Delivery Date
The Best Thing About Being a Woman
“Breathe. That’s it. Breathe for me, babe.”
My fiancée spit ice chips in my face.
“Screw you, Tina! You did this to me!” Mark rocked and rolled in the stirrups. A radiant spotlight exploded beneath his checkerboard hospital gown. His nether regions went nuclear.
“He’s crowning.”
My announcement caused a flurry of alien activity. Our appointed delivery ship was one of the finest mobile maternity wards in the entire galaxy. I spared no expense for my better half and our baby. Various whitecoats and candy stripers moved about the birthing suite with decisive purpose.
Mark was being belligerent despite my beneficence.
“It’s ripping my insides out,” he screamed.
I shushed him with a smile. Globular beads of sweat were dotting his hairline. Each wick of moisture was blotted away with my balled-up handkerchief. “That’s just the miracle of childbirth in action. Isn’t it amazing?”
He offered a counterargument. “You’re an asshole. If you had told me a person-sized sun was going to erupt from my scrotum, I promise you I would have worn protection. I need something for the pain. Please.”
The attending physician scratched his chin in contemplation. My Nordic counterpart was over seven feet tall. His looming decision left all three of us in the lurch.
“We could do a solar spinal tap,” he finally said.
“He doesn’t want the epidural,” I declared.
“Yes. I. Do.” Mark was adamant. It was definitely a demand.
I shook off the suggestion with a sharp cadence. “Dude, I’m telling you. You’ll regret it. Needle’s the size of a harpoon. Thing’s fit for Ahab. We decided a natural birth was best. Remember?”
“That was before I knew you were going to unfurl a nuclear-powered umbrella inside my urethra, you imbecile. I’m sorry, but you did not explain the process in sufficient detail.” Mark was a sweaty mess. “Will you at least hold my hand through it?”
My face scrunched. “Actually, I’m not sure I want to be in the room for the delivery.”
Mark saw red. “Excuse me?”
“It can be a traumatic sight,” I said. “Some women in my species never recover from it. I want to find you desirable again someday.”
He tried to assassinate me with his eyeballs.
“I’ll leave you two alone to discuss.” The good doctor departed with the rest of his support staff.
My future husband was hyperventilating. All the commotion caused the penlight peeking out between his legs to pulse and strobe against the opposing wall. The dance club décor made me hum a subconscious response in the silence.
“Mmm-cha-mmm-cha-mmm-cha.”
He started to seethe. “Are you being serious right now?”
“Sorry.” I smirked when I said it. My eyes dropped to the ivory tile floor in simulated embarrassment. It was an antiseptic apology.
Mark didn’t care for my lack of concern. “I’m filing for sole custody the minute this concludes.”
The implication made me snicker. “Good luck, big guy. Family courts on my planet tend to prefer native inhabitants. By intergalactic law, the baby’s also required to take my last name, so that will make it doubly difficult for you. We should probably talk about the distribution of household work at this point, as well. I need to see a little more elbow grease when we’re back home, boss. We have a baby now.”
His face vibrated into a frown. “What exactly am I getting out of this deal?
It was a perplexing inquiry. I raised both palms to put a point on the puzzlement.
“What do you mean? You get to be a dad.”
The doctor stuck his head through the door. “Did we decide?”
Mark nodded in affirmation.
“I’ll take the needle now.”
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Part I:
