Power Play: Bailey and the Professor Read online

  She didn’t even hear the girl in the other stall, not at first. Not until Bailey had calmed down a little, blown her nose with toilet paper, and wiped her eyes. Then she heard it—a long, low groan that grew louder and then faded to a throaty “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

  Bailey sniffed. Apparently she wasn’t the only one with problems. Maybe she should invite her sister-in-suffering home for ice cream. Then she heard a stall opening, water running. Good. The girl was leaving. Bailey could suffer as she usually did—alone.

  “Ohhhhh no no no, not again!”

  Bailey sat bolt upright, eyes wide. She’d just heard that voice—hadn’t she? Wasn’t it the same girl who’d told her to fuck off?

  “Fuuucccckkk!” The voice was almost a wail.

  Yeah. It was the same girl. Bailey was sure of it. Had she been in here, sick the whole time? She opened her own stall to peer out, seeing the girl bent over the sink. Bailey had left her in a similar position. But she was determined not to leave her now. The girl obviously needed help. Bailey was about to ask, but the girl started to wail again, rocking and grabbing onto the edge of the sink so hard her knuckles were white.

  She took a step toward the girl and she realized in that instant what all the groaning was about. All the baggy black clothing—a long skirt and peasant blouse—had hidden it from her.

  “When are you due?” Bailey put her backpack down and took off her jacket, edging closer to the girl whose forehead rested against the mirror now, her breath fogging it in short, harsh pants.

  “Right about now.” The goth didn’t open her eyes. “It’s been going on all day but I thought I could get through… ohhhhh fuck fuck fuck!”

  Bailey glanced at her watch—like any good wannabe nurse, she wore an analog with a true second hand—putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder as she struggled through another contraction, her forehead bent to the mirror. The rising moan caught in her throat at the point of highest pain. Bailey noted the catch, the breath-holding, and the low grunt with a dawning feeling of dread.

  “First baby?” Probably a stupid question, Bailey told herself, but she had to ask. If it was a first baby, they likely had plenty of time, even if the girl was dilated to ten. Pushing could take hours for a first. A second baby, however…

  “Third,” the girl gasped, moaning softly as she turned, her back to the wall now, facing Bailey. “Fuck, this isn’t happening.”

  Third? Bailey looked at the girl, wondering if she’d misjudged her age.

  The goth’s eyes opened wide in sudden surprise and she yelped, glancing down at the fluid pooling between her feet.

  “Your water broke.” Bailey’s heart thudded in her chest and her stomach dropped to the floor. “I think we better call an ambulance.”

  “I’m not sure we have time.” The goth’s eyes were so wide they were like silver coins, her blue eyes bright, surrounded by black coal. “My second came in three pushes.”

  Three. Bailey assessed the situation quickly, grabbing her cell phone out of her backpack and cursing when she saw no bars.

  “Ohhhhhh nooooooo!” The goth girl covered her face with her arms, sinking down the wall as another relentless contraction hit. “This isn’t happening! This isn’t happening!”

  Then her words morphed into moans and grunts that Bailey knew were pushes. This baby was coming, and coming fast. She washed her hands quickly at the sink—just in case.

  “I’m going to go out in the hall and try to call 911.” Bailey squatted down so the girl could hear.

  “No!” The goth opened her eyes, panicked, gripping Bailey’s arm. “Please don’t leave me!”

  Bailey sighed, glancing toward the door, hearing the click of heels on the tile. She expected them to pass by but the door swung open. Shelby, the busty curve-setter in all Bailey’s classes, gaped at the two of them on the floor.

  “What the hell?” Shelby blinked in surprise as the door swung closed behind her.

  But Bailey didn’t have time to respond because the goth girl was having another contraction and this was a big one. She let the girl squeeze her hand, hearing that tell-tale breath holding again, watching the goth’s face scrunch up and turn red with effort. She was pushing. No doubt about it.

  Shelby didn’t move, frozen in place the whole time. Bailey didn’t even look up at her, watching the goth girl’s face relax, head tilting forward, breath slowing. Poor thing was exhausted, had probably been laboring all day, trying to convince herself she wasn’t in labor at all. This isn’t happening. Right. Except it was.

  “Ummm… Professor Jacobs was looking for you.” Shelby had one hand on the door.

  That made Bailey’s head swivel. She’s almost forgotten about all of that.

  “You need to call 911,” Bailey insisted. “Right now.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” Shelby’s voice was small. She sounded scared.

  “Nothing.” Bailey smiled. “She’s just having a baby.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “I can’t get a signal in here.” Bailey shoved her phone back into her backpack, glancing over her shoulder at a girl she’d secretly hated for weeks, the one who accepted all A’s with glowing eyes and a satisfied smirk. Now it was Bailey who was in control, who knew exactly what to do, while Shelby cringed and looked away.

  “Go! Call! Now!” Bailey’s tone made Shelby bolt and the girl fled out the door.

  Bailey could only hope she would call 911. She was pretty sure she could handle this. She’d attended lots of births with Joanna, who did about four births a month as a doula. She’d never actually caught a baby though. And she knew there were things that could happen, still, that she might not be ready for or able to handle.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Uhhhh….” The goth’s head nodded like a junkie on heroin. Her endorphins had kicked in and she was riding the wave. “Sunny.”

  The irony. Bailey squeezed Sunny’s hand, trying to give them both courage.

  “An ambulance is on the way, Sunny,” she said, hoping she was speaking the truth. “But I think your baby may arrive before then.”

  “Oooooohhh fuccckkkkk another one!” Sunny’s eyes opened wide and wild, searching for a way out of the pain.

  “Okay, look at me, look at me!” Bailey grabbed her other hand, trying to get her to focus. Sunny moaned and shook her head, trying to pull away, still looking to escape.

  “Ohhhhhh it’s coming! It’s coming!” She closed her eyes against it, biting her lip so hard Bailey saw blood seeping from the wound.

  “Sunny, I need to check. I need to see.” Bailey was already hiking the girl’s skirt up and she didn’t object. She was clearly pushing. Who knew how close the baby was to being born? Sunny’s knees fell open like she knew what was coming. Bailey had no gloves and she was squatting in a pool of amniotic fluid. There goes the idea of universal precautions.

  “Ohhhh I’m pushing!” Sunny announced, grabbing her knees and bearing down hard.

  Bailey grabbed the elastic edge at the crotch of the girl’s white cotton panties, amused at this choice of underwear underneath all the black, pulling it aside. What she saw both terrified and thrilled her. Sunny hadn’t been kidding when she said it was coming. It was almost here.

  “It burns!” Sunny gasped. “Oh god, help me, help me!”

  “I am.” Bailey cupped her hand over the baby’s emerging scalp. It was covered in soft black down. “You’re doing great.”

  The door opened behind them and Bailey cringed, knowing what a sight they must be, Sunny with her back against the tile, knees up, crotch exposed, and Bailey squatting in front of her like a catcher waiting for the pitch.

  “Do you need help?” The male voice startled her and she looked up to see professor Jacobs hesitating in the doorway, his blue eyes wide but not afraid. “Shelby told me…”

  “Ahhhhhh it burns!” Sunny moaned, tucking her chin in to her chest as she pushed again and Bailey felt the girl’s labia parting under her palm, the
baby’s head descending further.

  “Can you wet some paper towel?” Bailey asked him softly over her shoulder, wondering if Sunny was going to tear. She tried to remember everything she’d learned about supporting the perineum to keep that from happening as Jacobs did as she asked, bringing over a stack of damp brown paper towels.

  “Put one on her forehead.”

  Sunny’s eyes fluttered open and she thanked him with a weary smile as he pressed it against her damp forehead. Her body was clearly working very hard.

  “I could use a towel or something to wrap the baby in,” Bailey mused, turning her focus back to Sunny. “This baby is coming fast. Is the ambulance on the way?”

  “Yes.” Jacobs didn’t hesitate. He knelt on the floor in a mix of amniotic fluid and blood, unbuttoning his white dress shirt before she knew it. “I called them myself.”

  “Ohhhh no! No! No!” Sunny was still trying to pretend this wasn’t happening.

  “Sunny!” Bailey said the girl’s name sharply and her eyes snapped open. “Listen to me. Your baby is coming. It’s going to be born. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay, and so is your baby. I’ve done this before. Trust me.”

  Sunny hesitated, looking at Jacobs like she must be dreaming, but then she nodded, whispering, “I’m scared.”

  “It’s okay,” Bailey soothed, her other hand stroking the girl’s inner thigh. “You’re doing great. Perfect. I think your baby’s head is going to be born with the next push. Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

  “A boy.” Sunny’s eyes closed again, her head nodding. She was floating away on endorphins again.

  “You’ve done this before?” Jacobs pulled his shirt tails out of his jeans, which were going to be ruined after this. He took his suit coat off, draping it over one of the sinks, and then peeled off his shirt. She couldn’t help but notice the man was just as perfect under his clothes as he seemed, sporting six-pack abs any male model would be proud of. His chest was wide but not too wide, his arms nicely defined but not overly muscled.

  “Sort of.” She felt more amniotic fluid flowing under her hand and she knew Sunny’s uterus was beginning to contract again, forcing the fluid out, the baby’s head further down. Her labia was stretched wide, the baby’s head making it into an oval under Bailey’s palm.

  “Ohhhhhhh God!” Sunny moaned, head thrashing from side to side. “I can’t! I can’t!”

  “Yes you can,” Jacobs said before Bailey could even open her mouth. “You are.”

  “Please help me! Get it out! I want it out!” Sunny moaned and arched and a low, guttural noise began in her throat and then disappeared as her breath caught and her body began to push. Bailey knew she had no choice.

  “Okay, easy now, let your body do the work,” Bailey urged. The baby’s head was past crowning now. It was easing its way out. She turned to Jacobs. “Hold her panties aside for me?”

  “Uhhhh….” He swallowed and blinked at her but he reached out and hooked a finger in the elastic, doing as she asked. It gave Bailey more room to work.

  “He’s turtling,” she whispered to herself, seeing the baby’s head out up to his little eyebrows. He had a full, gorgeous dark head of hair. “Damnit. Damnit!”

  “Turtling?” Her professor blinked at her and she had a moment of surrealness. Was this really happening?

  “Shoulder dystocia. Ummm. He’s big and his shoulder is getting stuck behind the pubic bone.” She felt a rise of panic in her throat and fought it. She’d never delivered a baby, had only ever watched. She’d seen a few instances of this happening and had watched the solution, but had never done it herself. She’d only read about it.

  “What do we do?” He tossed his shirt over his shoulder to keep it out of the way.

  “I need to get his arm…” Bailey looked down and saw the top of the baby’s head turning dark, dusky. Blue. He was losing oxygen. Was there a cord stuck somewhere? They didn’t have a lot of time. “Crap.”

  “What’s wrong?” Sunny’s eyes flew open. “Is he okay?”

  “Sunny, I want you to hold…” She hesitated, realizing she couldn’t call him “Professor Jacobs” under these circumstances.

  He anticipated her with a smile. “Dom.”

  “Sunny, take Dom’s hand.” Bailey instructed. “Squeeze. Squeeze hard. But don’t push until I tell you, okay?”

  Sunny nodded, panting, eyes gone wild and panicked again.

  “It’s okay,” Dom murmured. “Squeeze as hard as you want.”

  “Oh! Owwwww! What are you doing?” Sunny cried, trying to get away from Bailey’s probing fingers.

  “Squeeze!” Dom insisted, getting Sunny’s attention. “Squeeze my hand!”

  “Owwww! FUCK! OWW! NOOOOO!”

  Sunny screamed.

  Literally screamed.

  Everyone in the building had to have heard it.

  But Bailey had it. She had found the crook of the baby’s shoulder with her fingers and she eased the baby’s arm up the birth canal. Sunny’s scream echoed off the tile walls and then it happened so fast it was a blur. With the shoulder dislodged, the baby slid out like a slippery fish and Bailey caught him, trying to hold on. For a moment she thought she was going to lose her grip, but then Dom was there, cradling the infant in his shirt.

  The two of them lifted the baby up to Sunny’s waiting arms. She sobbed, gathering him up and rocking him. Bailey felt tears stinging her own eyes and when she glanced at Dom, she thought his eyes looked suspiciously glassy. He blinked and cleared his throat, looking at the baby.

  “He’s not crying. Is he okay?” Sunny looked up at them.

  “Babies don’t have to cry as soon as they’re born.” Bailey laughed, reaching over and shading the baby’s face from the fluorescent lights with her hand. His squint turned to a wide-eyed stare at his mother’s face and she watched, smiling, as the two of them fell in love. It was the only love at first sight Bailey had ever witnessed.

  “What about the… uh… cord?” Sunny looked at the thick, still-pulsing umbilical cord still attached to baby. “Aren’t we supposed to cut it?”

  “Don’t worry.” Dom spoke up, surprising Bailey. “The only reason they cut cords so fast in hospitals is so they can separate mom and baby. They want to weigh and measure and get all their jobs done.”

  “Oh.” Sunny blinked in surprise, looking between them and then down at the baby in her arms, getting lost again in his gaze.

  Bailey was still looking at Dom like he’d grown two heads. She couldn’t believe he’d said it—or even known. Immediate cord cutting wasn’t so much a procedure that had grown out of evidence-based medicine but rather a hospital policy created for the convenience of staff.

  “Shouldn’t we cover his head?” Dom mused, looking around the bathroom for a solution to the problem. Bailey watched, incredulous, as he stood and leaned against one of the sinks to untie his tennis shoe. He was wearing white athletic socks and he tugged one off.

  “Work?” He held it out to her. “It’s clean—I just showered and put it on before I left for class tonight.”

  “It’s kind of brilliant, actually.” Bailey met his eyes, taking the sock from his hand, and something happened when they touched. She didn’t know if it was just the adrenaline still coursing through her or his proximity—she was eye-level with the man’s crotch and she could have counted each of his zipper’s teeth if she wanted to—but she felt something between them that hadn’t been there before. He’d always been very professional with her. Even a bit stern. But the warmth in his eyes now was like walking out of an ice-cold freezer into a sultry, Miami heat. The change was sudden and astonishing.

  The baby cried, a soft mewling cry, like a kitten, and it broke whatever spell they were under. Bailey turned toward Sunny and she smiled at the way the now elated new mother had already forgotten the pain of labor. She was too enamored with her newborn.

  “Here, let’s put this on. Babies lose eighty percent of their body heat through their heads.”
Bailey couldn’t help laughing as she slipped the open end of his sock over the baby’s dark, downy head. He had very little vernix—the white wax-like substance that protected babies from amniotic fluid in the womb—which indicated he had come on time or even a little late. He looked great—good color, lungs sounded clear, bright eyes, everything intact.

  “Apgars of seven and nine, I’d say.” Dom had put his shoe back on and was leaning over to look at the baby. Sunny was checking her baby over like every new mother always did—ten fingers, ten toes.

  Bailey blinked up at Dom, and she knew he saw the question in her eyes. How did he know about the Apgar scale? The test was actually developed in the 1950s, when most mothers were heavily drugged during childbirth. Those babies were often born with poor reflexes and some even struggled to breathe because the drugs they gave the mother crossed the placenta and went into the baby. The test was developed to quickly assess the newborn and was named after the anesthesiologist who developed it. There were several factors involved, but it basically went from a score of 0—which would be a floppy baby, not breathing, no pulse—to ten, which would be a perfect score.

  This little guy wasn’t perfect, but close. She completely agreed with Dom’s assessment.

  “You should keep him wrapped up if you can,” Bailey said to Sunny, wondering if Dom had once been pre-med. At least that would explain all his medical knowledge. “Or skin to skin. Keep him warm. I can see if we can get him to latch on… are you breastfeeding?”

  “Oh… no…” Sunny shook her head, frowning for the first time since her son had been born. “I’m… he’s… he’s not mine.”

  “I’m pretty sure giving birth to him makes him yours,” Dom said, leaning over to pull his sock down further on the baby’s head.