Best Man

"Chaos often breeds life, when order breeds habit."
- Henry B. Adams



Filling out the appropriate health care forms, being shown to her private room, and changing into a hospital gown, Caroline found waiting to give birth was incredibly dull.

She sat in a rocking chair with hospital-issued slippers on her small feet as Mike stood a few feet away from her, pacing, as he called every one of their friends to let them know where they were and what was going on.

Running her hands over her potbelly, the mother-to-be bit her bottom lip and continued to rock back and forth as she watched her husband chatter away like an old wash woman; and it amused her to no end.

They'd been at the UCSF Medical Center in San Francisco for near four hours and nothing had transpired in regard to going into labor. The doctors and nurses said that her water breaking didn't necessarily mean she was about to give birth but that the figurative wheels had been set in motion. However, she could expect to go into labor within the next twenty-four hours.

It was just a matter of waiting at this point.

Continuing to follow Mike with her sleepy hazel eyes as he walked over to the window, pulled the blinds down and peered down at the city life below, Caroline turned to look at the clock and yawned.

It was five thirty-eight in the morning; the sun would be rising shortly and she still hadn't gone to sleep.

"Is anyone going to come here when I go into labor?" Caroline asked when Mike finally pocketed his cell phone.

"Hmm?" Mike turned his head to her; distracted by the cars on the street below weaving in and out of early morning traffic. "Oh, yeah. Pretty much everyone I called said they'd come."

"What do you mean by pretty much everyone?"

"Everyone I called," he smirked.

"How many is 'everyone?' Is the birth going to be a spectator sport? Am I expected to pull off a dismount?"

Mike paused, considered her comment, then grinned. "I think a dismount is what got you pregnant."

The corners of Caroline's lips curled upward as she laughed. "Yeah, probably," she replied with a lighthearted nod. Tilting her head to the side she suddenly shifted her weight in the rocking chair and kept one hand firmly on her stomach.

"You okay?"

"Mmhmm," she insisted. "Baby's moving around. A kicker like its daddy."

"Since when do I kick?"

"Do you recall past concerts where you jump up with your bass and kick one leg out forward?"

"Okay. Point taken."

More minutes passed between the couple and Caroline shifted her weight in the rocking chair so many times, she was surprised her ass didn't wear a hole in the seat. But she just couldn't help it. As the six o'clock hour came and went, her lower half was growing more and more uncomfortable and a dull ache was starting to set in.

"Could you get me a pillow from the bed?" Caroline asked Mike, who was now nursing a cup of decaf coffee from the cafeteria.

"Sure thing, babe." However, just as he moved to reach for the pillow in question, Caroline waved him off. "What?"

"Never mind. It won't help. I think I need to walk around a bit. My feet feel like they're swelling to the size of cantaloupes, I'm feeling crampy and this baby keeps doing somersaults in its damned womb. Not to mention it's continuously pounding on my bladder like a jackhammer."

Mike nodded as she beckoned to him with her right hand so that he'd come to help her up to her feet. Unfortunately, just as he did so, she seemed to buckle over and grab the underside of her stomach and wince.

"Ow, ow, ow..." she groaned.

"You okay?"

"Cramps. Oh...ow." Caroline inhaled a few short and shaky breaths as she looked up at her husband through her eyebrows. "I think they're contractions."

"You sure?"

Caroline nodded. "Get the doctor...or nurse. Whatever."

"If I leave to go get someone, are you gonna be oka---"



"---aaaaaah, Jesus-fucking-Christ on a cracker!" came the banshee-like shriek from Caroline's lips as she laid on a bed with her legs in stirrups; her voice echoing off the delivery room walls.

Mike stood at her side, holding her hand and grimacing in pain at how excruciatingly tight her grip was. He wouldn't dare try and pry his appendage away from her grasp for fear of her somehow jumping free from the stirrups and tackling him like football's notable defensive lineman, Bruce Smith of the Buffalo Bills; later of the Washington Redskins.

He winced as she screamed bloody murder and pleaded for something to end the pain. Anything would do, she was insisting. Drugs, sleeping gas, even a swift kick to the head.

Writhing when she was placed in stirrups, a few sobs escaped from her lips as the contractions came on strong and hard and she found herself gasping lightly as they died away and she could momentarily catch her breath.

"Oh, God, Mike...it feels like someone keeps twisting my insides and stabbing them with a scalding, hot knife," she whimpered when another wave of contractions had disappeared for the time.

"I'm sorry, babe, I wish I could go through this for you," he offered the very cliche reply to his wife.

"So do I!" she snapped back at him as another batch of contractions began to slowly build. "Unh...can I start pushing now?"

"Not just yet, honey," the doctor insisted. "You're not fully dilated."

"Then make me dilated! I want this baby out now!"

While Caroline began going through the new batch of contractions, the elevator doors to the maternity ward dinged open and out burst Billie Joe like a child on crack cocaine. Behind him, in leisured pursuit, was his soon-to-be 40-year-old wife, Adrienne; her left hand gently grasping the leather straps of her purse as she rolled her eyes.

"Billie," she muttered.

"Mike's gonna be a fuckin' dad!"

"Yes. Of this I am well aware. Can we go sit in the waiting room and wait like normal people for just a little bit?" she asked her husband, holding her thumb and index finger about a half inch apart.

"Let me just ask someone how Caroline's doing and if the baby's been born yet."

"I'm sure she's still in labor. Mike woulda called otherwise."

"Can't hurt to ask," the punk rocker pointed out as he sauntered up to the nurse's station and tapped the desk. "Hello lovely nurses, could one you please tell me if my dear friends Mike and Caroline Pritchard have become parents yet?"

A heavyset black woman in her late forties or early fifties raised her eyes to Billie Joe with a devil may care look upon her face.

"And you are related how?"

"Bandmates, brothers for life, best friends...that shit."

"I didn't hear brothers by blood anywhere in there, so I'm technically not allowed to disclose that information to you, under Mr. and Mrs. Pritchard's wish for privacy," she replied as Billie Joe opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off with her knowing grin. "But, because I happen to recognize that pretty mug of yours and know you're name is on the list of people the expecting couple has allowed to know such details to, I can freely say that no child has come yet and the mother is doing fine. She's been prepped and is in labor."

Billie Joe drummed his fingers along the counter top of the nurse's station and smiled at the nurse as he glanced at her name tag. "Estelle, huh? Mike's daughter is named Estelle."

"Yes, I'm well aware," she replied, seemingly trying to get back to the paperwork in front of her. "Clearly you don't remember I was the nurse who took good care of your dear, brother for life when he had his first heart attack two and a half years ago."

With a simple glance she looked up and smiled and then looked back down when the memory dawned on Billie Joe.

"Oh, shit. Yeah. I remember you."

"Billie," came Adrienne's voice from behind him. Turning to look over his shoulder he saw her standing a few feet away but now with Giselle standing next to her. "Hey," he acknowledged. Patting the counter he nodded to Estelle and thanked her before walking over to his wife and Mike's sister-in-law. "Hey, how's it hangin'?"

"Good. Can't believe I'm gonna be an aunt," she replied; scratching at her temple and brushed a rogue curl of hair off her skin.

"You working right now?"

"Yeah," Giselle nodded. "Pulling a double. Imagine the fun I'm having."

"Is Tre here?" Adrienne wondered, somewhat poking her head into the waiting room.

"Not that I know of. Why? Should I know?"

Adrienne looked at Billie Joe who looked back at her, then both at Giselle.

"Well, no, I suppose not, but I just thought that he might be here, and since you're working, you might've seen him if he was here," the older woman explained.

As if by coincidence the elevator doors dinged open once again and Tre stepped out with a plastic bag in his hands and a smile on his lips as he spotted the trio standing together.

"Hey there, hi there, ho there," he announced.

"Hi, what's in the bag?" Billie Joe inquired.

Instead of answering right away, Tre pulled out a package of pink, bubble gum cigars.

"Pink?" Billie Joe questioned, scrunching up his nose and shoving his hands in his pockets. "Aren't you a little premature? The baby hasn't been born yet and no one knows the sex."

"Never fear, I always come prepared," Tre assured as he placed the pink cigars back in the back and withdrew a package of blue bubble gum cigars. "Just in case..."

"Good thinkin', Abe Lincoln."

Tre put the blue cigars back this time as he looked across their circle of friends at Giselle and flashed her a small smile, which she reciprocated.

Since her miscarriage and during her week off from work to recover, as it were, the two of them had still maintained a sort of distance between one another, despite, making amends to some point over the confusion that had surrounded their break up in the first place. However, they hadn't decided to give it another go for the time being, despite how they felt or might still feel about each other.

Giselle said she just needed the time apart to think about where she was with her life at the moment and if she saw them in her future or not. And, to be honest with himself, he wasn't sure how much further their relationship could go now.

He had thought that by discovering why Giselle had turned him away and explained to her that it was okay, that he loved her, and would be at her side no matter what, that their relationship would be restored to its original fervor. But, alas, such was not to be the case. And now he started to wonder if he should hold out for her at all or just try to move on once again.

"Well, Dr. Woods, you have more friends here in the hospital...so...any way you know anything in regard to Caroline, Mike and the baby?" Tre inquired a sterile manner.

"Only what you know," she replied shortly.

"Well, I don't know anything. I just got here."

"Caroline's still in labor and she's doing fine," Billie Joe answered.



"Mike, I don't feel fine," Caroline groaned. "I've heard stories and what pain is supposed to be like during labor, but this doesn't feel right..."

"You're doing just fine, Caroline. But you're still not fully dilated now," the doctor assured and informed.



Two hours later, Oakland's morning traffic was in full swing and both expecting parents were exhausted and running on sheer adrenaline at this point.

"Push," the doctor was finally announcing to Caroline.

"I am, I am!"

"It's okay, honey...take a deep breath and give me some good pushes."

"Shut up, asshole!"

The one-sided bickering on Caroline's part continued as she struggled to push her baby out and was starting to grow more tired from lack of sleep and the strain.

"I can't..." she murmured lazily.

Mike held her hand in his as he leaned forward and pressed his head to her temple. "You can do this, babe. I know you can."

Tilting her head back she turned to look at him as the pain of child birth was taking its toll on her tired body. "I can't," she whispered, blinked and then tried pushing once more until her eyes rolled back and her lids closed.

"Care?" Mike questioned, nervously. "Care? Come on, baby. You can do this. Wake up, Care. Wake up."

"Mr. Pritchard. It's alright, she---"

"Alright?" Mike practically squealed. "My wife just passed out? How can she be alright? Our baby---"

"Mr. Pritchard, for your sake and Caroline's I'm gonna have to ask you to step out of the room for the moment to catch your breath. I'm well aware of your medical history and this stress you're building up is no good, I can assure you that."

"But I---"

"Out," the doctor ordered; gesturing to a male nurse to help assist Mike out of the delivery room even though he struggled a bit at first.

"But I don't wanna miss the birth of my child!" Mike protested. "You can't---"

"We'll bring you back in before that happens. Just go outside and calm...down..."

Mike struggled some more as the male nurse walked him out of the delivery room, with only a glance over his shoulder back at the other nurses forcing Caroline to snap to.

The panic was sending his blood pumping erratically through his veins as he glared at the male nurse and began to pace in place. Unaware that the foursome was down the hall and had spotted him, Mike walked from one side of the hall to the other; working himself up instead of calming himself down.

"Please be okay, please be okay," he chanted over and over as he suddenly saw stars before his eyes. "Guh," came an indecipherable muttering from his lips as he grasped at his chest with his right hand and his knees buckled; falling backward to the linoleum floor.

"Mike!" Tre shouted as he, along with Billie Joe, Adie, Giselle and several nurses ran up to the fallen bassist. "Oh God, no! He can't survive a third attack..."