Anybody Out There - Marian Keyes (49 page)

"Shouldn't she be in the hospital?" the handsome one asked, looking deeply distressed and even
more handsome.
"Not until her contractions are five minutes apart," I said. "Can you believe it? It's barbaric."
"Does it hurt?" Doughnut Boy asked anxiously.
"She's in freaking labor!" Handsome said. "Sure it hurts!"
"How would you know?" Jacqui shouted up. "You...you...man."
"Jacqui?" Handsome said in surprise. "Is that you?"
"Karl?" Jacqui rolled onto her back and smiled graciously up at him. "Good to see you again.
How've you been?"
"Good. Good. And you?"
"Five minutes!" I said, staring at my stopwatch. "They're five minutes apart. Come on."
102
J  acqui changed into an elegant Von Furstenberg�style wrap dress. With her LV wheelie, she
looked like she was going on vacation to St. Bart's.
"Gimme that." I grabbed the case. "Come on."
Down on the street we hailed a taxi. "Don't panic," I told the driver. "But she's in labor. Drive
carefully."
I turned to Jacqui. "How do you know your man? Officer Karl?"
"We worked together on one of Bill Clinton's visits." She huffed and puffed as another
contraction got under way. "He was doing security."
"Good-looking, isn't he?"
"Feathery Stroker."
"In what way?"
"Too nice."

By the time we got to the labor and delivery suite at the hospital, the contractions were four
minutes apart. I helped Jacqui out of her lovely dress and into a horrible gown, then a nurse
appeared.
"Oh, thank God," Jacqui said. "Quick, quick, the epidural!"
The nurse inspected Jacqui's down-theres and shook her head. "Too soon. You're not dilated
enough."
"But I must be! I've been in labor for hours. I'm in agony."
The nurse gave a patronizing smile that said, Millions of woman do this every day, then she left
the suite.
"If she was a man, I bet you'd give it to her," I called after her.
"Here we go again," Jacqui whimpered. "Oh God, oh God, oh God. I want an epi-DUR-al. I
want an epi-DUR-al. It's my RIGHT!"
This brought the nurse hurrying back. "You're distressing the women in the birthing pools. It's
too soon for an epidural. It will slow down the labor."
"When can I have it? When?"
"Soon. The midwife is on her way."
"Don't fob me off, she can't give me an epidural, only the man can."
The nurse left and the contraction faded away.
"Is anything happening down there?" Jacqui asked.
She got a little compact from her bag, then held the mirror between her legs, but couldn't see
over her bump.
"Feck." Then she looked at her face. "Look at the cut of me, I'm all red and shiny."
She combed her hair, refreshed her lipstick, and powdered her red cheeks. "Who knew labor was
so unflattering?"
"Get out of bed and squat," I said. In the Perfect Birth classes we'd been taught that squatting
would speed up dilation. "Gravity is your friend," I reminded her. "Use it."
"Thank you, O Spinner of Shite."

Time passed nightmarishly slowly. When the contractions were two and a half minutes apart, she
said, "I thought the pain was unbearable before, but it's much worse now. Get the bitch nurse,
will you, Anna?"
Almost in tears, I hurried off down the corridor, relieved to be doing something useful. Racing
toward me was a heavily pregnant woman; she was naked and drenched and wild-eyed. A
bearded man was slapping along in her wake; he was also naked (and revolting. Orangey pubes).
"Ramona, come back to the birthing pool," he ordered.
"Fuck the birthing pool," Ramona shrieked. "Fuck that fucking pool. No one told me it would
hurt this bad. I'm having an epidural."
"No drugs," Orangey Pubes said. "We agreed no drugs! We want a beautiful natural experience."
"You can have the beautiful natural experience, I'm having drugs."
I found the same nurse as last time; she copped another feel of Jacqui's cervix. "Still not dilated
enough."
"That's bollocks. I am dilated enough. It's just because you don't want to get the anesthetist out
of bed. You fancy him, don't you. Go on, admit it."
The nurse blushed and Jacqui yelled, "Ha-ha! Gotcha!"
But it did Jacqui no good. The epidural was still not forthcoming and the nurse joined Orangey
Pubes in hot pursuit of Ramona, who was still refusing to return to the birthing pool. The sounds
of the three of them slipping and scuffling outside in the corridor provided entertainment for a
good while. At some stage I noticed it was ten in the morning, so I rang work and left a message
with Teenie, telling her what was happening.
Then the midwife appeared and had a good long fiddle up Jacqui's "canal."
"God, there's no dignity in this at all," Jacqui complained.
"You should be ready to start pushing," the midwife said.
"I'm pushing nothing until I get my epidural. Oh, holy Jaysus," she screeched. "It's happening
all the time now. It's one long fucking contraction."
"Push," the midwife urged.
Jacqui huffed and puffed frantically, when the curtains swished aside dramatically and who was
standing there, only Narky Joey.
"What's he doing here?" Jacqui yelled.

"I love you."
"Close the curtains, asshole!"
"Yeah, sorry." He pulled the curtains closed behind him. "I love you, Jacqui. I'm sorry, sorrier
than I've ever been about anything."
"I don't care! Get out. I'm in agony and this is all your fucking fault."
"Jacqui, push!"
"Jacqui, I love you."
"Shut up, Joey, I'm TRYING to push. And it makes no difference if you love me because I'm
never having sex again."
Joey came nearer. "I love you."
"Get away from me," Jacqui screeched. "Get away from me with your man's thing!"
The nurse reappeared. "What's happening now?"
"Please, oh please, lovely nurse, can I have my epidural now?" Jacqui begged.
The nurse had a quick feel, then shook her head. "It's too late."
"What? How can that be? Last time it was too soon, this time it's too late! You were never going
to give it to me."
"Give her the goddamned epidural," Joey said.
"You shut up." From Jacqui.
"Keep pushing," the midwife said.
"Yeah, push, Jacqui," Joey said. "Push, push."
"Would someone tell him to shut up."
"Jacqui." I was staring between her legs, in high alarm. "Something's happening!"
"What?"
"It's the head," the midwife said.
Oh yes, the head. Of course. For a minute I'd thought Jacqui's insides were coming out.

More and more of the head appeared. Oh my God, it was a human being, an actual new human
being! It happens every day, millions of times, but when you see it happening with your own two
eyes, it's nothing short of miraculous.
And then its face appeared.
"It's a baby," I yelped. "It's a baby!"
"What were you expecting?" Jacqui gasped. "A Miu Miu handbag?"
Then the shoulders had appeared, and with a gentle tug, the baby slithered out. The midwife
counted ten fingers, ten toes, then said, "Congratulations, Jacqui, you've got a beautiful baby
girl."
Narky Joey was in floods. It was hilarious.
The midwife swaddled the baby in a blanket, then handed her to Jacqui, who cooed, "Welcome
to the world, Treakil Pom-pom Vuitton Staniforth."
It was a beautiful moment.
"Can I see her?" Joey asked.
"Not yet. Give her to Anna," Jacqui ordered. "Let Anna have a go of her."
Into my arms was placed a tiny scrunched-faced mewing bundle, a new person. A new life. Her
doll-size shrimp fingers stretched up at me, and in my heart, the last shard of bitterness toward
Aidan melted and I recognized the feeling I hadn't been able to name earlier. It was love.
I handed Treakil to Joey.
"I'll leave you three to get to know each other," I said.
"Why? Where are you going?"
"Boston."
103
W       hen we touched down at Logan Airport I was the first off the plane. Dry-mouthed with
anticipation, I followed the signs for arrivals. As fast as I was going, fast enough to make me
breathless, the walk still seemed to take forever. I clip-clopped along the linoleum floors,
breathing hard, sweat patches under my arms.

My grown-up ladies' handbag bounced against my side. The only thing to mar my sophisticated
image was Dogly, whose head was sticking out of my bag. His ears were swinging
enthusiastically and he looked like he was checking out everything we passed. He seemed to
approve. Dogly was going back to his Boston roots. I'd miss him but it was the right thing to do.
Then I was passing through the automatic glass doors and I looked beyond the barrier, searching
for a blond-haired two-year-old. And there he was, a sturdy little boy, in a gray sweatshirt, blue
jeans, and a Red Sox cap, holding hands with the dark-haired woman beside him. I felt, rather
than saw, her smile.
Then Jack looked up and saw me, and even though he couldn't have known who I was, he
smiled, too, showing his little white milk teeth.
I recognized him immediately. How could I not? He looked exactly like his daddy.
Epilogue
M      ackenzie married some dissipated heir of a hundred-million-dollar canned-goods fortune.
He owns seventy-five vintage cars, has a conviction for drunk driving, and is the subject of
regular paternity suits. The wedding cost half a million dollars and was in all the society pages.
In the photos, despite the fact that she seemed to be holding the groom up, Mackenzie looked
very happy.
Jacqui and Joey and Treakil are a modern-day family unit--Joey babysits Treakil when Jacqui
goes out with Handsome Karl, the cop. She's reconsidering her ban on Feathery Strokery men,
especially as Handsome Karl--who really is very handsome--is as besotted with Treakil as he is
with Jacqui. However, there's no denying there's still a vrizzon between herself and Narky Joey,
so who knows...
Rachel and Luke are the same as ever; a pair of happy, Feathery Strokery licks.
At work, all is well except that Koo/Aroon and the other EarthSource alcos are on my case again.
I went to a charity ball with Angelo--just as friends--in aid of some 12-step recovery center and
I bumped into a couple of them at the fizzy-water reception.
"Anna! What are you doing here?"
"I'm Angelo's date."
"Angelo! How do you know Angelo?"
"Just...from around."
Oh yeah, their eyes said. Just from around? You're one of us, why don't you just admit it?

Gaz is learning Reiki. I shudder to think.
Shake and Brooke Edison broke up. There is speculation that Mr. Edison paid him off, although
Shake denies it. He puts the split down to "pressures of work." He had the air-guitar finals
coming up again, and between the hours of practice and his hair being so work-intensive, they
didn't see each other enough, he says.
Ornesto had a lovely boyfriend, an Australian called Pat. It seemed to be going very well,
especially as Pat didn't hit Ornesto or steal his saucepans, but then Ornesto got his phone bill and
it was over a thousand dollars and it turned out that Pat had been making daily phone calls to his
ex-boyfriend in Coober Pedy. Ornesto was devastated--again--but found solace in his singing.
He now has a regular gig at the Duplex, where he sings "Killing Me Softly" and wears ladies'
clothing.
Eugene from upstairs has met a "special" friend called Irene. She is warm and kind and
sometimes they go to hear Ornesto singing.
Helen is working on a new case, it's all very exciting. Nothing has been heard from Colin and
Detta since they left for Marbella. Harry Big, however, was never arrested for trying to shoot
Racey O'Grady and Racey didn't finger him. Apparently, they're both running their respective
empires, just like they've always done, and it's business as usual in Dublin crime.
Almost every Sunday I go to bingo with Mitch. It's great fun, especially as the new Mitch--or is
it the old Mitch?--has turned out to be highly competitive. He dances when he wins and sulks
when he doesn't and it's very funny, especially the sulking.
Leon and Dana are expecting a baby. Dana complains that every symptom of pregnancy is "had-
i-aaaasss," and Leon is thrilled because he has more things than ever to worry about.
Supply has finally caught up with demand in the Labradoodle market, but all the fashionable
people have moved on. The dog of the moment is a cocker spalsatian, a cross between a cocker
spaniel and an Alsatian; you can't get one for love or money.
There was a thing in the paper a few weeks ago about, of all people, Barb! She'd put the painting
by Wolfgang, her husband (well, one of them), on the market and it caused a big fuss in the art
world. Apparently, the painting was an exemplar of a short-lived but influential movement in the
sixties called the "Asshole School." The reason it was so short-lived was that all the protagonists
killed themselves, or fell off balconies, or shot each other in drunken rows over women. Barb
had been their muse, and the main reason for the suicides and drunken shootings. She says she
had nothing to do with anyone falling off any balconies, however. She is currently being feted by
the media and showered with money; interviewers are desperate to know how many people she
was sleeping with at any given time, but all Barb wants to talk about is how disgraceful it is that
no one can smoke anywhere anymore.

Mum and Dad are well. There has been no recurrence of the dog-poo situation. Dad got very
excited when Desperate Housewives started, but quickly lapsed into disappointment. He says
that Teri Hatcher is no Kim Cattrall.
Nell's strange friend got put on different medication and is now not half as strange. In a dim
light, she could pass for normal.
I meet Nicholas regularly. I brought him to Treakil's "welcome to the world, baby girl" party and
he worked the room, conversing on subjects as diverse as Fassbinder movies (Nicholas a movie
buff? Who knew?) to the rumors that coded messages were being given to Al Qaeda via the
shopping channel. Everyone declared that he was "adorable!" and the Real Men seem to have
adopted him as a mascot.
The other day I came home after doing Pilates. It was a warm afternoon and I curled up on a
corner of the couch, which was in a pool of sunshine. I started to feel sleepy, to drift, and the
membrane between being awake and asleep was so barely there that when I passed into a dream I
dreamed that I was awake. I dreamed I was on the couch, in my front room, just like I really was.
It was no surprise to suddenly find Aidan there beside me. It was such a great, great comfort to
see him and to feel his presence.
He took my hands and I looked into his face, so familiar, so beloved.
"How are you?" he asked.
"Okay, better than I was. I met little Jack."
"What did you think of him?"
"He's a cutie, a total sweetheart. That's what you were going to tell me, isn't it? The day you
died?"
"Yeah. Janie told me a few days before. I was so worried about you, how you were going to
feel."
"Well, I feel okay now. I really like Janie--and Howie, actually. And I see a lot of Kevin and
your parents. I go to Boston to see them, or they come here."
"It's weird how stuff turns out, isn't it?"
"Yes."
We sat in silence and I couldn't think of anything more important to say than "I love you."
"I love you, Anna, I'll always love you."