Chapter Text
Arthur Harrington slumped into an old uncomfortable hospital chair. Julia’s water had broken a few weeks earlier than expected, and they weren’t prepared.
By the time Arthur arrived at the hospital, the doctors were already helping through her labor.
It felt like he’d been waiting an eternity before a doctor finally approached him. His nametag read said ‘Martin.’
“Mr. Harrington?” The man seemed young to Arthur. But it wasn’t the lack of wrinkles along the doctor’s face, it was the grief in his eyes.
Arthur nodded and slowly stood. “Is everything alright?”
Martin’s mouth turned into a thin line as he shook his head. “Mrs. Harrington lost consciousness during labor. We were able to stabilize her but…”
Arthur never knew how long a breath’s width could feel until Dr. Martin paused to lick his lips.
“...but we lost the baby.”
“May I see them?” Arthur stepped around the doctor, not waiting for permission. But Martin put an authoritative hand on his shoulder and held him back.
“She’s still sleeping. Mr. Harrington I need you to understand, the infant didn’t make it. His umbilical cord was tangled around its neck and cutting off air-flow. There’s nothing any of us could have done…”
Arthur leaned against the doctor’s hand for support and let out a shuddering breath. He’d heard the doctor the first time. But he had a habit of ignoring things he didn’t like. It was the job of other people that worked beneath him to handle those things and make it better.
This wasn’t one of those times though. Arthur couldn’t ignore death.
“I understand. Have someone let me know when Julia wakes up. Does… Does she know…?”
Another head shake. “She’s stable, but still hasn’t regained consciousness. I thought maybe you might like to be there to tell her-”
“-Tell her what? That we’re not going home with a son? That all our work and failed attempts to have a child were for nothing?” Arthur snapped.
He looked down on Martin with through slitted eyes, anger bubbling up in his throat. “Isn’t that your job? Christ what the hell are they paying you for if you can’t safely deliver a child and are too spineless to admit your fault to the mother?”
The words spilled out of his mouth faster than Arthur could process. They were hurtful, he knew that. But he couldn’t find it in him to feel guilty either.
Martin snapped his mouth shut and cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry for your loss sir.” It was the last thing he said before disappearing down the artificially lit hallway.
There was no one else in sight since the hospital ran on a skeleton crew in the late-night hours. Arthur was alone.
He found himself wandering the halls until he stumbled across the hospital’s infant care unit.
Arthur slowly approached the glass window and looked in at all the other newborns, sleeping in their hampers. He tried very hard not to think of the child he’d lost as his eyes focus on an empty carrier.
Arthur rested a fist against the glass. The anger was slowly coming back again. He wanted to break something, lash out, scream from the rooftops at the injustice of it all…
A heavy smash caused Arthur to whip his head around in surprise. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one occupying the infant ward.
Lonnie Byers’ hand was pressed against the front of a vending machine.
Lonnie had been a few grades below Arthur in high school, but stories still circulated about how he was a dealer to almost everyone on the football team. If you wanted something, Lonnie could get it. He was always eager to make a few bucks.
The old plastic box was still rattling from the impact of Lonnie’s fist.
It seemed as if not much had changed. He looked dirty, and his shoulders seemed pulled tight with stress.
“Lonnie?”
Tired, bloodshot eyes met Arthur’s clear blue. Recognition flashed like the strike of a match.
“Arthur Harrington, the hell are you doing here?”
Apparently Lonnie still hadn't lost the crass speech pattern that he’d sported in school.
Arthur gestured over his shoulder. “Julia went into labor.”
“Damn, must be something going around huh? Joyce’s water broke too.”
Lonnie snatched the box of cigarettes that he’d knocked loose from the machine. As an afterthought, he hesitantly offered one to Arthur. “Celebratory smoke? This place doesn’t offer cigars…”
Arthur shook his head. “Julia…” he swallowed down a choke. “The baby didn’t make it.”
Genuine sympathy washed over Lonnie’s face. “Shit. Sorry to hear that.”
Lonnie slowly walked over to Arthur and gestured with his chin. “The Doc said there were ‘complications’ during the birth. They had to put Joyce under and do a C-section. Still hasn’t woken up yet.”
Arthur nodded and cleared his throat. It seemed as if this night was full of misfortune. “And the baby?”
Lonnie scoffed and pointed through the glass. “Little squirt made it.”
A small infant, slightly smaller than the rest, was sleeping peacefully in its basket. Dark strands of hair peeking out beneath a blue cap.
“Congratulations.” Arthur murmured as he tried to push down the jealousy filling his chest. It seemed almost unfair that Joyce’s child lived when Julia’s didn’t.
An idea crossed Arthur’s mind as Lonnie stared into the hospital’s nursery.
An idea that perhaps not even Julia would agree to if she were conscious.
But she wasn’t. And Arthur was. And he would do anything to make her happy, no matter the cost.
“Lonnie,” Arthur turned to the other man. “How are you and Joyce doing?”
Lonnie scoffed and slipped a cigarette between his lips.
“Not great. As usual. We weren’t planning on having a kid for another year or so but…” He gestured towards the newborn infant behind the glass.
“Money’s still tight?” Arthur hummed in sympathy.
“When isn’t it? The truck’s on its last leg, but we’re just gonna have to make do since all the money’s going to feeding the kid now.”
Arthur licked his lips, nervous now.
“Lonnie, I think I might have a solution for both our problem…”
Lonnie sat in a chair next to Joyce’s bed. It’s padding long-since worn away until there was only a thin layer of material between the occupant and the chair’s frame.
He bit on his fingers, anxiously deciding how best to break the news.
Joyce murmured from where she was lying as she slowly regained consciousness. Her brow was creased before she even opened her eyes. “Lonnie?”
“I’m here honey,” Lonnie leaned forward so Joyce didn’t have to move too much.
Her dark brown eyes blinked open then squeezed shut again as her body caught up to her.
“What… what happened? The baby-” She lurched up and cried out when her abdomen flared bright with pain.
“Hey, take it easy.” Lonnie gently pressed his wife back into a lying down position.
Joyce gripped his hand, trembling and looking at her husband in fear and confusion. “What happened?”
Lonnie brushed a strand of hair off of Joyce’s sweaty brow. “Something happened while you were in labor. The doctor’s tried to do a c-section… but the baby didn’t make it.”
Joyce’s furrowed brow deepened. She shook her head. “No, no I felt him…”
Her hands traveled to the place just above her heart, where a baby’s head might have rested in slumber.
“I felt him…” she began again.
Lonnie shook his head. “Joyce,”
“He was alive Lonnie- “
“Joyce!” Lonnie shouted, wanting to snap her out of her building hysteria.
Her eyes were filled with tears, begging him to understand. As if convincing him would change what he was trying to tell her.
Joyce’s lip began to tremble. “What happened? What did I do wrong?”
Lonnie took a deep breath. “The doctor said he stopped breathing on his own. It wasn’t your fault.”
Joyce shook her head and sobbed. She rocked back and forth, hands still pressed to her heart as if cradling the child she’d lost.
Lonnie felt guilty, if only for a moment. But the money that Arthur promised him outweighed Joyce’s grief.
In a month or so he’d buy them a new car and say that someone who owed him money finally came through.
She would never have to know.
Eventually Joyce stopped rocking, but the tears didn’t stop for a long time.
Julia woke up an hour after Arthur finished his transaction with Lonnie. He’d had just enough time to identify and pay off any hospital staff that interacted with either family during their stay.
When Julia’s deep green eyes finally fluttered open, Arthur made sure he was the first thing she saw.
“Arthur,” she slurred and brought a hand to her eyes like a Hollywood starlet. Her dark brown hair splayed beneath her head like a halo. “What happened?”
Arthur reached out and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Joy finally began to bubble up in his chest. Yes, this is how it was meant to be.
“Everything’s fine darling. You passed out during labor, but you’re alright.”
Julia’s finely manicured fingers curled in slightly. “The baby…”
“The baby’s fine too.” Arthur assured. “It’s a boy, would you like to see him?”
“Oh,” Julia exhaled.
Before she could say anything else Arthur was already out the room and calling for a nurse.
By the time the nurse arrived, Julia already looked like her old self. Even beneath a thin layer of sweat she was stunning in Arthur’s eyes.
Her eyes flashed nervously as the nurse gently guided the sleeping baby into Julia’s arms. She held the infant clumsily at first, like he might break at any moment.
“Shouldn’t we wait till he wakes?” She asked and made to give the infant back to the nurse.
“It’s fine,” the middle-aged woman gave a dismissal shake of her hand. “It’s better for the mother and child to grow accustomed to each other as soon as possible.”
Julia hesitantly drew the child back to her chest. She ran a hand over his soft head. “He has by hair.”
“And I’m sure he’ll grow into your other looks as well.” Arthur smiled.
Julia didn’t notice the skeptical glance the nurse directed at her husband. She was much too preoccupied with the baby that began to move in her arms.
“I think he’s waking up.”
Arthur moved next to his wife so he could get a better look at their new son.
His little fist poked out of the blanket and stretched and reached out. Julia didn’t offer him a finger as an anchor.
But she did gasp when his lids opened to reveal dark brown eyes.
“They’re… They’re brown!” Julia looked up at her husband in surprise. Neither of them had brown eyes.
Arthur looked from the infant to his wife. “It must be your Italian roots kicking in. I read somewhere those genes can lay dormant for generations.”
“That’s not for- “
“Actually,” the nurse interrupted Julia’s protest, “it’s pretty common for a baby’s eye color to change during the first few months of infancy.”
Julia looked up at Arthur for confirmation then turned back to the infant in her arms.
The baby met her eyes, and brown stared into green. His large eyes darted across her face as if searching for something. When he couldn’t seem to find it, the baby began to cry and wriggle away.
“He hates me.” Julia exclaimed and held the baby out the nurse.
“He doesn’t hate you, he just doesn’t know you yet.” Arthur offered as he watched the nurse quickly return the infant to its crib.
Julie glowered at him. “I carried him for almost nine months Arthur. Most babies have developed some kind of connection by now.”
Arthur watched as the nurse settled the infant back in his basket. His small hands still reached out above him. “Just give yourself a chance. The doctor said you might feel a little strange when you first woke up.”
“Strange how?” Julia asked, her hand ghosting over her stomach, like she was reaching for something missing.
“Just strange. Apparently some mothers feel ‘wrong’ after they give birth.”
Julia hummed in response, her eyes unfocused. “Can you go find some water for me?”
Arthur’s eyes glanced at the full pitcher of water next to her bed, but decided against pointing it out. Julia clearly wanted to be alone.
“Of course dear.” Arthur pressed a farewell kiss to her head before following the nurse out of the room.
The walked in silence for a while. The only sounds that echoed off the walls were the sound of the baby’s gurgling and the cart squeaking against the tiled floor.
“She’ll come around.” The nurse said, offering the baby her finger as they walked. She smiled when he gripped her much larger hand. “He’s strong. What name did you decide on?”
Arthur blinked down at the infant on the cart. They’d decided on a few names half-way into the pregnancy. Julia had protested, but Arthur finally convinced her to name the child after him if it was a boy.
But now… it felt almost ghoulish to name this baby after the one they had lost.
Julia was never fond of that name anyway. Arthur worked desperately to think of any of the other names she’d suggested instead.
Finally, one came to mind that he’d recalled her mentioning on more than one occasion.
“Steven. We named him Steven.”
The nurse nodded in approval before smiling down at the infant in her care.
“Well then, hello Steve. Something tells me you’ve got quite the life ahead of you.”