OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

seventy-one.

        "BETTER?" DAVE ASKED, plopping himself down besides Reagan's hospital bed after another round of mindless pacing. He handed her a plastic cup filled with ice chips, the only thing she was permitted to consume. She happily accepted them, twining her fingers around the cold cup.

"Yes," Reagan said. "It's weird though, not being able to feel my legs."

"But in comparison to the pain?"

"A lot better, then." She quietly wedged the small pieces of ice into her mouth, allowing them to cool on her tongue as she laid anxiously flat. Her epidural had been administered only forty-five minutes prior at the hands of a deft anesthesiologist, who had made the injection less agonizing than Reagan had imagined. Dave had stood by watching with a gaunt look on his face, his eyes trained on the needle that had been inserted swiftly into Reagan's lower back. 

"Is your mom on your way?" Reagan asked, glancing up from her ice chips.

"She was leaving for the airport the last time we spoke. She promised to get the soonest flight out." 

"Good," she nodded. "And Kate?"

"Should be here any minute. It sounded like she was going to call up your mom and dad."

"That's fine. They ought to know. I'm just not sure if I'm ready for it to come from me."

Dave chuckled under his breath. He reached out to smooth back Reagan's hairline, which had become dampened with sweat. Her tired eyes closed at his touch.

"Are you thinking that I'm a bad daughter for not telling them myself?"

"No," Dave answered simply.

"Then I'm at least a chicken shit for relying on Kate to do it."

"That makes two chicken shits present in this room, then."

Reagan felt the corners of her lips pull downward. "Are you upset?"

"Not upset," Dave said. He gave his shoulders a half-hearted shrug. "Just . . . scared."

She looked back down into her cup of ice chips that were slowly melting around the edges. If it weren't for the fact that it was already too late to turn back, she wondered if she would have ever put him in this situation in the first place. The reality of their youth was hitting her hard. She didn't know what she expected out of Dave -- perhaps nothing at all. It's not as if she could do anything herself.

"Hey," he said gently. He touched his fingers to her chin, tilting it slightly upwards. "It's going to be alright, okay? She's gonna' be fine."

"I'm sorry," Reagan apologized in a rough whisper. "I know this is a lot. It's a lot for us."

"It's not too much, if that's what you're getting at."

Reagan shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. "It's hard to believe that this is happening. I mean, we're having a baby. Tonight. I swear it feels like it was just the other day that we first met. And now we're here and you're going to be a dad . . ."

Dave stiffened in the chair he sat in, sitting up straighter. "Please don't tell me that you're having regrets about this right now."

"No!" Reagan cried, opening her eyes and widening them. "That's not it at all. I . . . I love you. I love her." She flickered her gaze towards her stomach and then back to Dave, feeling her heart beat faster. "I'm allowed to be shocked though, aren't I? This is pretty life changing."

"You're being a martyr," Dave accused.

"No I'm not," Reagan shot back. "How am I being a martyr?"