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”His heart pounded in his chest almost to the point that it hurt. He pushed up and stood there tense not knowing what was coming. “Keep your eyeballs looking straight ahead don’t turn around or I’ll blast your guts out with this,” she jabbed him in the ribs with the barrel of a gun. “Turn to your right and go down under the bridge.”“I got some money you can have it,” his voice cracked as he spoke.“Shut the fuck up Mr. Lucky move your skinny white ass now,” she poked him again. “Go on now right up under the bridge.” His heart felt like it was in his throat. There was something in her voice, it was anger, or perhaps something else, something darker. He was afraid for his life now.“Now you might think you can just run away but I’ll fucking blow your head off if you try,” again she hit him in the ribs hard with the barrel of the gun. “You do believe me don’t you Mr. Lucky?” He tread down the slick bank he had no doubt she would kill him if he tried to run. The sound of the water rushing. **** Being the genius I was, I had had her hospital bag packed for a month. It was in the back of her car, her Nissan. We’d be taking it to the hospital. And I was on the stick for the whole ball of wax: I made sure the car always had enough gas in the tank. The seat on the passenger side was adjusted for easy ingress and egress.Hospital and insurance info was in a manila folder under the driver’s seat. I was not leaving anything to chance. Was I nervous? Was I paranoid? Hell yes, I was and so fucking what!And then it was 10:30 p.m. on the 13th of October 1997. We’d just gone to bed.“Sam, something’s wrong. Oh fucking no!” she screamed. “It’s time!”We were on the road in no more than three minutes and at Finnley Memorial in thirteen more.I did the pacing. I did the dribbling at the corners of my mouth, and three and half hours later a smiling nurse, came through the employees only door and announced, “Twin girls, the doctor will be out in just a moment,” she said.I collapsed on the.
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