Don't Call Me Dead

14. Bonding Experience

I sit up in my bed and scream.

The man jumps in surprise and drops the pot  he was eating from. He turns around, his expression of horror quickly morphing into a wide smile.

"You're awake!" he exclaims. "At last!"

I just stare at him, panting, not quite seeing him, completely absorbed in my sensations. There're so many of them. I'm hot, I'm cold, my forehead is sweaty, my ankle hurts where the rope is rubbing against my skin, and, worst of all, there's an excruciating pain in my lower back and abdomen. It feels like some invisible hand is squeezing my insides. It subsides for a few seconds, and then rises again, swallowing me like a wave. I open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.

"Are you okay?" the man says.

The wave of pain retreats, and I can breath again. I take a few gasping breaths and then realize with horror that the pain is returning.

"No," I shout at him. "I'm not okay! I'm giving birth! I need a doctor!"

"Oh," he says, and starts running around the room, picking things and dropping them back to the floor. "No need, no need. I know what to do." He finally retrieves a book from under a coat on the floor and returns to me. "I know exactly what to do," he says, showing me an old paperback edition of 'What to expect when you're expecting'. "I've read all about it."

"Seriously?" I snap. "Did you find this in some dead backpacker's bag, too?"

"No, it was Mom's." He strikes the shabby cover reverently. "But I've read it, so don't worry. I'll boil some water, prepare what's needed, and ... does your back hurt? I can massage –"

"My back is freaking killing me!" I shriek as another wave of pain hits me, and then I can't speak for a while. "You got to... get me to... a hospital," I manage at last.

But as I speak, I remember that the closest hospital is two days walk from here, and I couldn't even walk two steps in my current state.

He shakes his head, skipping through the pages of the book. "You need to breath," he says. "In and out, like that, okay? It will help."

"It doesn't help! I try it, it doesn't!" I'm going to die here, I know it. Can't I leave my body again? What a bad timing to return to it. The pain must have brought me back, somehow. Perhaps my body was unable to handle it without my mind to help.

"Breath." He sits down next to me and takes my hand. "You can do it. I'll help you. I'll be here all the time."

"I don't ... want you... here..." I say through clenched teeth. "I don't... want to be here... myself."

He smiles. "But birth is a very important bonding experience for a couple," he says. "I've read all about it. I'll just bring some water, and then I'll be right with you. Don't worry." He squeezes my hand and whispers, as a new pang of pain squeezes the breath out of me, "Communication is the key in a relationship. I'm so glad we're talking again."