“Don’t forget to call Solana!” Mercedes demands as she manages the pain of the contraction.

“Yes, and let Solana know it’s time,” I repeat to Lois although I’m sure she heard. “Raul!” I call out on our way down the stairs. Raul is tugging on his jacket, keys in hand. He, too, has moved into the house for just this event.

“Fuck, it hurts,” Mercedes manages when she gets a breath. I’ve been watching her for hours, keeping track of the time between contractions. Hating that I can’t do anything to help her. But if I thought it was bad before, I was mistaken.

“It’s going to be okay,” I try to reassure calmly as I get her into the car and slide in beside her. Raul rushes us down the lane of oaks and out the gates toward the hospital as Mercedes curls into me again, moaning in pain as I rub her back, feeling pathetically helpless and completely powerless.

“Jesus. I’m going to die,” she says.

“No. I won’t let you.”

“Fuck!”

“We’re supposed to breathe,” I tell her, remembering what I’d read, what the woman at the birthing classes said. Or is it count? Are we supposed to fucking count? Fuck. I can’t remember.

Her body relaxes a little as the contraction passes, and when she looks up at me, I see how her hair is sticking to her forehead. I wipe tears from her eyes.

“Breathe. It’s supposed to help. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Do it with me, Mercedes. Breathe with me.”

“I am breathing.” Her face contorts with the next wave of pain.

“Do it with me. I’ll count—”

She fists my shirt again, and I lean toward her to alleviate some of the pain. “I am fucking breathing, you asshole!”

“She said it would relax you.”

“She’s a fucking liar!”

“Raul?” I call out without looking away from her.

“I’m going as fast as I can.” He swerves around a street sweeper who honks his horn at us.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!”

“What? What is it?” I ask as Mercedes sits up a little and looks down at the little bit of water on the leather seat that grows before my eyes. Oh fuck.

“Shit!”

“It’s okay. Your water broke. That’s all,” I say in a tone intended to calm and reassure her.

“That’s all?” She starts to grow angry, but her pain mutes her.

“Raul, are we fucking there?” I snap at him before turning more gently to her. “It’s fine, sweetheart. It’s fine.”

Raul takes a sharp turn into the parking lot as Mercedes lets out an ear-piercing cry and doubles over.

“They’re going to fucking kill me.”

“We’re here, honey. We’re here. We’ll get that epidural first thing.”