Page 125 of For the Love of Art

“It’s fine.” Marissa was clutching her chest. “I was just building the courage to buzz your apartment.”

“How did you–”

“Don leaves a lot of things lying around.” Marissa cradled her swollen belly.

I nodded. Marissa looked down at the sidewalk.

I cleared my throat. “Did you want to come up?” I pointed over my shoulder at the door to my apartment.

“No!” Marissa said quickly, then turned a little sheepish. “And yes. I don’t know. I just want to know why Don came here and if he’s– well, you know what they say. If they’ll cheat with you, they’ll cheat on you.”

She closed her eyes and blew a long breath out.

“Are you okay?”

Marissa’s eyes clenched tighter, but she nodded yes. “I’ve been nauseous since yesterday. I’m sure it’s just the stress of having to see you,” she said through gritted teeth.

Her words bit, but I understood where she was coming from. I had once wondered if Don was cheating on me, and I wish I’d had the courage to confront my fears at the time.

As I watched Marissa, though, Don was the furthest thing from my mind. She looked unwell, and with the baby, I didn’t want to risk anything.

“I think you should come inside,” I encouraged. “Have a glass of water. We can talk.”

“No, I’m fine. I–” The sound of water trickling onto the pavement made us both look down.

Between Marissa’s feet was a small puddle of water. We both looked at each other at first, confused, then panic washed over her face.

“Okay. It’s okay!” I tried to reach out and touch her, but she instantly pulled back.

Fair reaction.

“I need a cab.” Marissa looked around and waved at a yellow cab. It didn’t stop. “Fuck!”

“I’ve got this!” I stepped onto the street, waving manically while yelling, “Taxi!”

A cab pulled over, and I led Marissa to it. She got in the back seat, and when I went to join her, she closed the door on me.

Again, fair reaction.

I hopped into the front seat and looked back at Marissa. “What hospital?”

“Mount Sinai.”

I tilted my head. “Really? You want to go that far in morning traffic?”

“Just take me there!” she yelled.

I threw my hands up and looked at the taxi driver. “You heard her.”

The taxi driver nodded, seemingly unphased that a woman was in labor in the back of his cab.

As Marissa whimpered in the back seat, I did the only thing I could- dial a number I still knew by heart.

“Hey, Don?”

“I’m so glad you called. I’ve been miss–”

“I’m in a cab with Marissa on the way to the hospital.” I looked over my shoulder at her. She looked terrified. “The baby’s coming.”