Little Earthquakes Read Online Free PDF Page B

mother. “Andrew,” she whispered loudly enough so that the three women could hear her, “are you sure this is all right?”
    “It’s fine, Edith,” Andrew said from the kitchen in the basement. “The ladies sound like they’ve got it under control.”
    “What are they doing down there?” Ayinde asked, thinking how lucky Becky was to have such a sweet husband—a husband who, most important, was here and not three thousand miles away. Andrew reminded her a little bit of her own father…or, rather, she admitted, the parts her father would play on Broadway or occasionally on the big screen. He’d carved out quite a niche for himself by playing caring, warmhearted fathers and, lately, even grandfathers.
    “Andrew’s online, and Edith’s probably alphabetizing my canned goods,” Becky whispered back. “We’re fine, Mom,” she called. “Really.” Edith shook her head again and vanished, like a rabbit disappearing down into its burrow. Ayinde reached for her cell phone for what felt like the hundredth time since her water had broken, hit the button for Richard’s cell, then sucked in her breath as the phone rang and rang and another contraction started grinding through her.
    “Another one,” she said, curling her body around her belly.
    Kelly’s face went pale as Ayinde tried to breathe through the pain. “What’s it feel like?” she asked when the contraction was over.
    Ayinde shook her head. It was a horrible pain, worse than anything she’d ever felt, worse than the ankle she’d broken while riding horseback when she was fourteen. It felt as if her midriff was surrounded by iron bands, and they were squeezing her tighter and tighter as the contraction unspooled. It was like being adrift, drowning in a vast ocean with no shore and no rescue in sight. “Bad,” she gasped, pressing her fists against her back. “Bad.”
    Becky put her hands on Ayinde’s shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Breathe with me,” she said. Her eyes were as calm as her voice, and her hands were strong and steady. “Look at me. You’re going to be all right. Let’s give your baby some air. Come on, Ayinde, breathe…”
    “Oh, God!” she groaned. “I can’t do this anymore…I want my mother.” The contraction finally loosened its grip. Ayinde started crying, miserable, defeated tears.
    Just then—at last—her cell phone rang.
    “Baby?” Richard sounded harried and distracted. She could hear the noise of the crowd in the background.
    “Where are you?”
    “On my way to the airport. On my way home. I’m sorry, Ayinde—I turned my phone off when practice started…”
    “And nobody told you?”
    She could hear a car door slamming. “Not ’til just now.”
    Not until the game was over, Ayinde thought bitterly. Not until they didn’t need him anymore. “Hurry,” she said, gripping the phone so tightly she thought it would break into pieces in her hand.
    “I’ll be there as soon as I can. You’re in the hospital, right?”
    “Not now,” she said, feeling another contraction beginning, knowing she wouldn’t have the time or the breath to explain where she was and how she’d gotten there. “But I’ll meet you there. Hurry,” she said again, and broke the connection, and bent over double, one hand clutching the phone, the other one clawing at her back, which felt like it was on fire.
    “Sixty seconds,” Kelly said, clicking the stopwatch.
    “Okay,” said Becky, in a voice so calm and lulling that she could have filled in for the yoga instructor. “I think it’s time to go.” She helped Ayinde back onto the couch. “Do you want me to call your mom?”
    A chuckle worked its way through Ayinde’s lips. “Mom,” she repeated. “I never even called her that. She wouldn’t let me. She wanted me to call her Lolo. People we’d meet who didn’t know us would think that we were sisters. She never would correct them, either.” She made an abrupt, strangled sound. It took Kelly and Becky a