The Promise (prose, short story)

by Constance R.

He winced as she gripped his hand tighter, his own breathing quickening as she struggled with her hyperventilation. He could only watch as the pain twisted her face, the tears and the lights that hung menacingly above blinding her.

"It's okay" He spoke gently, his voice hushed, trying to swallow his own panic and giddiness. "Come on--come on, you can do it."

He was Peter, freshly 16 with light brown hair that managed to hang just in the center of his vision, soft heather-blue eyes and a complexion that seemed to pale with the passing minutes. She was Dana, also a delicate 16, with black hair that now fell in wisps about her grimacing face and dark eyes that were squinting at the swarming world before her. She was the one he promised to protect, to never leave. The one he swore forever to. Together they were two quiet people, innocent and the essence of what their small community would have once called perfect and sweet. But they were now imperfect--misshapen, shunned, and glared at from newspapers and porches as the passed silently by, heads bowed, hands clasped tightly; one stomach knotted in shame and the other's bulging with a promise and curse.

Peter stroked Dana's hand lovingly as it trembled uncontrollably, as her fingers dug into his skin and her voice cracked and trailed off to disgruntled groans. The people's eyes in the hospital had held the same judgement as their friends and neighbors, critically tearing at them as they had stumbled in through the pouring rain, dripping and crying, unsure of how the life they had brought was to make it safely into the world. He had refused to leave her to the nurses and doctors, clinging to her hand, letting her know that a small part of the world was there to love.

He could remember the night, nearly nine months ago. Dana had been curled in his arms, the stars far above and the world seeming to hold its breath as they regained control of theirs. She had cried, silently, and after sleep had taken away the immediate shame he had also shed his tears. Somehow, he'd felt it that night--as if he could already hear the tiny heart beat, the gentle prodding of feet against flesh and the curious shape that would be revealed by an ultrasound. He thought Dana had known too. Or not. He wasn't sure.

As she had cried, he had whispered his assurance to her that his love was steadfast, and that no matter what hurricanes of trouble may come over them that he would always be there. He would not desert her--not for anything. He'd proven that to himself now, as he gripped her hand, through her blood and his brimming tears. He now knew for certain.

The shrill cry scared him at first, he and Dana's hearts hammering as one. But once it subsided to a steady, throbbing noise that filled the room, as the source was cleaned, wrapped up in a soft blanket and handed to him, the tears cascaded down his face. Rocking the child, Peter shook with his own sobs, looking down at Dana, who's eyes seemed far away and who's mouth gaped open as she drew ragged breaths. He brought her hand to his lips, kissing it gingerly, a smile breaking through.

"It's okay" he whispered to her, the child's cries subsiding as if on cue, the two of them peering down at her tear-streaked face. Peter leaned close, clutching the baby protectively, letting the child and Dana's cheeks brush one another gently. "We're going to make it--Just hang in there. It's over, I'm here...he's here. We'll pull through, I promise, I promise..."