Work in Progress

"Luca, come on, come on, answer your phone. Why isn’t he answering?”

“Calm down and catch your breath,” Gino suggested, though he, too, was becoming anxious. “You’ve left enough messages. No point in leaving more.”

Carm looked at her husband. “We need to find him. Gino, can you see if Luca is still at the plant?

“That’s a 20-minute drive. I’m pretty sure you’ll have got hold of him by then,” Gino reasoned.

“Call Gary,” one of the servers suggested. “He may know how to reach Luca.”

“Yes,” Carm said. “Good idea. Does anyone have Gary’s number?”

Lauren, the server who was standing by Gino, pointed toward the kitchen and the restaurant phone. It had yet to be replaced by a mobile version and hung languidly on the wall beside the small fryer. It was old-fashioned, but it did the job.

“I think it’s on speed dial, Gary’s number. Luca used to use it before he got a cell phone.”

While Carm was desperately trying to find her son, Chloë sat on the edge of her bed, rocking forward and back.

The cramp she’d been feeling for the past two days had become stronger, then just stopped. The relief had been welcome, because the pain had worried her. She wasn’t due to deliver until the following Thursday, and was exhausted from the few hours she’d been helping out in the kitchen.

Chloë had settled comfortably into the single bed, under the plush quilt she loved, with every intent to sleep. She must have dozed off if only for a few minutes, because she was startled herself to wake and find herself soaked. “This is all I need. I must have wet the bed. Dammit. Now I’ll have to change it.” Chloë contemplated whether she could just leave the bed as it was, sponge herself off and change pyjamas. She was too tired to take everything apart and remake the bed.

Deciding the bed could wait, Chloë went into the small bathroom that she alone used. As she ran the warm water and soaked a facecloth, it happened. A stab of pain worse than anything she’d ever felt rioted through her abdomen. “Oh shit,” was all she mouthed before she yelled, Carm!” When that met with no response she repeated, “Carm. Carm. It’s started.”

She heard a crash from the floor below, then footsteps ascending the mahogany staircase.

“I’m coming. I’m coming,” Carm shouted.

Carm found Chloë rocking herself on the edge of her bed. “Santa Maria,” Carm began, anxiety punctuating her words. “When did it start?” she called to Chloë as she entered the room.

“Just a few minutes ago,” Chloë, the pain currently eased, responded.

“How many?”

“Just one so far.”

“I hope that gives us time,” Carm thought aloud.

“For what? For the hospital?” Chloë quizzed.

“Yes the hospital. And Luca. Did you call Luca?”

Chloë winced in response. “Here comes…no, it’s not.”

“Luca, did you call Luca?” Carm repeated.

“I tried. No answer. I left two messages.”

“OK, bambina, you pull yourself and your stuff together. I’ll keep calling Luca.

“Come to the dining room when you’re ready. Are you OK on your own? The stairs…”

Chloë did her best to smile reassuringly. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“You joke,” Carm called over her shoulder as she headed for the stairs. “Let’s hope the joke is a good one.”

Standing up shakily, Chloë responded, “I’m sure it is. It has to be. It had better be.”

When Carm made her way to the restaurant, she retrieved her phone from under the reception counter and frantically began pressing numbers. As she kept accidentally pressing more than one at a time or missing the number entirely, she stopped and told herself to slow down and breathe. When she finally landed on the right combination, Carm was livid that it went to voice mail. “How could..why would he let a call go to the message system when it’s an important time?” she queried the empty room.

After hitting redial directed her to voice mail a few more times, Carm anxiously left a message, shouting into the phone, “Luca, call back right away. It’s time. You get yourself here faster than fast, boy, or you’ll miss everything.”

When Chloë appeared in the doorway to the main dining room, Carm quickly took her overnight bag. “You’ve got enough weight to carry, from the looks of you,” Carm joked.

Chloë smiled, somewhat begrudgingly and said, “Promise me, Carmesita, I will lose this at least some of this mountain that has taken over my abdomen.”

“I promise, bambina. Everyone loses the baby fat. Well…” Carm continued, mentally comparing her figure now with that of her youth, “…most of us lose most of it. The lucky ones lose it all.”

Suddenly, Chloë stopped. “Am I lucky, Carm?” she asked, earnestly.

Carm looked back as she was exiting the main door at Chloë, standing and looking for all the world like a little girl playing dress-up. She liked this girl, and she was happy to be part of this unlikely story. She knew Chloë was honestly in love with Luca, but she wasn’t sure of Luca’s feelings towards her. He was playing his cards uncharacteristically close to his chest. In the scenario Carm hoped would unfold, Chloë and Luca would eventually marry and, with this very much due baby, become their own family within the close-knit di Angelo circle. She shook her head at the thought. “No time for ‘what if’s now, even happy ones,” she thought.

When the two women reached Carm’s SUV, Carm guided Chloë to the driver’s side rear door. “You’ll be more comfortable there and, trust me, it’s a lot easier than the front seats to maneuver.

“Of course it is. Remember all the times you’ve let me use your car? And, yes, it’s a bit of a climb.”

Chloë kept a grip on the door handle, hoping to steady herself and her understandable bout of nerves.

Struggling somewhat around her girth, she managed to pull her phone out of her coat pocket.

From the driver’s seat, Carm was doing her best to keep a watchful eye on Chloë in the rear-view mirror.

“Are you calling Luca? Keep trying. I’m going to give that son of mine proper hell for not answering. Call Gary, too. Do you have his number?”

“I do. Good idea,” Chloë said. “It will be OK,” she added, trying to reassure Carm, but she was worried. This wasn’t like the Luca she’d come to know in what was nearly a year. There would be an explanation for his silence. She soothed her anxiety by assuring herself she would see him at the hospital, even if she didn’t see him in the delivery room. The thought saddened her and she felt she might start blubbering. “Like a baby.” How appropriate. As that thought entered her mind, another sharp contraction interrupted her romantic concerns. All that mattered now was this baby. Hers and Luca’s.

Carm, hearing Chloë’s sudden intake of breath as the contraction took hold, glanced at the mirror. She could tell she was on the verge of tears, and she could easily understood the uncertainty of Chloë’s situation. “I will… I WILL strangle that son of mine if we can’t reach him,” she vowed to herself. Surely there was a simple explanation for the constant voice mail. She hoped Chloë’s faith in Luca was warranted.

Keeping an eye on both the traffic and Chloë, Carm dared a quick look at the Rosary beads she kept hanging from the rear-view mirror, and prayed to St. Joseph, the Patron Saint of Families, the entire way to the hospital.