“—healthy eating," Brooke says, her face relaxing. “Which I...really...” puff, “...can't stress enough."
I slap a hot piece of naan bread onto my plate in response.
“We’re anticipating a very quick dilation of Brooke’s cervix, which she has prepped and ready for tonight,” Blake says. "So the baby should arrive sometime around ten o’clock.”
“Oh! Drink up, ladies, he said ‘cervix.’” Arabella and Nikki each have a swig of wine, whilst I have a sip of boring old San Pellegrino with lemon. "That baby better come before nine—the ratings won’t be nearly as good during late-night."
An hour later, after we finished our feast, I pop a Tums tablet into my mouth to try to stave off the inevitable heartburn caused by too much baby and too much curry. "Doesn't this seem a bit wrong? For us to sit here watching this whole thing and making fun of her?"
"It would if she weren't a completely horrible bitch," Nikki says with a slight slur in her voice.
“Who tried to steal Arthur out from under your nose,” Arabella adds.
"Good point. I almost forgot about that."
"It seems like she's a little bit tense, no?" Arabella says, tilting her head as she stares at the screen.
I turn my attention to the telly again, where Brooke is now practicing her Lamaze breathing but is also looking very red in the face. "Is that a bead of sweat on her forehead?"
"Oh God, I think you might be right," Nikki says. “She might be a human after all.”
"Blake, cloth!" Brooke barks from her standing position with her forearms resting on the bed.
Blake pops to it, wiping down her cheeks and neck with the cloth.
"Forehead, you ninny," Brooke snatches the cloth out of his hand and does it herself.
"Perhaps it's a good time to practice the open flower meditation?" Blake says, reaching for his iPhone.
Brooke, clearly having a very painful contraction, ignores the question and starts panting and puffing while gripping the blankets in front of her with both hands.
"Oh, dear," I say, slightly horrified at the amount of pain she appears to be in.
Suddenly, Brooke's voice can be heard over the speaker even though the real Brooke is still puffing away.
"Brooke, it's me, Brooke." She laughs a little, then continues in a very soothing voice. "You're ready for this. No one has prepared themselves as well for the gift of childbirth as you have. You are a goddess. You have done everything possible in the last nine months, and now it is your moment to shine."
"Shut that off." Brooke swivels her head at Blake. "Wrong one."
"Sorry, darling,” he says, looking slightly flustered.
Turning to the camera, Blake says, "Little bit of technical difficulties there, folks." He chuckles and then continues to look for the proper meditation. "It's called open flower, isn’t it?"
"Shut it off. I don’t want a fucking meditation right now,” Brooke says, slapping the phone out of his hand.
“Sure, sure,” he says, shaking his fingers a little. “What can I do for you, then?" Blake says, reaching over to rub her back. "Daddy massage time?"
"Don't touch me. Go get Dr. Yates."
"Is something wrong, sweetie?"
"Yes, something's wrong, you genius! I’m in labour, and it hurts like a motherfucker, so shut off the fucking cameras and get me a fucking epidural!"
The screen goes black for a second, and then an ad for Krispy Kreme doughnuts comes on, leaving Nikki, Arabella and I staring at each other wide-eyed for a moment before we all burst out laughing.
After a minute, the laughing brings the serious heartburn. I pop another Tums tablet into my mouth, chewing it slowly while Nikki and Arabella continue enjoying the victory of the moment.
"Oh my God. That was awesome," Nikki says, high-fiving Arabella.
