Read Online The Original 1982 by Lori Carson - Free Book Online Page A

Minnow. I’m a little dizzy, a bit sick to my stomach. But I get through the shift. At least I don’t have to wait around until the money’s figured out and everything’s cleaned up, as I would if I were waitressing. After the last customer is seated, I hang out at the bar for a few minutes, have a Coke with Will, and say good night to the girls. By ten-fifteen, I’m on my way home.
    The perspiration at my hairline cools in the chilly night. Being pregnant is like having a heater in my belly; I’m always too warm. My bones ache and I’m tired, but I walk briskly. Columbus Avenue is alive with people spilling out of all the bars and restaurants. They laugh and push one another, drunkenly. I cut over to Amsterdam.
    West Seventy-first Street is desolate as I approach my building just before West End Avenue. I can hear my own breathing and footsteps in the quiet. I dig through my bag for my front door key and go to turn it in the lock. I’m just about to get inside when someone grabs my arm and spins me around.
    The guy facing me looks deranged. He’s a street person, definitely a drug addict. I don’t understand how he’s managed to sneak up on me.
    I don’t fight him as he roughly pulls my bag off my shoulder. He pushes me hard, and I fall back and down, against the front door. He takes my wallet out of the bag and throws the rest onto the sidewalk.
    â€œDo you have any jewelry?” he asks.
    â€œNo,” I say, but no sound comes out.
    â€œBitch,” he says. His eyes are popping out of his head. I try to keep my own head down. “That’s right. Don’t look at me. And don’t get up. Sit there and count to a hundred before you go inside or I’ll come back and cut you.” His saliva strikes my arm. I think of the phrase spitting mad. I don’t look at him.
    â€œSay ‘okay’!” He commands.
    â€œOkay.” My voice is barely audible. My head is down. He walks off and I start counting. I get to seventy before I look up. He’s gone but I finish counting. I get up slowly, gather my things from the sidewalk, and go inside. That’s when I notice my pants are soaking wet. At first I think I’ve peed myself, but then I realize that my water has broken. I think about whether I should call the police to report the mugging or an ambulance to take me to the hospital. I remember my insurance card is in the wallet.
    I’ll go to the hospital. I’m shaking as I dial 911. “I need an ambulance, please.” I give the operator my address.
    I call Dr. Nancy and tell her answering service that I’m on my way.
    I call Alan and tell him, too.
    I try to reach my parents, but their phone rings and rings.
    I pour out a couple of bowls of food for the cats and refill their water.
    The buzzer sounds. The ambulance has arrived. I don’t have a bag packed. I have no wallet, and I’ve just been mugged. Still, all I can think about is that soon I am going to meet you, Minnow.
    I lock up the apartment and go out to the ambulance. They have me lie down on a stretcher. Take my blood pressure and my temperature. They close the doors.
    â€œAre you going to turn on the siren?” I ask the driver.
    â€œSure,” he says. He’s kind of cute.
    The siren begins to wail as we take off. Speeding across town, to get you born.

Twenty-five
    O n a late November morning, in a chilly delivery room lit by overhead fluorescents, at an East Side hospital, after eight and a half hours of labor, the older nurse, the one with the Polish accent, says: “One, two . . . Push, Lisa, now push .”
    I push through the count of ten, and rest.
    â€œGood,” she says.
    Then we do it again, and again.
    I cry for my mother. I hold on to the nurse so tightly her fingers turn white. I keep waking from a dream and falling back into it. I can’t tell the difference between dreaming and being awake. The contractions come closer