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Julius Caesar - Chapter 67

Published at 31st of March 2019 09:20:09 PM


Chapter 67

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Time doesn't fly.

Time, I think, dies. Every moment that passes takes its time and also takes a part of me, then together die. With every moment that has passed a part of me died along with the time it killed. This part of me- a feeling, a piece of your heart, a tear- long gone.

It all dies. And when that happens, I always find myself at the funeral of a time that- oh, will never come back and at a part of me that I- oh, cherished and lost. So many funerals. So many memories.

All the terrible things I've been through are dead and buried with the dark days they infested. They are now no more than gloomy funerals that I don't bother to attend anymore.

It's the death of time, not its flying that made me get over all what had happened. It's the death of time that made me look at Father while he confessed and it is that that made me decide that the moment I lost spending with him wasn't even worth losing a part of me along with it- not even as a tear.

And when I realized that I had so many terrible funerals, I knew I needed a change.

And so, I changed. Or more of tried to.

I deeply inhale the cool, fresh air of mid-December, link my arm with Samantha's for the hundredth time this month to start our daily 'dosage' of walking, because apparently, walking eases a woman's labour pains.

The streets are damp and the breeze is light with a hint of dust, slapping my face and a few hair strands into Samantha's mouth.

Samantha is padding next to me, buried under a knee-length woollen, black dress with a huge, colourful scarf wrapped around her neck several times, hiding all of her pink, winter-kissed face except for her cerulean, alert eyes. One of my grey beanies covered her hair and her swollen feet were clad in a pair of my loafers.

She clings to me like she has done for the last few days and tells me how cold she feels and how she wouldn't be surprised if it's snowing for the baby already. I smile again as if it's the first time I hear her saying this and plant a kiss on top of her head as we start walking.

The streets are fairly empty considering the fact that it's six-thirty in the morning except for a few cyclists or runners who were enjoying the weak, winking sunrays that burst through the thick blanket of clouds.

Oh and also, of course, except for an old couple- oh, sorry, the old couple- whom we have seen almost every day and with whom Samantha forced me to stand by as she talked to them (while I avoided eye contact with the old lady who'd keep blankly staring at me). Then I'd have to suffer through their 'why-not-ask-intrusive-questions' session in which Samantha seemed to have no problem participating in with a hand on her baby bump.

All I can say is that they are the first people that actually made me wish I could speak.

That was until I, of course, made it clear to Samantha that I don't want to 'talk' with them again.


Samantha waves at them and I look away quickly so they'd think that I haven't noticed them.

God.

Samantha must've seen the displeased look on my face because she giggles and shakes her head. "One day, we will be like them," she says and I frown just at the idea.

Ha, so I'll be sitting with my wife in my mid-eighties in a park, spending quality time ogling at strangers with a creepy-meant-to-be-nice smile.

Like that's ever going to happen. I scoff and shove my hands in my jacket's pockets.

Samantha laughs again and my frown dissolves away. "I meant the part about how they're still enjoying their lives together at this age."

'Enjoying' hmm.

I nod distractedly as we pass by the park still disturbed by the idea that my brain seems to have a blast materializing.

"You know what I really wish would happen?" Samantha then asks out of nowhere, snapping me out of the little fiesta my brain was having (yes, only, really including old me staring at young couples and smiling disturbingly).

She then stops walking to observe me with her brilliant, blue eyes. I even had to squint at how bright they shone.

I raise my eyebrows, pull her to the side of the street, on the walking pavement and offer her a weak smile in response. Before she opens her mouth I raise my index finger, step closer to her and pick an eyelash that rested on her rosy cheek. Her eyes flutter and I have to resist the urge to kiss her breathless.

She watches me as I take her small, sweaty hand in mine and give her the eyelash. I then smile playfully and raise an eyebrow. Now she can really make a wish.

She blushes beautifully and giggles light-heartedly. "Nice one, Caesar," she says.

I hold her arms and pull her closer to me as she closes her eyes and starts murmuring her wish to the cold gusts of wind. "I wish the baby would come before Christmas so that we would have an amazing one." She then tugs at me, biting her lower lip in excitement. "Can you imagine it, Caesar? In two weeks?"

I tilt my head and smile in response, before planting an innocent kiss to her forehead. She then looks down, blows the eyelash away and looks up to grin at me.

I exhale loudly and am about to link my arm with hers again to continue walking when she tightly clutches my arms.

I raise my eyebrows with a smirk that disappears really quickly when I look at her face. Her eyes are wide and her lips a perfect 'o'.

"Oh my God," she then whispers as I hear some splashing. We both almost instantly look down at the 'was-damp-now-wet-pavement' and my heart stops for a second. Two maybe.

Holy shit.

"Fuck me, it's happening!" she exclaims, slapping my arms as I breathlessly stare at the little amount of water trickling down her legs.

It's actually happening. Wow. Wow.

"Julius! Julius, it's happening! It's happening!" she then tightens her grasp around my arms and grunts in pain. She opens her eyes again and looks at me like I know what to do.

As a matter of fact, she went over with me about what to do in case she goes into labour at any time. I was sure I knew everything. Until now. Really. I was never so blank in my entire life.

Throwing all that we had practised together in the nearest dustbin, I do what any sane man would've done.

I carry her in my arms with a grunt and run all the way back to the house to get to my car. She occasionally bites down on my biceps and I feel her wet my shirt as I walk briskly past the old couple, trying to make it appear that it is absolutely normal for a man to run with his pregnant wife in the streets.

Yeah, no, didn't work.

They get up and approach me and I do what I've been wanting to do for the past month. I give them my signature 'if-you-don't-back-the-fuck-off-you're-done' glare. It never fails to work.

And all I have in mind is how effective that damn wish is as I stand by the car.

"YOU DON'T HAVE THE KEYS!" she yells/exclaims between gritted teeth and my heart falls unpleasantly in realization.

I'm not sure I want any of this damned wish now, I think as I let her down for a moment and pat all my pockets.

Samantha is, needless to say, freaking out and going on about 'what the hell are you doing?' and her 'oh my days' and her 'shit, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts'.

But I don't think she is freaking out as much as I am right now because I know that I don't even know where the damned keys are. They're in the house obviously. But where in the house? God knows where.

I frantically gesture for her to stay in her place before rushing into the house. My eyes are wide and seeking any shiny thing. I run my hands through my hair and rush up the spiralling stairs, my heart screaming in my chest.

And then I remember. I left the keys on the piano yesterday when I came back home and found Samantha tired and 'in need' of some music.

I barge into Samantha's room and sigh in relief when I find them waiting for me on top of the white, shiny piano.

I dash down the stairs, almost stumbling on air over the last few before leaving the house with a door slam.

Samantha is bending over the car cover and squeezing shut her eyes in apparent pain.

I freeze in place and my heart clenches in my chest as I imagine the kind of pain she must be going through. She then looks up at me with clenched teeth and groans.

"What the hell are you waiting for?! For the baby to pop the fuck out?!"

I immediately unlock the car and carry her to the back seat when she resists.

"I want to be next to you, you idiot!" The hostility painted on her face contradicts her words, and I have to resist the urge to laugh because it was really cute.

I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if she decides to spit at me as she watches my smile fade away.

She breathes in deeply as I help her to the passenger's seat and close the door. I get to the driver's seat and thrust the key to power the car up.

And we are on the move.

"Oh my God, what is this?" She talks to herself and I get distracted and glance at her. "What is this? What is this?" She repeats puffing out some air and I immediately stop the car at the side of the street resulting in several 'beeps' and especially intriguing vocabulary.

I take her hand and watch her with concern. She stops, caught off guard by my gesture and then grimaces.

"What the fuck you stopping for?!" she exclaims and I frown still observing her. She seems to have understood because she actually breathes out a painful laugh.

"I was talking about the pain-!" she says, pressing her hand to her abdomen. "I've never experienced this- this-"

She then gasps and I shake my head alertly, starting the car again. I swerve past cars as Samantha grasps on my right forearm, digging her nails in my skin.

The hospital is near. It's quite near.

Havoc created by car honks and mad drivers' curses arises behind me as I careen around corners and cut traffic lights until I stop right in front of the hospital's front gate. I immediately shuffle out of the car and rush into the hospital, asking for a wheelchair- which is quite tedious because even when I feel the words crawl to the back of my tongue in urgency, they just get swooshed away. So I make a lot of wild hand and arm gestures until the Philipino lady I am 'talking' to understands and helps me out.

I watch Samantha get helped on the wheelchair as the immense fright of losing her emerges out of my anxiety-married brain. I have occasionally, certainly found myself surfing the web for the dangers of pregnancy and giving birth and I did find some discouraging incidents that did scare me for life.

But then faith, as you would tell me, Sharon. I have to have some faith that things would turn out right this one time.

I follow the nurses like a lost puppy with a quite non-functioning heart, staring at Samantha's tear-stained face as she tries seeking my face in all this commotion. A wave of pain seems to have come over her because she tears her eyes from me, leaving me the backs of those hurrying nurses to convey my woes with.

I decide to run by her side.

I know I can't say a word for the life of me to comfort her like normal husbands do in the movies we'd watched together. And I hate it so much that I can't be them at least for today.

The nurses exchange medical jargon that I try so hard to understand but fail as we push past a heavy double-door. Everything, every sound, seems to have been lost in the heaviness of Samantha's breathing and my deafening heartbeat.

She's going to give you a new life, breathe- I remind myself as a nurse in pink stops me and asks me if I'd like to attend my first child's birth. I am caught off guard by her question, but Samantha is nodding hard, looking in my eyes like she's terrified to go beyond that door alone.

Then I remember what Father had told me. I have to be there at every important moment in her life. I have to be strong.

I cannot miss this.

I nod and the nurse takes me into another room where she hands me scrubs, a mask and a surgery cap. I am more intimidated by the outfit than by what I am going to attend in a few moments.

When I enter the assigned operation room, I find Samantha in bed. She is engulfed by a baggy, baby-blue dress, her face red and sweaty and her eyes teary and wide. My heart stops for a second at the sight of her deeply bit lower lip before I stand by her side.

I kneel next to her and my eyebrows furrow in great concern. I take her left hand and she squeezes it hard as she locks her blazing, ocean eyes with mine. Tears escape silently and I feel the pressure that the words are exerting increase more and more. She is literally giving me a part of her and all I give her is this crippling speechlessness. But she understands. I know she does. All it takes is a look in her magnificent eyes.

But I want to say so many things. That- God, I love you. You're great just giving life to a piece of us. That you will hold on. Because you are the strongest woman I've ever known. That- God, you are the reason why I'm still holding on. And I swear by your bright eyes, I've never seen anything as exquisite as you. Just like this. Holding on and enduring all that pain. For me. For us. For our happiness.

And even as I feel the words almost burst out, the only thing that surfaces is an unsure, hesitant smile.

The doctor comes in, pulling on her latex gloves while commanding the nurses to do whatever they are meant to be doing. My heart jumps as she settles on the chair at the foot of the bed and asks Samantha to open her legs on the stirrups.

The doctor peeks at Samantha's sweaty, panting face and attempts a smile. "Okay, sweetie, I think we're ready to start."

And that is all it took for Samantha to start breathing deeply, deep enough for her neck to go taut and red. Her eyes bulge with every push as she squeezes the life out of my hand. But it is okay. It'll all be okay, I have to remind myself.

She pants heavily and chants how she 'can't do it anymore'. But I shake my head and kiss her hand multiple times as the doctor encourages her that 'it's almost over'.

Samantha is crying from the pain and pushing through like there is no tomorrow. She even prays God through her teeth in rapid, shaky breaths that I am sure He can hear.

And I pray for her too. In my heart with all of it.

And I know she's wilting from the pain, but I also know that she is capable of overcoming it all. She will make it. She has to. I know.

And she makes it.

A couple of minutes later of sheer exhaustion for Samantha, the shrill cry of a baby- oh, wait- of my baby shatters the tense atmosphere and frees my heart from its rusty shackles.

"It's a girl!" The doctor announces and I know I've never felt this kind of happiness and relief in my life.

I have just become a father.

I quickly look at Samantha and grin widely, before planting a plethora of kisses to the side of her sweaty, glistening face.

We have a daughter!

"It's a girl, Caesar! It's a girl!" she squeaks with tears in her dancing eyes and I almost puke (as odd as it sounds) at how amazing this feels.

My heart gallops in my chest as I see a nurse with a mask over her face carry a little bundle in her hands and approach us carefully.

"Congratulations!" she says softly, handing the baby to a beaming Samantha.

I remove the hair matted to Samantha's forehead that obscures her vision as she observes our daughter. She gasps then smiles so widely before looking at me with wide, teary eyes. She sniffs.

"She is so beautiful!"

My heart grows and I am about to peer at my baby when the nurse asks me to leave the room for a while and swipes the baby from Samantha's arms. I am irritated by her intervention, but I am not going to fight of course, because I know I'll have the time of my life to stare at my baby.

When I'm done glaring at the nurse who was only doing her work, I turn and smile widely at Samantha before I leave the room.

Maybe they need to clean Samantha up. Or ready the baby. I have no idea and my curiosity is eating away at me as I sit on one of the metal benches in front of her room in torturous patience, my head in my hands and my elbows on my knees.

I tap my feet and almost jump from my seat when a nurse comes out, only to congratulate me again and tell me that I should have some refreshments while they ready Samantha and the baby.

I sigh and sit back down. I then remember something that excites me to the core and reach for my wallet. I flip it open and reach for the key I kept wedged in for almost the past two months.

It is the key to Samantha's floral shop. I smile to myself, knowing how she'll love it. It's right in the centre of the action, next to our new house in London which I have decided we will move into after she gives birth. Many people will be buzzing about it every day. She'll probably find many other old couples to chatter with.

Thinking about London naturally makes me think about Augustus and how I decided not to leave London. As it happens, I've lost a lot, and I didn't want to lose my home too. I mean, there are a lot of horrendous memories, but there are many good ones too. And really, all of them involve Augustus and Samantha. I couldn't lose that.

When I said I tried to change, I wasn't playing around.

The past few months were the most important and most difficult months of my life. Yet, I managed to make several essential decisions, all for the sake of my family's life. Yes, I did cry some times, but I helped myself up. You helped too, Sharon.

Lost in another world, I am suddenly yanked back to reality by the nurse who took my baby away, telling me that my wife is ready to see me now.

I replace the wallet in the scrub's pocket, keeping the key enclosed in my hand. I then get up and follow the nurse back inside.

Samantha is now sitting up, staring at the door expectantly, looking clean yet terribly pale with her hair pulled up in a messy bun, her back to the bed rest and our baby in her arms. Her legs are covered under the white blanket except for her red sock-clad toes that peek out.

I grin, my heart in my mouth and approach her bed. She is watching me as I walk behind her and peek over her shoulder before taking our daughter from her arms. And suddenly everything feels so surreal.

She is a rosy, beautiful, fidgeting thing with tiny legs, ridiculously tiny fists and her mother's, brilliant, glistening blue eyes that stare at me with a promise of eternal love. Her tiny lips form a small 'o' and I am not sure if my lungs are working. I carefully touch her soft, white-blonde hair and suddenly believe in so many things.

I believe in miracles. And in immense love at first sight.

"You seem so shocked-" Samantha chuckles tiredly while I keep observing my daughter's little nose and thinking of whom she gets it from.

"What do you reckon should we name her?" Samantha then asks and I look at her, my heart pounding fast.

"Roseline?" she suggests. "Diana? Sharon?" I raise a mocking eyebrow and she shakes her head with a grin.

"I know you hate that name, I was joking."

Of course, she was. She better have been.

"Lourena?"

I am thinking. It's coming to me. I can feel it.

"Elizabeth?"

It's there I just got to dig deeper. I can feel it...

"Cecilia? That's a gorgeous name. I just love it. What do you think? Huh? Julius?"

I snap my head toward her and it rolls off my tongue like it's the most natural thing ever. No pressure. No force. Just as light as a word should be.

"Augusta."

"Oh damn, that's a good name. Very smart. And is close to Augustus. Why di-" she then stops and I raise my eyebrows as to 'why did you stop?'.

She then slaps her hands to her mouth and gasps like a middle-school girl who had her crush ask her out.

"No-" she then whispers and breaks into the widest grins. "Oh my God, Julius Caesar Alexander!"

"What?"

Her eyes widen more and I nervously glance at the doctor who is chatting away with the nurse about apparently something important.

"You are talking!" she shrieks and everyone (if not everything) in the room looks at us. The nurse might've thought we are fighting because she comes and takes Augusta away, giving me a distasteful look. Again. She is a really hateful nurse.

"Julius!" Samantha demands my attention again and realization dawns on me.

I lean away from Samantha's bed and touch my fingers to my mouth.

"Goddammit, Caesar, you are talking!" Samantha is repeating, her eyebrows raised in amusement and her eyes tearing up in joy. "Look at me!" she demands softly, captivating my attention.

"Come here, baby," she pats the space next to her bed as she adjusts herself. I stare at her, lips parted as tries to contain herself from apparently explosive excitement.

I sit next to her and the next thing I know is her lips pressed to mine in a fiery, short kiss. She then pulls back, hand on my cheek and eyes deep in my soul. "Say something, love. I missed your voice the way I kept missing my doctor appointments."

Which is a lot really. And she did manage to drive me insane about it.

"This nurse-" I start, glancing at her. "-keeps taking Augusta away. I don't like her."

Samantha gives me a giddy grin and my heart melts away. "I don't like her either."

I grin and she slaps me lightly. "You made it, you fucking idiot! I'm so proud of you! I'm so so proud! Oh my God, I am actually going to cry-" she says heartily, already wiping away at her tears. "And you're getting the greatest kiss in your life when we get back home." Her voice breaks saying this and I hug her to me.

And I whisper in her ears. "A great kiss? You missed me only that much? I need a heartbreaker, wifey."

Samantha pulls away choking on laughter and holds my hand with the key to her chest where I can feel her outrageous heartbeat. "Remember?!" she almost gasps with a grin. "You didn't change!"

I smile weakly at that and take one of her hands in mine, sliding the key in it.

Samantha is looking in my eyes with a curious frown before she looks down in her hand, some hair strands falling across her face.

"No-" she starts, shaking her head. "You have absolutely lost your mind-"

"You are the one who did if you thought I wouldn't-"

She looks up at me and wipes her wet cheeks with her shoulder. "How can I ever repay you, Caesar for all you're doing to me? I don't deser-" She asks me accusingly and I sigh, absolutely smitten by her everything.

"Repay me?" I raise my eyebrows as if it's a strange word. It is strange. So very strange for someone who had spent almost a year carrying the child of a depressed mute and helping him through all his hardships.

Yes. So very peculiar. Peculiar and provoking.

"Yes!" she says, her eyes reaching for me in ways that make it hard to breathe. "You have been so great to me. You just- how can I ever shower you with the love you keep giving me? How can I repay all that?"

I look down suddenly feeling that little bubble of happiness inside me diminish. What is she even talking about? Who, here, is the one who's so generous with themselves and their love? Why is she thinking like that? Is she unaware of what she's been through for me?

"Stop hurting me-" I tell her.

"I'm not hurting yo-"

"Exactly! You never did, while I never stopped-" I lock her eyes and feed her the words she is supposed to be hungry for. "So what do you want to repay me for? For drying my tears? For patting my back while I laid crippled in front of the toilet seat because that is all you could do when you were six months pregnant? Because, hell, Samantha, I know you'd trade your soul for time to reverse to help me on my feet. I know what you'd do. And God, you did so much. So much. You never knew if I'd make it, yet you stuck to my side. You swore an oath. You-you were crazy-crazy-"

"I am crazy in love with you, I know-" she completes my sentence and I shake my head, still slightly infuriated at how she doesn't know her worth.

"Yes, Samantha, you are. And I'm even more madly in love with your existence, okay? Every day I learn that it's possible to live with someone forever and fall in love more and more. So want to repay me?" I furrow my eyebrows. "Then yes, please do. Just repay me by keeping yourself and that baby we just had safe for me. Just stay in my life for as long as possible. Okay?" I feel my eyes tear up a little as I remember Augustus. "Stay in my life and that's it. And don't ever talk like that, Samantha. Ever. Don't you ever make it sound that you owe me shit. Cause you don't. And never will."

Samantha is taken aback by the intensity of all the emotion that I tried restraining in my voice that still sounds strange to my ears. Those words were begging for release since a long time ago and they were flowing out like I knew no silence. Like there is this barrier that got removed and there's no holding back anymore. It's all gushing out.

Samantha tears her eyes from mine, looks at the key in her hand and encloses her small fist around it. "I just love you," she murmurs and my heart lifts more, pressing on my damn trachea.

"And now, you are either fighting that nurse or I'll have to give her a piece of my mind about stealing our baby again-" I try to lighten the mood, but Samantha is still looking down.

Was I too harsh on her? My heart sinks.

"Hey, Mantha, look at me-" she looks up immediately and attempts a smile as silent tears, she thought she could hide, slip from her eyes. I sigh with a slight smile and push them away.

"Why are you crying?" I ask softly, lifting her chin as I try catching her eyes. She can't keep eye contact as she tries drying her eyes, looking at the ceiling.

"I don't know. Just-" she pulls her other hand from my grasp and waves her hands in front of her face. "The baby hormones. So many...surprises-"

I watch her and take a deep breath. "Samantha-" she looks at me hesitantly and I take back both her shaky hands in my strong, yet gentle grasp. "I don't want to see you cry ever again, okay? You deserve happiness so great. Great enough that if it were to be distributed to every person on this ridiculous planet, it'd burst their little, beating hearts. But since I know I really can't give you this happiness- I know I can only try. You talking about repayment and shit will belittle every effort I make because I will remember everything you've done for me and will feel that everything I'll ever present to you is ridiculous. And it is Samantha. It is so utterly ridiculous and worthless-" I then sigh heavily and shake my head. "You have no idea how much you mean to me. All you have in your hand is a stupid key that surely signifies nothing- nothing in comparison to what I keep in my heart for you. Do you understand me?"

She nods and sniffs as more tears fall. I tilt my head and smile. She smiles back and holds my eyes.

"Yes-" I mutter as I lower my lips to peck her pink, deeply bitten lips. "Now tell me. How did we get such a beautiful thing?"

"Our genes, Caesar-" she giggles, sniffing and I give her a playful look.

"Surely. She is the perfect product of our hard work-"

"My hard work-" she says possessively and I lift an eyebrow mischievously.

"Don't go selfish on me now. It's our hard work. You felt it-" I then lean in her ears. "-and I heard it. And I'm planning to hear it again and again, but I'll give you time to heal."

She pushes me away and I chuckle looking at the horrified look on her face. "I like mute Julius more."

I shake my head as she asks the nurse to bring Augusta over since the conversation is getting 'inappropriate'. Yes, yes, she totally used that word on me. On her husband.

And I let her because that's what I married her for.




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