#guy bauman

and then, for real, there were four. introducing ivan bauman - august and guy's (hopefully) final child.

and then there were (almost) four

"This would happen as soon as the power goes out," August muttered to herself. She'd just woken up from her mid-day nap when the contractions started. For a while, she sat on the bed, counting to ten as she breathed slowly. She was hoping to wait until Guy got home from work to go to the hospital - the law firm didn't take kindly to his occasional random half days. He'd just made partner, though, and she needed him now. "What the fuck do you mean you were waiting?!" he shouted when she called to tell him the baby was coming. "August, oh my god!" At the hospital, the receptionist made quick work of checking her into her private birthing suite. The perks of a rich husband who isn't willing to take any chances. It was strange - she could feel the dull press of the scalpel, but the pain didn't register. August stared at the ceiling, with the vague sense of hands rooting around inside of her. "August?" she heard Guy whisper, but he sounded as if he was underwater. In her head, she was rearranging her face - surely, she thought, he would pay for the mommy makeover that his friends' wives all got after each new baby. New body, new nose... "Please, August, would you look at me?" she blinked slowly. Maybe she could get the doctor to write her a prescription for whatever they'd given her. She blinked again, and the doctor was placing a wet creature into her arms. She looked up at Guy, tears pooling in his eyes. "Finley," she said to him, "like you wanted."

first | next | current Guy wasn't ready when August got pregnant the first time. They'd just eloped - he wanted marital bliss. But driving August to the hospital, waiting in the lobby for the news she'd lost the babies, broke something inside of him. His whole life, he'd been waiting for someone like her. When he came home to find her - a stranger - grilling in his yard as though she owned the place, he thought he was hallucinating. He bought the ring that day. They eloped not too long after. She'd had a hard life, he knew, but he never pressed her for the details. A few times, she'd expressed to him how much she missed the thrill of breaking into a house in the hills, swiping the flatscreen, and taking off running. It kept him awake at night, knowing how she used to scrape by like that. And so, flying down the freeway with her bleeding in the passenger seat, he made a vow. If August wanted a baby, he'd give her one. If August wanted the moon, he'd find a way.