Read Online Love Triangle: Three Sides to the Story by Brenda Barrett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brenda Barrett
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call my parents on the way.” I headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth as Marie suggested.
She was still lying in the same position, clutching the sheet when I came back, a look of fear in her eyes.
“Marie … ”
“Go,” she shooed me from the room, “your child should see you first thing, remember that’s what you said when the others were born.” Her eyes were bright with tears.
I left the room burdened down with guilt.
I raced to the maternity ward of the hospital and was asked by a nurse if I wanted to be present during the birth. I hesitated. I was there for my other children, but this was different. I knew Karen was still in love with me. While working on the nursery at her home, I could feel emotions coming from her in spades. That had me guilty too. I was a walking guilt-machine.
The nurse was looking at me and I realised that I had not answered.
“Sure, I want to be at the birth.”
She scrubbed my hands within an inch of its life, and then I put on protective gear.
I was led into the room. Karen was panting and trying hard not to push.
“Not yet,” said the mid-wife who was attending the birth.
I went over to her side. She hung onto my hand and squeezed. I stood there for a long time silently offering my support, silently offering my prayers to God that this child would be healthy.
Karen was in labour for five hours, then she squealed and pushed George Junior into the world. I held him before they took him to be cleaned up. I looked into his squalling face and I loved him. Despite the circumstances, I was happy that he was here.
“Thank you,” I mouthed to a tired Karen.
She smiled wearily and asked, “What time is it?”
“Seven o’ clock,” the matron answered, “one of the quickest first births I have ever seen.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Marie
The children were all in bed on top of and beside me. It was eight o’clock.
No school for us.
It was June first, the beginning of summer.
I will never forget today. George had called earlier and said that he had a son. I had struggled to say congratulations so I only said, ‘Okay’. He was silent for a while then he said he had to go.
Since then I have been thinking that I wanted to escape. His mother had called and I relayed the message.
She sounded ecstatic. An even number, two boys and two girls she had crowed. Then she had tempered her enthusiasm and asked me if I was alright.
What did she think, that I was made of stone? Of course I was not alright and I might never be alright for the rest of my life. I looked at my children. Neither George nor I had told them about this new development in their lives. Timothy woke up and glanced at me, “Mom, I am hungry.”
“Me too,” Gabrielle mumbled, snuggling closer to me.
I got up from the bed hurriedly. “Last one out has to spread the bed.”
The three of them scrambled out and started bickering about who was last. I left them to it and went to the kitchen. My whole family was there; my mother and father, Winsome and Laura, my brother and his wife.
Winsome was fixing fried plantains and scrambled eggs. Laura was frying sausages and my father was juicing oranges with the electronic juicer. My mother was directing the proceedings from the kitchen table. I surveyed the scene and smiled. The support group was here.
“Thanks, guys,” I said, coming into the kitchen.
They paused and looked at me and then continued working.
“So who did George call first?” I asked to no one in particular.
“Me.” My mother touched my hand as I sat beside her. “He said he didn’t want you without support at this time.”
“How thoughtful,” I mumbled.
“Is it a boy or a girl?” Winsome asked as she flipped over a plantain in the skillet.
“A boy.”
“He will need his father,” Laura said. Her long nails looked like they were on the verge of breaking as she tussled with the sausage tin. “Statistics show that boys who grow up with their father are more likely to know
She was still lying in the same position, clutching the sheet when I came back, a look of fear in her eyes.
“Marie … ”
“Go,” she shooed me from the room, “your child should see you first thing, remember that’s what you said when the others were born.” Her eyes were bright with tears.
I left the room burdened down with guilt.
I raced to the maternity ward of the hospital and was asked by a nurse if I wanted to be present during the birth. I hesitated. I was there for my other children, but this was different. I knew Karen was still in love with me. While working on the nursery at her home, I could feel emotions coming from her in spades. That had me guilty too. I was a walking guilt-machine.
The nurse was looking at me and I realised that I had not answered.
“Sure, I want to be at the birth.”
She scrubbed my hands within an inch of its life, and then I put on protective gear.
I was led into the room. Karen was panting and trying hard not to push.
“Not yet,” said the mid-wife who was attending the birth.
I went over to her side. She hung onto my hand and squeezed. I stood there for a long time silently offering my support, silently offering my prayers to God that this child would be healthy.
Karen was in labour for five hours, then she squealed and pushed George Junior into the world. I held him before they took him to be cleaned up. I looked into his squalling face and I loved him. Despite the circumstances, I was happy that he was here.
“Thank you,” I mouthed to a tired Karen.
She smiled wearily and asked, “What time is it?”
“Seven o’ clock,” the matron answered, “one of the quickest first births I have ever seen.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Marie
The children were all in bed on top of and beside me. It was eight o’clock.
No school for us.
It was June first, the beginning of summer.
I will never forget today. George had called earlier and said that he had a son. I had struggled to say congratulations so I only said, ‘Okay’. He was silent for a while then he said he had to go.
Since then I have been thinking that I wanted to escape. His mother had called and I relayed the message.
She sounded ecstatic. An even number, two boys and two girls she had crowed. Then she had tempered her enthusiasm and asked me if I was alright.
What did she think, that I was made of stone? Of course I was not alright and I might never be alright for the rest of my life. I looked at my children. Neither George nor I had told them about this new development in their lives. Timothy woke up and glanced at me, “Mom, I am hungry.”
“Me too,” Gabrielle mumbled, snuggling closer to me.
I got up from the bed hurriedly. “Last one out has to spread the bed.”
The three of them scrambled out and started bickering about who was last. I left them to it and went to the kitchen. My whole family was there; my mother and father, Winsome and Laura, my brother and his wife.
Winsome was fixing fried plantains and scrambled eggs. Laura was frying sausages and my father was juicing oranges with the electronic juicer. My mother was directing the proceedings from the kitchen table. I surveyed the scene and smiled. The support group was here.
“Thanks, guys,” I said, coming into the kitchen.
They paused and looked at me and then continued working.
“So who did George call first?” I asked to no one in particular.
“Me.” My mother touched my hand as I sat beside her. “He said he didn’t want you without support at this time.”
“How thoughtful,” I mumbled.
“Is it a boy or a girl?” Winsome asked as she flipped over a plantain in the skillet.
“A boy.”
“He will need his father,” Laura said. Her long nails looked like they were on the verge of breaking as she tussled with the sausage tin. “Statistics show that boys who grow up with their father are more likely to know
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