I stagger to a halt at the top of the stairs when I see Niki walking up the middle of the bus, hands on her hips. She takes long, exaggerated breaths, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.
My heart contracts hard in my chest.
She’s okay.
Relief crashes into me when our eyes meet, and I fight the stinging sensation at the corners of my eyes. There was a time last week where I wondered if Niki would ever wake up, and now she’s pacing the bus. I can hardly believe it.
Her hair is freshly-washed and pulled on top of her head, and she’s wearing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Sebastian fidgets at the dining table, like he has no fucking idea how to help.
“You’re awake,” I state the obvious. It’s the only thing that comes to mind.
“Yep, and I changed my mind. Just kill me,” Niki replies, pausing in the kitchen as a contraction hits. She grips the counter with one hand, holding her stomach with the other, as she groans and tries to breathe through it.
“Can’t do that, sorry bestie.” I sling my duffel bag onto the couch and whip out my phone, opening the browser. I’ve saved countless pages about childbirth over the last few weeks, but there’s one in particular I’m looking for.
Relief hits when I find it:Oops, I Birthed My Baby In A Toilet. Hilarious title, but it’s actually filled with loads of info about what to do if you have to give birth alone or at home.
“You’re gonna have to lose the pants, Nik,” I say, lingering near the couch to give her space.
“You want me pacing with my ass out?” She glares at me.
“I’m about to see way more than your asscheeks.” I shrug. “And there’s no one else here, is there?”
I glance at Sebastian, and he shakes his head in reply. “She kicked them out a while ago.”
Good for her. I would have done the same.
I decide to give Sebastian something to do, other than sit there looking useless. “I need towels and any oldblankets you don’t mind ruining. A trash bag and paper towels might be good too.” He moves without a word, going to collect the things. Then, I turn my attention to Niki, who’s gone back to pacing. “You know, we should have thought about padcicles… We can get some after. Mom swears by them.”
She smirks at the joke, but I can tell she’s in too much pain to laugh.
So much for comic relief.
“Okay, just keep walking. You’re doing great. Work through those contractions until you’re ready to push,” I say, sounding way more confident than I feel.
Truthfully, I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing. No amount of internet searches could make me feel even remotely ready to deliver a baby, but this is our only option.
No hospital. No doctor. Just me and a demon who looks more terrified than anything.
This is fine.
Everything is fine.
The minutes drag by, and with every one, Niki seems to lose a little more energy. She goes from pacing, to leaning over the side of the bed, to finally laying down in her bed surrounded by the blankets and towels Sebastian collected. She can barely keep her eyes open when Emrys pops in to give her more energy.
Minutes crawl by, and Niki’s contractions get closer together. I try to support her however she needs, moving pillows and shifting blankets, trying to be useful. All the while, I’m on the edge of my seat, teeming with anxiety.
Everything seems fine so far, but we aren’t out of the woods yet.
Not until I’m sure this baby isn’t going to kill my best friend.
After what feels like an eternity, it’s finally time, and I instantly go into autopilot. I reassure Niki over and over that staring into your best friend’s penis fly trap is just part of strengthening your bond. She doesn’t even have time to argue before contractions slam into her back to back.
Niki pushes down with every contraction, her groans and cries filling the tiny space. Sebastian is doing his best to comfort her, letting her squeeze his hand until his fingertips turn while. Meanwhile, my heart is beating in my throat.
“Listen, if you tear, I’m not a seamstress, but I’ll do my best,” I say, trying to alleviate some of my anxiety with laughter. She chuckles once, but another contraction quickly cuts her off.
Her groan turns into a scream as she pushes a final time, and the next thing I know, I’m catching the baby in a fluffy bathroom towel. I wrap it up carefully, surprised by how efficient my autopilot is, cleaning off the wriggling form, making sure it’s breathing.
