8.17: Labor and Platonic Love

  

 "Hey, um, Maya, can I talk to you?" I asked, glancing down at my feet.

   "You already are." She pointed out, as she set down her ice cream tub and spoon. I imagine being pregnant sucks, with the whole growing a mini human inside yourself for nine month thing, yet Maya made it seem like it was just eating ice cream and buying new clothes because her old ones didn't fit.

   "I know. Um... Remember when I went to Vegas?"

   "And I called you to tell you about this," she gestured towards her eight and a half month sized bump, "and you acted like a total idiot?"

   "In my defense, I was pretty smashed, with the shots and pot and all."

   "Please." She snorted. "You're just as stupid sober. Exhibit A." She gestured to the bump once more.

  "Yeah, yeah." I sighed.

   "Oh, I'm only kidding." She smiled. "You know that. So what did you want to tell me?"

   "Well, when I was in Vegas, I sorta did this thing that I'm not exactly proud of..."

   "Get a tattoo?"

   "Yes, but that isn't the hing I'm talking about."

   "Wait, you really got a tattoo?" I nodded. "Let me see!" 

   "Here." I lifted up my shirt slightly, exposing my whole back tat.

   "Oh my gosh." She giggled. "How did I not manage to see that before?"

   "I don't know." I laughed along with her. 

   "So what's the thing you were talking about?"

   "I got married."

   "Haha! Right. No, seriously, what is it?"

   "I got hitched."

   "Harbor, stop, really what did you do? You knock another girl up, because I'll be pissed at first, but I'll get over it. I mean, we decided to stay not together, so if you were worried I'd get jealous or something, I'm fine. Oh! Did you get a girlfriend? Go to a strip club?"

   "Maya, I got married."

   "Wait... You're serious?" I nodded, glancing down at my feet, then back up to her. "Okay. To who?"

   "Delilah Alice Rosewood-Janes."

   "Where is she?"

   "Las Angelus."

   "Did you get an annulment or something?"

   "Nope."

   "So you're still married?"

   "Yep."

   "But you haven't seen her in eight months and don't appear to be planning on moving in together."

   "Yep."

   "Are you kidding me?"

   "Nope."

   "Oh dear… so what's the plan?"

   "In four years," then I launched into the story, telling her all the details of what happened the night be got married and how we'd meet back up in four years.

   "That's rom-com level ignorant." She sighed. "But does seem like something you'd do and is kinda cute, in a wow, they're clueless way."

   "Thank you?"

   "You're welcome."

   "In four years, I want to meet this girl."

   "She isn't a girl, she's a woman. She's twenty-six."

   "Ah a younger-" She paused, staring at me.

   "Maya?" I asked. "Maya, what's- oh wait." I glanced at the puddle she was sitting in. "Let's get to the hospital."

   "Smart man." She laughed. "Two kids and now he can perfectly recognize the sig- OW MY GOD. Hospital. OUCH. HOLY MOTHER OF-" And with that I helped lift her off of what was thankfully her, not my, couch and waddle to the car.

   A short period of time later, she was in a hospital room and I was standing next to her, as she screamed and screamed about how much it hurt and the doctor ordered her to push, push, push and oh look the head. I love my children, my I have to admit childbirth is disgusting. Getting to hold the child for the first time, beautiful, but the actually bringing it into the world? Gross.

   "GAH! Ow, ow, ouch, ow FUDGE."

   "Push, push, push! Almost out!" The doctor exclaimed.

   "I FUDGE, FUDGE, FUDGE, forgot how much this OW OW, OUCH hurt." Maya screamed. "Even with the drugs."

   "Just one more push!"

   "Just one more-" I repeated, as Maya's heave interrupted me.

   "GAH AH!"

   "Congratulations!" The doctor beamed, as the baby screamed. "A bouncing baby boy. What would you like to name him?"

   "Harbor, what should we name him?" Maya whispered. Despite having eight months to prepare for this, we hadn't actually discussed first names. We'd determined he or she would live with Maya, have my last name, and that was pretty much it. 

   "Uh... You always liked the name Levi."

   "True, but that was from the past... A different time. Maybe Levi as his middle name?"

   "Uh... What about Andrew? Or Andy?"

   "Anderson?" She retorted. 

   "Anderson Levi Janes?"

   "Anderson Levi Janes." She confirmed, as the doctor handed him to her. "Aw! Look how precious he is." We welcomed our third and final child into the world that night in a rather odd way; we both loved him to death, we both deeply cared for the other, yet we did not love each other. Perhaps some would view it as barbaric that we intentionally were planning on raising him in separate homes, perhaps some would view it as civilized and modern. Either way, that did not change how we felt about our child, little Anderson Levi Janes.