“Ew, Daddy, that’s gross.”
“You think so now, but just wait.” He walked away, chuckling. I had no idea why he thought that was so funny.
Mom came over and hugged me. “Listen, now isn’t the time for you to worry about what we bought. You just take care of yourself and the baby. By the way, are you ever going to share the name?”
I was still up in the air over it and I told her so. “It’s so hard.”
“I know. Remember when you wanted me to name Anna Monroe Baby Yoda?”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. I was so in love with that.”
“I’m curious over what nickname you’ll give her. You always were one to do that.”
“Yeah, about that, no nicknames for this child.” I patted my protruding belly. “Do you think I’ll be fat afterward?”
“Yep, as fat as a pencil. You can’t even tell you’re pregnant until you turn to the side. You’ll be fine.”
“I hope I’m like you.” Mom looked great. After each baby she’d dropped right back down to where she’d been before. The funny thing was, we sort of looked alike, even though she wasn’t my birth mom. We had long blonde curly hair, and while my eyes were blue-green like Dad’s, hers were blue. I was taller like Dad, but our facial features resembled each other’s. When people told me I looked exactly like her, I never bothered to tell them she wasn’t my bio mom.
The check-in at the hospital went smoothly and I settled into my room. The doctor came in and examined me. “Looks like we’re going to have a baby.”
There was no ‘we’ in this, unless she was going to conk me out and pull the thing out of me. I grimaced through another contraction. “When can I have the epidural?”
“Soon.” She patted my leg and left.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Mom held my hand. “She probably had to call the anesthesiologist.”
“Oh.”
Dad grabbed my other hand and said, “If it gets too painful, just squeeze.”
A nurse came in and started an IV. My contractions were coming fast. She attached a fetal monitor to me and all I wanted was that stupid epidural.
“Mom, is it always this bad?”
“Sorry, but yeah.”
“Ugh, and you had more than one? Why do women ever go through this more than once?”
“You’ll figure it out later.” Mom had a serious expression, but not Dad. He went all-out with the laugh.
“Dad, you don’t get to laugh. You’re not the one who has to push out a gigantic live watermelon out of your vagina. Come to think of it, how is that even possible?”
“The human body is amazing,” Dad said.
I gave him the stink-eye. “Easy for you to say.”
The day wore on… and on… and on. Finally, some dude came in and put me out of my misery.
“What the fuck took you so long?”
“English!” Mom admonished me.
“I get that all the time,” the anesthesiologist said. “Don’t blame me, I only come in when your obstetrician calls.”
A few minutes later, I was in much better shape. “Thank you and sorry for the trash mouth.”
“Not a problem,” he said as he walked out.
The doc came back in and said, “Now that your epidural is in, things may slow down a bit.”
“I don’t care. I’ll stay here for a week as long as that pain is gone.”
“We can’t have that. It’s not good for the baby, so if things don’t progress in a couple of hours, we’ll give you something to speed things up.”
Eighteen hours later, I pushed my baby girl out. I don’t know that I could’ve done it without my mom. She was the best coach I could’ve asked for. Dad came in and beamed at the nearly seven-pound bundle I held on my chest.
“Will you tell us her name now?” he asked.
Rubbing her tiny head, I glanced up and smiled at him. “It’s Easton Sheridan Bridges.” I’d used Mom’s name as her middle name.
Mom cried.
Chapter Two
English—Six Years Later
“Hey, English, I just uploaded some photos for you to edit. These are from the shoot I did in Alaska and they’re for American Geographic,” Dad said. He’d hired me after I’d gotten my graphic arts degree. It had taken me an extra year, due to the baby. She’d been a full-time job back then.
“Got them,” I said, scrolling through the downloaded files. “Ooh, these are fantastic. How much editing do you want done?”
“Have at it and show me the befores and afters.”
Dad was a freelance photographer who was in high demand. He did jobs for magazines everywhere with his favorite shoots being of nature, animals, and gorgeous scenery. He had a knack for grabbing the perfect shots of anything his camera lens was aimed at. Ever since I was young, I’d loved working on the computer with him as he edited, but had soon become better than he was. That was when I’d known I wanted to be a graphic artist. Working for him was great because it also gave me time to do freelance work whenever I wanted. He paid me well too.
The photos made my job easy. They were pictures of the aurora borealis. I brightened some of them and changed the backgrounds on some of the others. Then I sent them to my dad.
A few minutes later he was standing in my office. “These are perfect. They almost look like they were taken from space.”
“How would you know? You’ve never been in space.”
“You know what I mean. I love them.”
“You don’t think I tweaked them too much, do you?”
“Not at all. When you’re looking at the northern lights, the colors are phenomenal. They’re perfect.”
“Hey, I never asked you. Did Mom freeze out there?” They’d gone to Alaska and Yellowknife, Canada, where they’d camped out to get the best pictures. Then they’d moved on to Iceland and Norway. Lucky for Mom, that part of the trip had been spent in luxury hotels.
“Not really. The tents were large and heated. She actually enjoyed it.”
“I’m impressed.”
Dad chuckled. “So was I. We want to take the rest of the family back out there for another trip. Want to go?”
“I’d love to and I’m sure Easton would too. As long as the tents are comfy.” I was a lot like my mom in that regard.
“How’s the little one doing in school?”
“Pretty good. I’m worried she’s bored.”
“I was the same with you, but Sheridan convinced me you were fine, even though you were smart.”
“I need to get Mom’s advice on a few things.”
Dad glanced away from the computer. “Like what?”
“There’s this kid in Easton’s class and I think he’s a bully.”
“Already, huh?”
“Yeah. Kind of sad, isn’t it?”
“You were bullied and punched the kid, if I remember correctly.”
“I did?”
“You were a tough little thing.”
“How did you make me that way? Easton is so sensitive.”