers, and Snack Foods' aisle.
Ben stopped dead and stared, with an expression that managed to combine equal parts of pleasure, terror, awe, and general confusion. This happened to be one of those massive supermarkets that prided itself on stocking every national brand, plus one or two of its own, and the rows upon rows of brightly colored foil bags made a truly staggering impression. With an effort, he managed to produce a word. "Um," he said.
Ray put a hand on his shoulder. "See anything you like?"
"Um," Ben repeated.
Ray chuckled and dropped a kiss on his cheek. "Tell you what. I've got a few things I need to pick up while we're here, so how 'bout I leave you here and you can take your time and pick out whatever you want. Then I'll meet you at one of the benches over by the pharmacy."
"Um." Ben nodded. "Sounds good, Ray."
"OK, then. See you in a bit. And I recommend the plain Lay's." Pausing at the end of the aisle to watch Ben walk towards the bags and begin to read labels, he headed for the front of the store to pick up a basket.
A few minutes later, the basket contained a carton of milk. He bagged and added three oval "sauce" tomatoes, and on impulse, tossed in a basket of early strawberries, remembering the night they'd first opened the name books and he'd teased Ben about his last name. Coffee filters, he reminded himself, and headed for the opposite end of the store.
It took him a minute to find his usual brand among the six on display, but he finally located a box on the top shelf. As he was reaching up to get it, his eye was caught by a large, bright blue plastic package peeking over the top of the shelves from the next aisle. "Huggies Ultra-Trim," he read. He stared blankly as the realization hit. In a month and a half, he would be buying those. His hand dropped to his side, coffee filters forgotten.
A month and a half. Six or seven weeks, give or take. The delivery was tentatively scheduled for the first week in May, but that would probably change as they got closerlater if the baby seemed to be doing well, in order to give her time to put on more weight; earlier if the oxygen deprivation attacks became serious. Today had been the third, and the worst.
He shook his head, not wanting to think about it. As he did so, he noticed that the diaper package was now facing him, and he wondered briefly who had turned it around. Then he realized that his body had somehow moved without his knowledge, and he was standing in the diaper aisle.
He wandered wide-eyed along the row, picking up packages and reading the descriptions, in unconscious imitation of his partner a few aisles away. Super-absorbent, hypoallergenic, size 2. Great. Two what, he wondered. Weeks? Months? Years? Two feet tall? Why the hell didn't they have a book on this somewhere? Or maybe they did... Benny would know, he thought.
"First time?" The voice startled him, and he dropped the package he was holding.
"Huh?"
The young woman's smile was sympathetic as she lifted a blue-hatted infant from the child seat of her shopping cart and bounced him in her arms. "I know the look. When Nicky here was getting ready to be born, I didn't have a clue what to get for him. We had his nursery all set up, and my sisters gave me a whole boxful of the cutest little baby clothes, but when it came to buying diapers and formula, I was totally lost. They ought to have a book on this somewhere."
"That's just what I was thinking."
The baby fussed a little, and he watched as she took a bottle of orange juice from her bag and offered him the teat. He latched on and sucked greedily. His mother looked up at Ray with modest pride and smiled at his fascination. "You ever feed one?"
He nodded. "My sisters' kids. But it's different when you're going to have one of your own."
"Mm hmm." For a moment the only sounds were the soft slurping noises of the baby in her arms and the tinny voice of the loudspeaker requesting a price check on cheese grits. Then she asked, "So, when is yours due?"
"Beginning of May. Girl," he added.
"You pick a name yet?" Nicky finished his bottle, and the woman stuck it back in her bag and hoisted him to her shoulder.
He shook his head. "We're still working on that one. How'd you pick his?" As he watched, the baby belched, a rivulet of orange drool trickling down his chin.
"We named him for his daddy," she cooed, settling the child back into his seat in the shopping cart and wiping the drool. "Nicholas Joseph Abreo Junior." The child in question smiled, revealing the first hint of a single white tooth, and waved his hands happily.
Ray smiled and nodded vaguely, unable to think of anything intelligent to say. The woman leaned over and picked up the long-forgotten package of diapers from the floor. "Anyway, you don't want these, they're way too expensive." She placed them back on the shelf. She walked a few steps and picked up another package. "These are a lot cheaper and they're just as good. I've never tried the girls' kind, of course, but they're probably about the same." She dropped the diapers into her cart.
"They have different ones for girls and boys?"
She smiled as she began to push her cart. "You've got a lot to learn. Good luck, and congratulations!" she added, and then she turned the corner and was gone.
Ray stared blankly ahead for a moment, then turned back to the shelves. Selecting a pink package that matched the blue one the woman had shown him, he added it to his basket and headed for the pharmacy.
*****
Ben was waiting on one of the padded benches in the pharmacy when Ray found him, three bags of potato chips by his side. One, he noted, was the Lay's Original Flavor he had recommended, one was the store's brand of Sour Cream n' Onion, and the last one he didn't recognize. "Oregon Style All-Natural Dill Pickle Flavored Potato Crisps," he read from the label. And he'd thought Ben had strange tastes when he *wasn't* pregnant. "Find what you wanted?" he asked.
Ben smiled and nodded. "And you?"
Ray nodded wordlessly, setting down the basket to place the chips inside. Ben saw the pink package and pulled it out in surprise. "Diapers, Ray?"
Ray sat heavily on the bench. "Yeah. They were just... there."
His partner gave him a measuring glance, taking in the situation. "Well, it's always good to be prepared, Ray. Though I must confess, I hadn't anticipated using disposable diapers. The cloth ones are much more environmentally sound and often better for the baby."
"Cloth diapers? But then you have to... wash 'em."
Ben looked at him in surprise. "Yes, Ray."
"Eew." He made a face. "Benny, nobody uses cloth diapers anymore."
"Now, that's just not true, Ray. Besides which, even if it were, not all new developments constitute progress. The rise in the incidence of diaper rash since the introduction and widespread acceptance of disposable diapers is truly astounding."
"They leak."
"All diapers leak occasionally, Ray. One must simply take precautions."
"We don't even have a washing machine. And I am NOT running out to the laundromat six times a day while you hide out at the consulate. Don't forget who's gonna be staying home with this baby."
"We'll get a diaper service. And I haven't, Ray."
"Haven't what?"
"Forgotten that you are going to be the one working at home in order to care for our child. I hadn't thought you minded, however. At the time we decided that, you seemed quite excited at the prospect."
"Oh, I am. I just didn't think it would involve washing diapers."
"Well, it won't. With a diaper service, cloth diapers hardly involve more work than the disposable variety, and you get the added benefit of knowing that you are doing the best you can for your child and for the environment."
Unable to think of any more objections, Ray conceded. "Hm. Well, we'll see."
Ben smiled. "Thanks, Ray."
"Sure. I've rummaged through dumpsters for you, this should be a piece of cake."
Recognizing Ray's show of grumbling for what it was, Ben brushed it off. "Shall we go check out?"
"Yeah." Ray pulled himself and Ben to their feet, and picked up the basket with their groceries.
"Oh, Ray, wait. Um, while we're here..." Face flaming, Ben stepped quickly to the pharmacy shelves, selected a small box, and dropped it into the basket. Ray eyed him questioningly. "Witch hazel," he answered the unspoken question. "I, ah..."
After a second's thought, Ray caught on. "Oh. 'Nuff said, Benny. Come on, let's go home."
~~~March 27, 2004~~~
"Everything is looking great," said Dr. Young, making a final note and placing her clipboard to one side. "But now, there's something we need to talk about. I should have thought about it earlier, but it never occurred to me, you being our first human subjects and all." She glanced up to see her patient clutching his partner's hand in a white-knuckled grip, both of them staring at her in alarm. She hastened to reassure them. "Oh, no, don't worry, it's nothing serious. It's just a technicality with the paperwork that we're going to be running into next month. We need to decide what to do about the birth certificate."
"Oh." They both relaxed visibly, and Ray pulled his chair over to the examining table, where he continued to hold Ben's hand loosely. Once seated, he asked, "What about it?"
"Well, as police officers, you know that birth certificates are a matter of public record. The research study that I will be submitting on this pregnancy will have your identities protected, as we agreed in the beginning, to protect the child's future. However, if we then go ahead and write both of your names as her parents on the birth certificate, anyone who looks it up has the chance of turning her life into one big media circus."
"So what other options are there?" Ben asked.
"The best way I can see would be to treat it as an adoption. Probably the safest route, with the least traceable information, would be to treat the situation as though the two of you were the adoptive parents of an abandoned child, forego the birth certificate, and leave the adoption papers as the legal proof of identity. Or we could treat it as a closed adoption, fill out the birth certificate with all of the usual information, list both of you as birth parents, and restrict the information, creating a second document for general use that lists you as adoptive parents only, or one as the birth father and the other as adoptive father."
They glanced at each other, then back at her. "Could we get back to you on this?" Ray asked.
"Oh, of course, take your time. This is something that the two of you are going to need to discuss and decide together. And there's no real hurry, the decision doesn't need to be made until the baby's born."
"Thank you kindly for letting us know."
"Oh, no, really I should have realized that this would be a problem and warned you a long time ago, so that we wouldn't have to deal with it at the last minute like this. I really am sorry."
"It's no problem," Ray said, helping Ben off the table. "We'll take care of it."
"All right," she smiled uncertainly, then became businesslike. "Now, Ben, I really want you to watch those oxygen attacks. You say you've had five so far, and they seem to be getting closer together. Are you sure you're not overextending yourself?"
"I don't believe so," Ben replied, his voice slightly muffled by the curtain behind which he was changing back into his street clothes. "However, I will try to do better. Is there any chance that the attacks are doing her any permanent damage?"
"There is a possibility of some slight brain damage if they continue, or if they become prolonged. I'm not seeing any warning signs of it yet, so I think we're OK so far, but I can't overemphasize the importance of you taking it easy. If this keeps going the way it has been, we're looking at having to confine you to bed or at least to a wheelchair for the last few weeks."
"I'm sure that won't be necessary," Ben replied.
She heard Ray's voice answering him from behind the curtain. "I sure hope not. I'm gonna have to live with you."
"And just what do you mean by that?"
"Hey, Benny, no offense. It's just that you don't take real well to captivity."
"Hmph."
"What? You don't!"
"As I recall, neither do you. Or have you forgotten the gift-wrapped package of earplugs left on my tray by the nurses on the third day we were hospitalized together?"
"All right, all right. Just put your shirt on already. Here."
Smiling, Dr. Young left the room.
~~~April 10, 2004~~~
True to his word, Ben tried his best to do as little as possible. He called Ray if anything needed lifting, walked slowly, and rested frequently. He spent several hours each day lying in bed, rotating from one side to the other as each position in turn grew unbearable. It took him three days to crack.
After a lifetime of chasing animals and criminals on foot through all terrains, in every kind of weather, for days and sometimes weeks at a time, Benton Fraser found his normally abundant energy quadrupled by the hormones of late pregnancy coursing through his veins. And there was absolutely nothing he could do to burn it off.
He walked laps around the apartment, which had suddenly shrunk to about the size of a public bathroom stall, until Ray complained that it was making him dizzy and he couldn't concentrate on his work. After that, he tried to do his walking up on the rooftop patio, but had to give it up when he discovered that walking up the stairs induced an oxygen attack. Remembering a book he had once read on yoga, he spread a towel on the bedroom floor and attempted to lower himself onto it, then had to be helped back up. In desperation, he convinced Ray to take him to the library, where he checked out a pile of books and a few videos on exercising during pregnancy. After a bit of trial and error, he managed to develop a few routines that worked for him, and he practiced them for hours on end, forcing himself to stop every fifteen minutes and rest.
He did the same when Ray took him out to various parks in the afternoons, stopping at every bench they came to. They both enjoyed these walks, circling slowly around the footpaths together in the warm spring sunshine, talking about everything from the wildflowers they passed to possible leads on Ray's latest cases to the probable color of their daughter's eyes. To Ben, they were his strongest connection to sanity, and he prolonged them as much as possible, often lingering until the gathering twilight forced them to return to the apartment.
In spite of his best efforts, however, the oxygen attacks continued. They varied from a slight twinge, when he pushed himself a little too hard in his aerobics, to one serious scare that had Ray's thumb hovering over the clinic's speed-dial setting on his cell phone until the pain went away on the fourteenth second. That one had happened while they were setting up the crib a friendly neighbor had loaned them, when Ben had gotten so involved in the task that he'd forgotten to take his usual enforced breaks. After that, they'd been even more careful.
They brought the subject up at their next appointment with Dr. Young, and she prescribed a mild sedative for Ben to help him relax a bit and relieve his frantic drive for movement. He took one as soon as they arrived at home, and retired to the bedroom for a nap, foregoing even his afternoon walk. That night was Easter midnight mass, and he was determined not to make Ray break with tradition and miss it, so he was saving his energy.
Even with the sedative, he was fighting the urge to pace long before it was time to get dressed. Going to the closet and removing all of his maternity tops, he forced himself to sit on the bed while he went through them one by one, trying to decide which was the most formal. He finally settled on the light blue one, which Ray said matched his eyes. At ten o'clock, he slipped it on and walked out into the dining room where his partner sat at the computer, coffee in hand, idly checking his email.
"Ray? Aren't you going to get dressed?"
Ray looked up, surprised. "Huh?"
"Mass begins at eleven-thirty. It's ten now."
"Benny? Are you sure you're up to it? I hadn't planned on going this year."
"We always go to midnight mass. It's one of the conditions your mother set on my joining the family, remember?"
"Benny, it's OK. You're eight and a half months pregnant. I'm sure both God and Ma will understand."
"Ray, I feel fine. Really. And I've been looking forward to this. Why do you think I've been sleeping all day?"
"Well, if you're sure..." Ray hesitated.
"I'm sure. Go get dressed." After a final pause to see if he'd change his mind, Ray went.
*****
When they'd first moved to Atlanta, they'd attended a Catholic church, but after the first few months, the commute had gotten to be too much for them, and they'd switched to an interdenominational church a few minutes away. Due to the neighborhood, well over half of the congregation was homosexual, and Ben and Ray had been welcomed with open arms. Sunday mornings were usually a blend of traditions, with additional celebrations taken from one or another when they differed.
Tonight's service was done in the Anglican tradition, which was close enough to the Catholic to be familiar, but with enough subtle differences that Ray had to keep a close eye on the prayer book. Ben, who had been raised Anglican, recited it from memory.
They had taken the pew closest to the back door, knowing that the odds were that Ben would have to excuse himself and use the restroom long before the service was over. Everything went well at first. After about half an hour, though, the heat and the heavy scent of incense began to take their toll on Ben, and he grew increasingly light-headed. Determined not to interrupt the service, he summoned all the reserves that had kept him standing sentry for hours at a time in the summer sun, and went gamely on. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply and clenched and unclenched his calf muscles to force more blood back to his brain. The feeling passed.
The crisis came when they stood for the Prayers of the People. Ray heard his voice falter as they responded to the lines read by Father Doris. He gave him a worried glance, but Ben smiled reassuringly at him, and he continued. "For all who work for-- are you all right?" he broke off as Ben swayed slightly.
"...and peace. Fine, Ray."
"You don't look fine. For the victims of hunger, fear-- sit down-- and oppression."
"It's just hot in here-- for those who minister to the sick..."
"...the friendless, and the needy-- Benny, I'm not kidding."
"Ray, really, it's just the heat. I'll be all right-- and all who seek the Truth."
"Benny, sit down before you fall-- all who serve God in his-- Benny?" Ben had suddenly collapsed into the pew with a thud, and his face had gone alarmingly white. A faint sheen of perspiration had broken out on his forehead.
"Ray, shh, please. I just need some air."
The couple next to them was beginning to look worried, and Ray didn't argue. "All right," he whispered. "Come on." Grateful that the door was only a few steps away, he pulled Ben to his feet, wrapped an arm around his waist, and helped him through it just as the congregation came to the last line.
"Hear us, Lord; for your mercy is great."
*****
Ben managed to hold himself upright until the church door closed behind them. As soon as the latch clicked, he collapsed in Ray's arms with a tiny cry of pain.
"Benny!" Ray clutched at him as he sank down onto the stone steps. He yanked his cell phone from his jacket pocket, flipped it open, and had just dialed 911 when he felt Ben's hand close around his wrist.
"Ray, no! We can't call an ambulance. The paramedics will know."
"Benny, let go!" He could hear the dispatcher's voice crackling on the other end of the line, and he struggled to answer, but Ben's grip held firm.
"Ray. We are only a few minutes from the clinic. The ambulance won't be any faster than the Riviera." Ray stared at him, undecided. "Ray, we don't have time to argue. Get the car. Now!"
Making up his mind in an instant, Ray dropped the phone and took off for the car at a dead run. Stretching as far as possible, Ben picked it up. He hung up on the emergency dispatcher and speed-dialed Dr. Young's pager instead. He closed the phone just as the Riviera screeched to a halt, one front wheel pulled up on the curb at his feet.
Ray jumped out, flung open the passenger door, and helped him down the rest of the steps and into the front seat. Pausing only to buckle him in securely and recline the seat as much as possible, he was back behind the wheel, and with his old police light flashing on the dashboard, they took off down the road.
"I paged the doctor," Ben said, between breaths.
"Good. How's the pain?" Ray took a corner at top speed, flinging out an arm to protect his partner.
"Better." He inhaled and exhaled sharply, massaging his own abdomen gently. "It's just a dull ache now."
"Good. Hang on, Benny. Just... hang... on." He swung the car into the clinic's parking lot, not caring that he was taking up two parking spaces as he cut the motor. He switched off the headlights automatically, but forgot the police light, which cast a weird red glow over everything as he pulled Ben from the car.
Three figures in medical scrubs met them halfway to the door with a gurney, and Ben allowed himself to be loaded onto it without protest, which only worried Ray more. He was whisked down the hall into the body of the hospital and into an unfamiliar room, and the doors were closed, shutting Ray out. He pressed his hands to the cold metal for a moment, then turned around at the sound of footsteps close behind him. Dr. Young was there, her hair pulled roughly back from her face, dressed in rumpled scrubs that looked as though they'd been slept in. He clung to her.
"How is he, Doc? Please."
"I don't know yet, Ray. This could be serious, or it could be nothing. You have a seat out here," she guided him to a chair, "and give me a minute. I'll go find out what's going on, and then I'll come back out here and I'll tell you, all right?" He nodded in agreement, unable to respond, and she turned and hurried into the room, the door swinging shut behind her.
He stared at that door for what seemed like days before it opened and Dr. Young returned. She now wore a surgical mask pulled down around her neck, and her face was serious.
Ray jumped to his feet. "He's all right, isn't he? He's all right. And the baby. They're both all right, aren't they?"
"Shh, Ray, calm down. They're both alive, and the doctors are doing everything they can to make sure that everything is all right. He's had a partial abruption-- that's when a piece of the placenta tears away from the uterine lining, or in this case, from Ben's abdominal wall. Now, in this case we were very lucky, and only a very small piece actually detached. The bleeding has been stopped, and they're both stable. The next few hours, though, are going to be touch and go. If more of the placenta detaches, we'll have to perform an emergency C-section and deliver the baby prematurely."
"Will she live?" It was barely a whisper.
"Her chances are very good. We're going to try to stick it out for the full term if we can, since she's still awfully small for her age. But I've seen smaller ones pull through, and a lot younger. We'll know by morning." She placed her hand on the door. "Will you be all right out here?"
He nodded, and she turned to go. Then he found his voice. "Hey, Doc." She paused and turned back to him. "Promise me one thing. Benny's life comes first."
She looked him steadily in the eyes as she answered. "I promise that we will not do anything to endanger him unnecessarily."
He closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and sank back into his chair. When he opened them again, she was gone.
~~~April 11, 2004~~~
By three o'clock, Ben had been moved up to ICU, and Ray was finally allowed in with him. The shock that had nearly immobilized him earlier had worn off, and he paced desperately up and down the hall, stopping every time he passed Ben's door to peer inside and see if he had woken up. Every so often he would go into the room and sit beside the bed and hold Ben's hand pressed against his lips, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Ben's sleeping face. After a few hours, he noticed that the light was changing, and he got up to watch the sun rise.
Ben stirred, and his eyes fluttered slowly open to see the familiar form of his partner silhouetted against the pale blue and gold of the morning sky. He smiled sleepily. "Ray."
Ray turned to him quickly, the lines of worry on his face rearranging themselves into a smile that made the glowing Eastern horizon seem dark. "Well, he has risen."
Ben made a slight huffing noise and closed his eyes, too tired to laugh at the play on the traditional Easter greeting.
"You want some water?"
Ben nodded, and Ray brought over a glass with a bent straw. He sipped gratefully, then his hand strayed to the mound of his stomach. "Is she...?"
"She's fine. You two scared me last night, though."
"What happened?" He continued to run his hand lightly over the blankets.
"Part of the placenta detached from your abdominal wall. They got the bleeding stopped and the baby's doing fine."
"That's good." Ben took another sip of water, laid his head back on the pillow and stared up at the ceiling.
"You doing all right?"
"Mm-hmm." Ben nodded and resumed his contemplation of the ceiling.
Ray glanced uncomfortably around him, at a loss for anything to do or say. "I, uh, I guess I should call the nurse or somebody and let them know that you're awake."
"All right, Ray."
With a last lingering glance, Ray stepped out into the hallway. The hospital was beginning to wake up, and he didn't have to go far to find an intern beginning the morning rounds. He called softly, and the intern hurried over. "Is everything all right?"
"I think so. He's just waking up, and I wasn't sure if I should let somebody know, or what."
"Well, you did the right thing." He picked up the clipboard from the rack on the door. "Ah, Dr. Young's pet patient. I'm supposed to page her as soon as he wakes up." He picked up a telephone and dialed a few numbers, then hung up. "She should be here in a couple of minutes. In the meantime, I'll come check him out."
Ray led the way back into the room, and Ben turned his head as they approached the bed. "Hey, Benny." Ben smiled at him and turned his attention to the white-coated figure who now addressed him.
"Good morning, sir," he said over the clipboard as he quickly scanned the pages. "Dr. Young is on her way. I'm Dr. Lane." Finding all the information he needed, he lowered the clipboard and looked at him directly. "So, how are you feeling this morning?"
"Fairly well, actually. Though I would like to use the restroom, if you don't mind."
"You want me to get you a bedpan?"
"Er, no, I'd prefer... I think I can get up."
"Oh, no you don't. Dr. Young would have my head on a plate if I let you get out of that bed without her OK. I can get you a pan, or if you think you can hold it, you can wait and see what she says."
Ben thought hard, biting his lower lip. "I think I'll wait."
"All right. Just let me get a few numbers, then." He wrote down the readings on the various monitors around the bed, took Ben's pulse, and was listening intently through his stethoscope as he measured his blood pressure when the door opened and closed softly and Dr. Young entered the room. Careful not to interrupt her colleague, she walked quietly over to Ray.
"How is he?"
"He seems pretty good. A little quieter than usual, maybe."
"Hmm." Dr. Lane had removed the stethoscope from his ears and was writing down the result on the clipboard. "Morning, Ben, Josh. What have we got?" She took the clipboard from the young man's hands. "Looking good. Thanks, Josh. You can go finish your rounds. I'll take over from here." With a final smile and a nod, Dr. Lane disappeared back into the hall.
"So, Ben, you gave us quite a scare last night. You want to tell me what happened?"
Ben's eyes returned to the ceiling. "I didn't know what was wrong. It didn't feel like the other attacks. I thought it was just the heat. I guess I just... pushed too hard."
"It's all right, Ben. You didn't know. Everything's under control now."
"Will it be necessary to...deliver her prematurely?"
"It's a possibility. I don't think we're going to have to do it right away, though. Her vitals are good, and I think we can stick it out. You might even be able to go home tomorrow, or even this afternoon if we're lucky. However, I'm afraid this does mean you'll have to go on complete bed rest for the remainder of the pregnancy."
He nodded his assent. "I have to use the restroom."
"Bedpan or urinal?"
"Can't I, ah..."
"Sorry. Maybe in a couple of hours, we'll see how you're doing and you might be able to make it with a walker. But for the time being, you'll have to stay in bed."
After a mute supplication to Ray, he gave in. "Urinal."
*****
Ben was released from the hospital at four o'clock that afternoon with an array of mild sedatives, an oxygen tank and mask, and strict instructions to use both. They had also received the loan of a bedpan, with the understanding that Ben was allowed to walk to the bathroom as long as everything continued normally. At the first sign of pain, however mild, even that short walk would be off limits, and he would have to use the pan.
Ray helped him from the car to the apartment, silently giving thanks for the thousandth time for the absence of stairs to climb, and to the bathroom, and then settled him in their bed. Propping him up with all the pillows in sight, he made sure that the TV remote, Ben's latest stack of library books, and a bottle of juice were all within easy reach before returning to the car to bring in the rest of the supplies.
Ben lay quietly watching as Ray left, then turned to the pile of library books. He ran a finger down the bindings, reading the titles dully. None of them appealed to him in the slightest, and he dropped his hand back onto the bedspread. Passively allowing himself to be moved by the influence of gravity, he found himself staring straight ahead at the blank television screen. Four workout videos in their brightly colored cardboard sheaths mocked him from the top of the VCR.
He turned blindly towards the sound of the door opening, and Ray staggered in with the oxygen equipment and the bedpan and the box of medication, smiling the too-cheerful smile reserved for the sick and housebound. "Hey, Benny. I kinda feel like a cross between Santa and a pack mule, here."
Ben lifted the corners of his lips in a pathetic attempt at a return smile. Ray set everything down on the dining room table and climbed onto the unoccupied side of the bed. Pulling the unresisting body into his arms, he laid his head on the pillow and gazed into the beloved blue eyes. "Hey." He stroked the dark hair gently, and slowly the emptiness left Ben's face. He kissed his forehead, and Ben closed his eyes and snuggled into his neck with a real smile.
His next words, almost the first he had spoken since they'd left the hospital, were slightly muffled by Ray's shirt. "I'm sorry. I suppose I've just been feeling sorry for myself."
"Hey, it's OK. I'd be feeling sorry for myself too, if I were stuck in bed for the next coupla weeks. You're handling it a lot better than I would."
Ben shook his head, joggling Ray's chin. "Not really. Just more quietly."
"Hey!" He tightened his embrace, absurdly pleased at the joke. After a minute of silence, he added, "So... you, uh, wanna get some sleep or something?"
Ben sighed. "Ray, I have had twenty-seven hours of sleep in the last forty-two. I doubt I could sleep if I tried."
"Oh. Well... what do you wanna do?"
Ben pulled away slightly, rolling onto his back, then back onto his side almost immediately as his daughter's weight pressing down on his internal organs became uncomfortable. He tucked one hand beneath his head and intertwined the fingers of the other with Ray's. His eyes stared blankly at a point several miles beyond Ray's left shoulder. "I don't know. Run a marathon? Swim the English Channel?" He met Ray's gaze and smiled self-mockingly.
Ray returned the half-smile. "How about something the doc won't have my butt in a sling for?"
He sighed again, more deeply than before. "I don't know, Ray. I don't feel like reading, or sleeping, or watching television. I want to do something, but I don't want to do anything. Does that make any sense?"
Ray smiled at him and rubbed his thumb over the back of the hand he was holding. "Yeah, Benny. It's called boredom. Most of us are used to it."
"So, what do you do about it?"
"I dunno. It's just something you learn to deal with, I guess. I mean, how did you keep from getting bored on sentry duty?"
"Sentry duty only lasted four hours at a stretch, Ray, and we were usually working on a case at the time, so I was able to engage my mind by exploring leads and going over evidence in my mind. Now..." he trailed off.
"You want me to check the computer, see if we've got anything?"
"Would you?"
"Sure." He disentangled himself, rolled off the bed, and retrieved his laptop from the dining room. Plugging it in, he resettled himself next to Ben and waited for the system to start up. "Okaaaayyy... we've got... an email from Francesca, looks like I gotta tell her again not to use this address... two spams from Lifeminders.com, this has gotta be the third or fourth time I've tried to unsubscribe to something I never subscribed to in the first place... nope, no new cases. Criminals must be taking Easter off."
Ben grunted noncommittally and took a sip of his juice. "So, what does your sister have to say?"
"Let's see... she says the twins are almost over that cold they were having, Silvia spilled purple Easter egg dye all over herself in her new dress, Tino's starting to look at colleges, and Ma wants to know if it's OK to fly in on the first so they can be here for the delivery."
"Have they decided yet who is coming?"
"She doesn't say, but I'm guessing it'll just be Ma and probably Frannie. Somebody's going to have to stay and look after the kids."
"Mm." Ben tried to stretch out, then recurled. "That will be nice. They might want to consider an earlier flight, however. I'm not at all sure we'll make it to the first."
"You think we're going to have to go early?"
"Call it a hunch, Ray. I just don't think this child is willing to wait that long."
Ray was immediately on full alert. "Is she...?"
"She's fine, Ray. I think our earlier talk about marathons has given her ideas."
Ray grinned and extended a hand, asking permission with his eyes. Ben gave it, pulling up his shirt and proffering his belly. He ran his hand over the curved surface, loving the feeling of movement beneath his fingers.
After a moment, Ben looked up at him and smiled. "See, I told you, she's just fine. But she isn't going to wait three weeks."
"And you?"
"I'll manage somehow."
"We."
Ben covered Ray's hand with his own. "I stand corrected. We'll manage somehow."
~~~April 14, 2004~~~
"Whatcha doin, Benny?" Ray asked, over the pounding strains of Khatchaturian's Sabre Dance.
Ben raised an eyebrow in his direction without looking up. "Three, four, hi Ray, seven, eight, crocheting, link, one, two, did you get what you needed?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah." He couldn't take his eyes off the line of light green yarn that was slowly being transformed under Ben's capable fingers into what looked like a potholder. There was a small pile of matching, completed potholders on the spread next to him. "Are you, uh... what *are* you making?"
"Nine, ten." Ben finished his row and laid down his work, then reached out and turned down the CD player. "I'm working on a blanket for the baby. What do you think of this color? I wasn't sure, exactly, but I didn't want to use pink and play into the cultural stereotypes of gender identities. So I thought maybe green, as a nice, neutral color..."
"Green's nice." Ray picked up a completed square and fingered the soft material. "Nice work. Where'd you, uh, get the stuff?"
"Mrs. Kobeszko brought it over."
"The one who lent us the crib?"
Ben nodded, resuming his work. "She stayed for quite a while and helped me to make the first few pieces. She seemed grateful for the company; I don't think she's made many friends yet."
Ray hmm'd sympathetically. "She hasn't figured out that you're... you know... has she?"
Ben blushed. "I asked her to call me Jenny. In a way, we were extremely lucky that she didn't move in until I was already obviously pregnant. I still wish that the subterfuge weren't necessary, however."
"Yeah, so do I. I'm surprised none of the other neighbors have been asking questions, the ones that were here when we moved in."
"People will see what they expect to see, Ray. I should think that if they considered the matter at all, they would conclude that either they were mistaken about my gender, or that your wife has a brother who looks remarkably like her and who stayed to help us move in."
"Yeah. It just seems weird, you know, like everybody oughta be able to look at us and know exactly what's going on. It's hard to realize that the rest of the world wouldn't even consider this as a possibility."
"Mm," Ben agreed. After a pause, he asked, "So, am I finally going to see what you've been searching for for the past three days?"
"Ah," Ray hopped off the bed and retrieved the paper bag he'd left on the table. "A surprise. I figured you'd need something to keep you busy while you're stuck in bed, not taking into account the generosity of lonely neighbors, so I got," he ceremonially handed over the bag, "This."
Ben opened the bag and peered inside. "A book?" He pulled it out. The cover was plain white, bordered in silver, with the words "A New Beginning" embossed in silver script. The pages inside were blank.
"It's a baby book. You know how hard it was to find one that didn't have pink and blue storks and balloons and stuff all over it? Fifteen different stores. All the clerks I asked just said stuff like 'Baby stuff is supposed to be cute' and looked at me like I'd grown a second head when I didn't want it. Anyway, you're supposed to write down what it's like waiting for the baby, what's happening, photographs, anything you might want to remember later on. Or anything you think she might want to read about when she's older. I thought maybe we could work on it together, when there's nothing on the computer."
"That's very... considerate of you, Ray." Ben smiled slightly, but his eyes were thoughtful.
"So what's the matter?"
"How are we going to explain this to her? I realize that we are not the only homosexual parents in the world, or even in Chicago, but we will be the only couple with a biological child of our own. Someday, our daughter will ask which one of us is her 'real' father."
"Benny, that's years from now."
"Possibly, but it still bears considering. She deserves to know who she is, and at what point should we tell her? If we tell her too young, she may tell others, but if we wait too long, she may feel betrayed that we kept it from her. It's a potential disaster."
"Benny, can we at least wait until she's born before we start worrying about the teenage years? We'll be fine, just slow down."
"It never hurts to be prepared, Ray."
"Oh..." he gave in. "All right. What are we going to tell our daughter when she asks which one of us is her father? Well, assuming she's already been born and potty-trained and gone to school and learned the truth about Santa and all the other minor hurdles between here and there, I say we just sit her down and say, 'Elisabeth, we'"
"Ray..."
"Oh, come on, Benny, you said you liked Elisabeth."
"I do. It's a good, solid name, with a solid grounding in tradition and plenty of nicknames to choose from. It just doesn't feel right."
"Doesn't feel right... it's a name, Benny, not a new pair of boots!"
Ben looked hurt. "Obviously, Ray. I happen to feel that names are very important. Would you, for instance, feel comfortable being called Lloyd or Bruce?"
"If I'd been called that from birth, sure. But it might have taken some getting used to if my parents had waited until I started shaving to name me."
"Now, Ray, I'm sure that we'll find the perfect name soon. Just be patient."
"Am I going crazy, or did I just tell you that about two minutes ago?"
Ben paused momentarily. "Oh. Yes."
"That does remind me, though, that we never did decide about the paperwork. Both our names go on the birth certificate, but do we want to make up adoption papers for you, or me, or both of us?"
"I don't particularly care for the idea at all, Ray. We are both her parents; pretending that we aren't seems a bit... dishonest. And I'm not entirely convinced that it's legal."
"Oh, come on, Benny. Everyone that counts will know the truth, and I'll give you a hundred to one that nobody else will ever care. This is just about you and me, protecting our daughter from one more thing that she shouldn't have to deal with. It's a precaution. And adoption papers are just something to say that we're legally her parents, which we are anyway, so it's not dishonest. I mean, sure, I'd prefer that we didn't have to pretend either, but it's not that big a deal."
"I'd like to have at least one of us listed as her birth father."
"Agreed. That'll help with the legalities, too. Somebody could make trouble about two men adopting a strange child, but if one of us is the legal father already, it'll be a lot easier. The only question is, who?"
Ben remained silent, absentmindedly pressing his stomach to rearrange a small foot that had been kicking too long in the same spot. Finally, he turned wide blue eyes to Ray, unable to voice a decision.
"It's OK, Benny. God knows, you have a better claim."
"I think... it should be you, Ray."
"Benny..."
"No. Hear me out, Ray. This has nothing to do with who deserves it more, or who has done more for her. Speaking strictly for her protection, you are the one who will be staying at home, and who will be contacted in case of emergency. You are also the one with the large family that will be an integral part of her life, while my only relative is a half-sister who lives in a different country. Should anything happen to us, she will need that family. Noone will question their rights if they are believed to be blood relatives. For you to be known as her adoptive father could weaken that claim, if it should become a legal issue."
Ray looked at him, and Ben met his eyes steadily. "Ok. For her."
"For her." Ben shifted and stuck out a hand, and they shook on it.
*****
"That one? Aw, Benny, come on, I look--"
"Excited. As well you should, Ray, considering that we'd just heard that we were going to be parents. Now, we only have three photographs from this party, and this is the only one we're both in. I think it should be in the book."
"Ohhh... fine, but I get to put in the one of you in the maternity dress."
"Ray!"
"What? You won't let me frame it, and there's no way I'm letting a prime piece of blackmail material like that bond with the dust bunnies forever. If you can put in goofy pictures of me, I get to put in goofy pictures of you."
The look he received was murderous, but he held firm. Ben stuck the party photo into the book and handed Ray the glue. Grinning in triumph, Ray sifted through the pile and extracted the Polaroid taken at the dress shop. Ben's glare wavered as he saw it, a twitch beginning at the corner of his mouth.
"All dressed up and nowhere to go," Ray commented as he turned to a fresh page.
Ben smiled and rolled his eyes, then took a deep breath and pushed himself upright. Reaching for his oxygen mask and walker, he began the trek to the bathroom. "This is one... aspect... of pregnancy... that I... will not... miss." He reached the doorknob and paused. "By my calculations, I have to urinate approximately every one hundred and twelve minutes. It's positively aggravating." He disappeared inside.
Returning to the bed a few minutes later, he asked, "Have you added anything?"
Ray shook his head. "I've been trying to think. Maybe we should each write something, like a letter or something. Or is that too corny?"
"I think it's a fine idea. Should we write them in the book, or separately?"
"I think we should write them on regular paper, seal them up, and stick the envelopes in the book so she can open 'em when she's old enough. Like, maybe we could give her this whole book when she's sixteen, to sort of explain all of this. That'll take care of what we were talking about earlier, about how and when to tell her."
"Mm," Ben agreed. "So these letters, then, will be... private?"
"Right. I won't read yours, you won't read mine. They're just between us and the baby. Whaddaya think?"
Ben raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Do you have any paper?"
*****
The next hour was filled with music and the sound of pens scratching on tablets. Ben wrote slowly, thinking out a sentence and writing it down, then pausing as he thought out the next. Ray wrote more quickly, frequently crossing out what he'd had before and replacing it with something new. Every so often, he would mutter to himself, rip off the sheet, crumple it into a ball, and start over.
"This isn't going to work," he sighed, as the fifth wad hit the trash can. Ben glanced at him mildly. "There's just so many things I want to say, and I can't say any of them the way I want to."
"Just... say what's in your heart, Ray."
"'Say what's in your heart'? What is that, some kind of Inuit advice?"
Ben shook his head solemnly, smiling with his eyes. "Nope. Yours, Ray, almost eight years ago. June 23, 1996, the day you told me you loved me."
Ray blushed and smiled back. "You always remember everything I say?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Hmph. Flattering as that may be, it doesn't help much."
"Maybe this will." He took Ray's hand and placed it over his stomach. "Lie back and close your eyes. Let go of everything but the way she feels, and the way you feel. The words will come."
Ray did as he was told, thoughts flickering over his expressive face. Finally he smiled, opened his eyes, and picked up his pen. "Thanks, Benny."
"Any time, Ray." Ben continued his own writing without a break.
Shortly afterward, Ray carefully detached the sheet, folded it, and sealed it into an envelope, making a face at the taste of the glue. Writing "From Ray," on the flap, he stuck it into the book. "You about done?" he asked.
"Hmm? Almost," Ben replied, tapping the end of his pen against his thumb.
"Hm." Ray sifted through the forgotten pile of photographs that lay between them on the bedspread. Not finding any that he wanted to add to the book, he picked up said book and leafed through it. There was a clipping from a medical journal, the one that Ben had found that had been their first contact with the male-pregnancy experiment. There was a copy, surrounded by stars, of the letter they had received informing them that they'd been selected. Next to it was the photograph he'd objected to, taken at the family party that had followed the arrival of the letter. He and Ben were standing profile to the camera, sticking out their stomachs and grinning like fools. He smiled. Ben had been right to put it in.
A few pages of writing followed, both his and Ben's, describing the arrival of the letter and their own subsequent arrival in Georgia, and their first meetings with the medical staff that had since become such an important part of their lives. There was a brief description of the actual scientific process, written by Ben, and Ray's account of the implantation.
The next page of the book was devoted to a typewritten sheet bearing the clinic's logo-- Ben's test results, confirming that the implantation had been a success and that he was, indeed, pregnant. Then there were a few notes about various events, including their trip back to Chicago at Christmastime, with a long section about the moment on Christmas Eve when Ben had first felt her move. One of the letters was crooked; as if she had known what was being written, the baby had kicked vigorously and caused Ben's hand to slip. Ray circled it and made a note in the margin to remember the story.
There were stories, written with bittersweet humor, of Ben's experiences with being mistaken for a woman. The photo from the dress shop was on the facing page, with the caption "Jenny Fraser." Ray had written the story of the midnight scare at the church and the sleepless night when everything he loved hung in the balance, and the wonderful dawn that followed when he'd found out they were going to be all right.
Their first lists of names were included, with a few tidbits about the naming debates they'd had since. Ray had once suggested naming her Jennifer, "after her mother," and Ben hadn't spoken to him for the rest of the day.
The last few pages were still blank, waiting to be filled with the stories and photos of the delivery. Everything following their return to Chicago would go into a separate album, one that could be shown to everyone, while this one would be hidden away until their daughter was old enough to see it. Sixteen years... Ray fingered the flap of the envelope that was glued inside the back cover. In another few weeks, this chapter of their lives would be closed, not to be opened again for sixteen years.
"Ray?"
He glanced up from his reverie and took the envelope that Ben was holding out to him. Gluing it into place below his own, he closed the book and laid it aside, then leaned over and kissed his partner. Ben kissed him back for a moment, then pulled away.
"Um, Ray, I have to..." he began the process of putting on his mask.
Ray grinned. "Need help?" Ben shook his head and got to his feet, and he sat back to watch, fighting the urge to help anyway. "Just a few more weeks."
~~~April 24, 2004~~~
"Ok, so, you'll come in on Wednesday afternoon for a final checkup, and we'll make sure everything is ready to go for the surgery. Then Thursday evening, you'll come and check into the hospital around six o'clock, and the operation will be performed Friday morning. Now, you know that since this is a history-making case, it will be witnessed by several members of the medical staff from this hospital and others around the country. Ray, I assume you're going to want to be in the delivery room itself, right?"
Ray nodded. "If I can."
"Of course. Now, you mentioned that you had family flying in. I can arrange for one or possibly two seats in the observation room to be reserved for them, or they can wait outside if you prefer."
Ben looked at Ray, who shrugged. "I think Ma would prefer the waiting room."
"I think perhaps that would be best," Ben agreed.
"Ok then. Keep up the good work, and I'll see you on Wednesday."
|
