I stared at her, my vision literally blurring at the edges as another massive contraction began to build in my lower spine. “Deborah, I’m in labor. The twins are coming right now.”
“Oh, please,” she scoffed, waving a manicured hand dismissively in my direction, as if swiping away a pesky insect. “First-time mothers always overreact to everything. My labor with Travis lasted sixteen agonizing hours. You have plenty of time. You’re just being dramatic to get attention.”
I looked at Travis, expecting him to push past her, to tell her she was out of her mind. Instead, I watched his jaw work back and forth. His eyes darted between his mother’s expectant glare and my terrified face. My heart plummeted into my stomach. I recognized that specific, hollow expression. It was the look of a man who was about to fold.
“Travis,” I whispered, my fingers digging desperately into his forearm. “Please. Something feels wrong. I need a doctor.”
“Don’t you dare move until I come back,” he snapped, violently shaking off my grip. His tone was suddenly ice-cold and authoritative, carrying a cruel edge I had never heard directed at me before.
His father, Gerald, shuffled out from the den, a freshly folded financial newspaper tucked beneath his arm. “She can wait a few hours, son. It’s not that serious.” Gerald clapped Travis firmly on the shoulder, offering a man-to-man nod of solidarity. “Women have been dropping babies in fields since the dawn of time. Take your mother shopping. She’s been looking forward to this outing all week, and we don’t want to ruin her mood.”
I opened my mouth to scream, to protest, to beg, but another contraction hit me so hard my knees buckled. Travis didn’t even try to catch me. He was already ushering his mother and sister out the door. Deborah threw a triumphant, sickeningly sweet smile over her shoulder as she crossed the threshold.
“Just lie down on the couch and drink some water,” Travis called out, not even bothering to look back. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
The heavy oak door slammed shut with a sickening thud. The deadbolt clicked. Gerald retreated back to his leather recliner, turning the television volume up to drown out my breathing. Outside, the engine of Travis’s SUV roared to life and quickly faded down the suburban street, leaving me entirely abandoned in a house that suddenly felt like a tomb.
I collapsed onto the living room sofa, hot, angry tears streaming uncontrollably down my face. How had I ended up here? How had the man who stood at an altar and promised to protect me just walked out the door to buy a purse while I was in high-risk labor with his daughters?
Twenty agonizing minutes passed. The contractions were no longer rolling waves; they were a relentless, crushing vise, coming barely three minutes apart. I fumbled blindly for my phone with trembling hands, but the bright screen blurred through my tears. My parents were on a cruise somewhere in the Mediterranean, completely unreachable, celebrating their fortieth anniversary. My closest confidante, Kimberly, had relocated to Portland a month prior. Every other number in my phone belonged to Travis’s extended relatives or his drinking buddies—people who existed solely to validate his reality.
Another contraction struck, possessing such violent, tearing power that I threw my head back and let out a raw, guttural scream.
