Shit, say less!I thought to myself as I took Ryann by the elbow.
Zyah ran up just as we crossed the threshold to the sidewalk. “Oh my goodness, is Ryann in labor?”
“She is.” The sense of calm remained with Mrs. Upton. “Zyah, please make sure that all of the gifts get loaded up in somebody’s car, then meet us at the hospital. Which hospital are we going to, Brix?”
“Emmanuel.”
“Meet us at Emmanuel, Zy.”
“Okay.” She leaned around her mother. “I love you, Rowdy. Don’t have my baby before I get there.”
“Okay,” Ryann agreed softly.
“Let’s go.” Mrs. Upton directed us toward my truck.
Somebody must have told my driver, Cedric, what was up, because he was out of the truck waiting to assist us when we got to him. “We’re going to the hospital, right?” he clarified.
“Yeah, Emmanuel, over on 95thstreet.”
“Got it.”
“You ain’t gotta rush, Cedric. Get my baby and my baby there safely, please.”
He made eye contact with me. “Got it.”
In the truck, Ryann admitted that her back had been hurting almost all day and she felt what she described as a “pulling” in her lower stomach from the moment she arrived at the shower. I wanted to be pissed at her, but I was too nervous. By the time Cedric eased away from the curb, she was having contractions. Traffic was terrible, and for a minute there I was really concerned that we might not make it to the hospital.
“What did the doctor say?” Mrs. Upton asked as we remained at a stand-still, the twenty-seventh vehicle waiting for the light to turn green.
“Uh, she’s on duty. She said for Ryann to start heading to the hospital.”
“Okay.” Her head bobbed in a nod. “We’ll be there soon enough.”
Ryann inhaled on a contraction.
“That’s the opposite of what you should be doing, Ry Ry. I know it hurts, and I know you’re scared,” Mrs. Upton said softly to her eldest daughter, “but you gotta breathe through those contractions. Tensing up only makes them worse. When the next one starts coming, tell me. Me and Brix will help you.”
Some men would’ve tried to play it off, or act all hard, but I was glad as hell that Mrs. Upton was in the truck with us. She’d been through labor and delivery four times. She understood the assignment. She was a calming force for both of us as she directed both Ryann and me on what to do and how to move. I owed her a phat ass gift card.
Once we got to the hospital, Cedric ran in and got a wheelchair. I arranged Ryann in it, then the three of us walked up to labor and delivery.
A Few Hours Later
“Awwww, what’s her name?” Zyah was the first one to hold her, and she gently stroked our daughter’s cheek.
“Brixtonia,” I joked.
Everybody in the room—Mr. and Mrs. Upton, Grandpa Tony, Genesis, Christian, and Beaux—all stared at me.
“He’s joking,” Ryann told them. “Her name is Brylee Rae Cole.”
“Not Upton-Cole, huh?” Grandpa Tony asked, shooting a knowing look toward Genesis. “I like it. I’m not with those hyphenated names.”
“None of my children’s names are hyphenated, sir,” Genesis said to our grandfather. “I’m the only one.”
“If I was your husband and you didn’t wanna take my name, I’d give you back.”
“I would never marry you, Grandpa. Even if you weren’t my granddaddy. Don’t nobody want no mean husband, like you,” she told him.
