Chapter 49: The First Separate Breath

The fourth contraction caught Su with the marker in her hand. When it let go, she had crossed out both columns of Evan's laminated plan and written WHICHEVER ONE HURTS LESS across the middle. Marisol read it over her shoulder. "Clinically sound." "That was seven pages," Evan said. "Then you lost nothing you needed." Su pressed the marker into his palm. "Keep it. I may have notes." The rear clinic at White Pine had been stripped to a sink, an exam table and two heaters. Washed blankets covered a mattress on the floor. The fetal monitor stood where Su's formula book used to sit. February rain ticked at the alley door, and inside the wall the old pharmacy pipes knocked in small, uneven taps. Evan knelt behind her while she leaned across the mattress. The loose shirt hid most of her. Scale ran down her right arm to the tapered…