“Push! Push!” Each time louder and louder, more intense than the last. “Puuuush!!!!” My heart was pounding by the minute.
I looked over at Marco, and before he could yell out another push, without thinking I turned away as if ignoring it would prolong the moment. What felt like hours was maybe only 2 seconds before I felt someone grab my hand as if they were holding on to their life.
“Its ok Sasha its almost over” I said trying to sound calm which only made my words sound shaky and stuttered.
The two barely lit candles were enough to show her face, tears, sweat, joy, and worry had all invested into her face.
“Bo, I need you to open the drawer, and grab a towel to put the baby in!” Marco said.
I nodded my head, and reached over to the the drawer and pulled it open. When I grabbed onto the handle, I could finally see how hard my hand was shaking. I pulled out the only towel that was in there. It was covered in blood. I hesitated and looked in the drawer for another towel.
“Bo, Please!!” Marco shouted, which caused every thought I had to vanish in the moment as I handed him the towel.
I rushed back over to Sasha and grabbed her hand and she looked at me.
Before I could say anything, Marco commanded out a final and intense “Puuuush!!”, that followed with crying as if you already felt alone.
“It's a boy,” Marco said with a smile on his face.
He wrapped you in the bloodied towel and handed you to me. Before I could look at you, I handed you to your mother. She did all the work so I figured it was only fair she got to see you first.
Marco slapped me on the back and with excitement said "Congratulations my friend, i’ll be back with the certificate” and walked into the other room. Like all houses in our area there were no doors and most barely even had a roof.
Marco was a big grizzled man so a slap from him popped my spine, however he was my best friend and the only person I could trust. He was the only person I knew that could take on the task of delivering you.
Your mother looked up at me with tears in her eyes “Hes perfect Bo.”
with the bloodied towel wrapped around you and only candles to light the room I couldn't see you, but I didn't need to see you. You were my son.
Marco returned with a rolled up dirty piece of notebook paper and a pen, handed it to me, and said “sign his name”.
I went with the name that me and your mom agreed upon years ago when we first got together. I started writing your first name but the pen wouldn't let out any ink, the first three letters were carved into the paper from how hard I was pushing the pen down. I shook the pen and wrote it again.
I handed it to Marco, he looked at it but due to the poor lighting and his already horrible eyesight, had to put the paper almost right up to his face and read “ Arthur Reginald Duncan, Born June 23rd, 2088.”
“Do you want to hold him?” your mother asked me, before I even could open my mouth she was already handing you to me.
I saw your eyes, they were emerald green like the city in the story my mother used to read to me when I was younger. She found the book in the middle of the street after a patrol swept through the neighborhood. The little girl who was holding it was picked up by her parents who carried her into their home so they wouldn't be seen by the soldiers looking for something to pique their interest.
When I looked into your eyes, I didn't feel joy, I didn't feel excitement, nor did I feel sadness, or anger.
I felt guilty.
How could I bring life into this world? Already you knew what blood felt like wrapped in that towel. Your lungs are already filled with gunpowder and smoke before you're even five minutes old. The food we will feed you with will be covered in dirt, and you will have to learn to tolerate it. You weren't born under a blue sky like my mother and father, but one of orange and thick ash, as your mother and I.
I felt guilty that already, you were a victim of war.