Part 22 - Final

(Author's Note: This is the final episode of Night Watch. After I received word that a short version of this story won an award, I realized that the blog had served its purpose. After all, I enjoy the serialized form because it helps me write a good first draft. Although this blog is now 28,000 words, it helped me write a 2000-word story, Angela, that was good enough to win the Emerging Writer Award, being given this year for the first time by Humanities Washington. I may still do something with the long version as well. I was able to end Night Watch by describing an event that had been foreshadowed all along: the arrival of David's parents. It struck me that this could allow David to finally find peace and acceptance with the labor and birth of their second child. I hope you enjoy it.)



David's parents arrived at two in the afternoon. He felt a bit of stress melt away unexpectedly the moment he saw them at his front door. He was aware, suddenly, that he had been waiting for them.

Leonard Wilson Smith, David's father, attracted attention when he entered a room. He was tall, with a prominent forehead and large eyes like headlamps that cast their beam on everything before him. He visited his barber every other week to have his hair trimmed close to his temples, just as he had kept it during his thirty-three years of service in the Army. David had used the phrase "quiet authority" to describe his father to Angela. He once showed Angela a photo of his father as a lieutenant, standing next to an artillery piece in Vietnam: the hair had been blonde then, but the probing eyes and natural authority were just as evident then as now, almost forty years later.

Leonard carried into the house the single canvas bag that he took with him on every trip: no matter how far or how long, he took one bag. David's mother, Vivian, followed him in, toting a trim suitcase on wheels. They both traveled light, and always brought their bags in so they could immediately distribute gifts or show pictures from their travels. They liked to be mobile and ready: ready to arrive and ready to leave.

As the Tortoriches came forward to greet them, hugs and handshakes were exchanged all around. Leonard preferred handshaking to hugging, but since this was an important family occasion--the birth of a grandchild--Buddy and Natalie did not hold back their natural inclination to embrace. David was amused to see his father give in to a squish of breasts against his chest from Natalie and a brotherly grip on the shoulder from Buddy. Vivian graciously imparted a kiss and a polite hug to each of them.

Angela then paraded into the room with a pale face and weak smile. Her belly button preceded her by several feet, it seemed to David. Leonard bent gingerly over Angela's rounded form, as if he thought he would break something if he touched her, and brushed his lips against her cheek. Vivian, having more experience at hugging pregnant women, approached from Angela's side and said, "You look lovely," before drawing her into a warm squeeze.

"I don't feel lovely," Angela said.

Olivia came up behind Angela; they had been in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and fresh herbs for a sauce. Angela said, "Len and Vivian, do you remember my cousin, Olivia?"

Olivia extended her hand. "We met at the wedding."

Leonard shook her hand; Vivian kissed her cheek. "I met so many people that day. Let's see, are you a daughter of Buddy's brother?"

"Good memory," said Natalie.

"Pure luck," said Vivian, although David knew she prided herself on being able to remember almost everyone she met. Her holiday greeting card list was extensive, and meticulously maintained.

Vivian turned her attention back to Angela. "My dear, you are simply glowing. I'm so happy for you," she said.

"Would you like to freshen up from your trip?" said Angela.

"I would like nothing better than to sit down and hear how the labor has been going," said Vivian, leading the way to the sofa. David was not surprised. His parents differed from almost everyone else he knew in this regard: upon arriving at someone's house after traveling they were ready to socialize immediately. No going to the bathroom or asking for a glass of water.

They all followed Vivian to the living room. She wore khaki golfing shorts and a fresh yellow shirt; her legs and arms were pleasantly tanned and she held her shoulder-length gray-and-white hair behind her head with a clasp. She sat with her knees together and her back straight, ready to converse. Leonard looked around, surprised. "I don't see the unguided missile," he said.

"Tony's napping," said David. "Buddy wore him out at the playground."

"That's my job around here," said Buddy.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Vivian asked Angela.

"Not really. The contractions were very regular for most of the night. Then they just stopped."

"You must be exhausted," said Vivian.

"I had a good nap this morning, so I'm somewhat rested. I feel like I'm going to be pregnant for the rest of my life."

Vivian chuckled. "Oh, listen, this baby will be graduating from high school before you know it."

"Is there anything we can do?" asked Leonard.

"Not really, Dad. Natalie went grocery shopping. Olivia's fixing dinner."

"I hope you don't mind meatballs," said Olivia.

Leonard clutched his chest. "I was hoping that before I died I would have those Tortorich meatballs one more time."

Natalie beamed. "It's the same recipe. Olivia does them better than I do."

Olivia frowned. "Don't believe a word of it. She'll be in the kitchen looking over my shoulder. You watch."

"I'm sure I will savor every bite," said Leonard.

"Tell me about the doula," Vivian said to Angela. "How's that working?"

"Victoria's wonderful. She knows exactly where it hurts after a contraction, and she massages the muscles. I'd be worried if we didn't have her."

"Is she here now?" asked Vivian.

"She went home. David's going to call her when the contractions start up again."

"So, you're in charge of communications?" said Leonard to David.

"Yep, that's my job."

Then Leonard patted David's knee and asked, "Are you excited, Son?"

David was surprised by the word. Excited? It was a simple question. But it put David on the defensive. "Um. I think I'm too nervous to be excited." He looked at Angela. "I just want the baby to come and I want Angela to be all right."

Vivian seemed concerned. "But you must be excited, David. When that child arrives in this world it has to feel that everyone is thrilled for it to be here."

"I'm sure I will be, when the time comes," said David, trying to sound convincing.

"I think David misses the security of a hospital," said Angela. "This home labor part is stressful."

"I'm okay with it," David said, but he couldn't hide the edge in his voice. He was still smarting over his father's question, he felt as if he had been unmasked: his lack of excitement revealed.

Vivian looked at Natalie. "I don't know about you, but when I was having babies you were a radical if you breastfed your child."

"I remember that," said Natalie. "Now these young Moms will whip out a breast almost anywhere and start feeding."

Angela laughed. "That's how it is at our coffee shop. We call it the nursing circle. Three or four Moms all sitting around nursing babies. And they aren't always modest. I've noticed that men don't linger in the coffee shop during that time."

"Well, of course," said Vivian. "A breast isn't nearly as sexy when there's a baby attached to it."

At that the three women laughed so hard that Angela had another contraction. She gripped the arm of the sofa while her face changed instantly from a laugh to a wince. "Oh my," she said, exhaling and then breathing hard. She looked at Vivian. "Thank you."

Vivian looked proudly at David and Leonard. "Now I have a job: the labor stimulator."

"You're doing well at it, dear," said Leonard.

David felt immediate relief over Angela's latest contraction. His mood lately had been gyrating wildly with the movements of Angela's muscles. He was living the labor, minute by minute, reacting to it, but unable to do anything about it. He knew why he was not excited: he was not in control. It was like riding in a car, with Angela at the wheel, driving, but not really driving, more like monitoring. She could feel the movements of the baby and knew better than anyone what was going on. But she could not make it go faster.

"How about you, David?" Vivian was asking.

"What about me?" David replied, shaking off his thoughts.

"Maybe you would like to rest for a while."

Leonard glanced at him. "That's a good idea. Go get some rest. I promise no babies will be born without you."

David started to object. How could he possibly sleep when the contractions were starting up again? But then the tiredness hit him, along with the realization that his parents were here, including his very capable father who always knew what to do in every situation. It was his voice that David could not resist. That quiet authority. Go get some rest.

David started to give in. "Well I suppose I could stretch out on the guest room sofa."

"Now you're being wise," said Leonard.

"You'll wake me up if something happens, right?"

"Of course," said Vivian.

David blew Angela a kiss and left the room. The conversation continued behind him as he passed through the kitchen. Why wouldn't it? Did he think life would stop for them without him in the room? He entered the guest room, at the back of the house, and closed the door; the voices became even more remote, muffled. He heard Buddy's voice, followed by a laugh from David's father. It was good for them all to visit, they didn't do it often. Now they would visit without his supervision.

It was cool in the room, since the windows were mostly shaded by the broad, leafy elm tree in the yard. He emptied his pockets onto the floor: his wallet and keys and loose change. He even switched off his cell phone. He drew the woven spread over him as he stretched out, fully horizontal, not just pausing, not waiting to jump up and go at a moment's notice. But coming to a full stop. My parents are here, he thought. Angela's parents are here. Between them they can take care of anything. Olivia is here. They're all here, very capable, and they all care about Angela and the baby. I'm not the only one who cares. Other people care. They care just as much as I do, he realized. He knew what job his father would do: he would take Angela for a walk. Yes. His father would be happy to walk his pregnant daughter-in-law around the block.

He closed his eyes. It was so peaceful. Someone else was in charge. They would wake him when they needed to. Someone else could do the worrying, if there was any worrying to be done. Someone would call the doula. Angela would tell the number to Vivian. David didn't have anything to do. They could even dial a phone number without his help.

He felt sleep coming on fast. His body slowed down. His mind quieted. Olivia knew her way around their kitchen. She didn't need his help finding things. It was magic; she could find whatever she needed. Without his help. His eyes were closed now. He thought of Tony. Tony would have two grandfathers and two grandmothers to entertain him. For a few hours, he would do just fine without David.

He was completely off duty. His job was to sleep.

And he did.

Benefits of Fiction Blogging

Yesterday I received a telephone call announcing that I have won the Humanities Washington Emerging Writer Award. My short story, "Angela" was selected from among 60 entries. First prize is $500, plus I will read "Angela" at the annual gala fundraiser on Oct 27. Other speakers will include Mary Guterson (author of We Are All Fine Here), Karen Fisher (author of A Sudden Country) and local writing luminary Dr. Charles Johnson, who was the final judge in the contest. Humanities Washington is a public foundation that provides cultural programs to the state of Washington. (www.humanities.org/awards/ewa.php)

Here's a bit more backstory... The Emerging Writer Award contestants were given a theme to work with. It was called "Night Watch." Sound familiar? As soon as I heard about it I created this blog of the same name because the words brought back memories of a summer evening in Virginia in 1998 when my wife gave birth to our second child. She did most of the labor at home, assisted by a doula, while I made lots of herbal tea and tried not to think of all the things that can go wrong in childbirthing. We went for walks in the humid night air to keep the labor progressing. It was an experience worth writing about even without the writing contest. I figured I would serialize the story first and then massage it into a short story. However, I very quickly ran so far past the 2000-word limit that I almost gave up on the idea of submitting it as a contest entry. But not quite.

I wrote "Angela" by taking the first ten episodes of Night Watch and condensing them into a frightfully compact space. That was after first receiving extremely valuable and thorough critiques from my writing group, the Speculative Fiction Writer's Cooperative at Eagle Harbor Bookstore. (You guys did a great job!) Charles Johnson had glowing things to say about "Angela," which is nice because he is a 1998 MacArthur Fellow (otherwise known as the "genius" grant) and received the National Book Award for his novel Middle Passage in 1990.

It turns out that some of my family members are not impressed by the significance of this victory. After I announced the award, my daughter asked, "Did they pull your name out of a hat?"

But the real point I want to make here is that I truly believe serializing a story leads to better characters. Why? My hunch is that, with serialization, you get to know your characters gradually, in a natural manner, just as you would get to know a new person that you've met. And as you take your time getting to know them, they come alive slowly, but convincingly, on the page.

I have been giving talks on this subject and I'm thinking of starting a workshop. If you are interested in learning more, please post a comment to this blog.

Thanks for reading.

Bill