“No, not yet. Let’s get to the hospital. If this is the real thing, I promise I won’t let him miss it. But if it’s not––”
“He won’t be happy about this.”
“I know.”
But I hope—more than anything—that it’s not time. I don’t want to steal the grandest moment of his career.
The sliding doors of the hospital whisper open, and Alexander guides me in, Malie by my side. The fluorescent lights hum overhead as we reach the desk. “I called Dr. Meera Shah to let her know I was coming in. Magnolia Sebring. I think I may be in labor.”
The woman behind the desk nods, already rising to her feet. “Let’s get you into a room and checked out.”
She leads us down a hallway, the soft squeak of her sneakers the only sound until we reach a small exam room. I change and Malie helps me onto the bed.
A few minutes later, a staff member comes in. “Let’s have a check and see what’s going on,” she says, putting on an exam glove.
She does the exam and I close my eyes, trying to breathe through the discomfort.
When she’s done, she peels off her gloves with a quiet snap and offers a reassuring smile. “You’re four centimeters dilated. Officially in early labor. Time to get you admitted to a birthing suite and call Dr. Shah.”
Four centimeters. I swallow hard, a surge of adrenaline mixed with relief pulsing through me. This is real.
Malie squeezes my hand, and I nod, not trusting my voice.
“My grandchild is on his way.”
Another contraction begins and I begin deep-breathing through it. “He sure is.”
They wheel me through another set of doors into a private birthing suite. The TV already has the game on as though it was waiting for me.
Halftime.
Alex is probably in the locker room right now, hydrating, making adjustments, talking strategy.
My heart lurches.
He doesn’t know what’s happening.
Malie tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Is there anything I can get for you?”
“I need someone to go by the house and pick up my bag. Do you think Elias would mind doing that for me?”
Alexander laughs. “Elias doesn’t mind doing anything for his teine.”
“I should text Violet.”
Malie nods. “You’d better or she’ll never forgive you.”
The contractions ramp up as we watch the game––sharp, insistent–– and I squeeze Malie’s hand.
Malie nods at Alexander. She says nothing, but I see the silent communication between them. They’re respecting my decision to not pull Alex out of the game, but both are concerned about him not being here.
“The game will be over soon,” I say. My voice is steady, but my skin prickles with worry.
Alexander glances at the screen and then at me. “Second half is starting. It’ll be over soon.”
From the birthing bed, as I clutch the sheets, I watch my husband dominate the pitch. He is such a powerhouse.
Contractions come and go, often and fiercely, growing stronger. I reach for the remote to turn the volume up, and the announcers’ voices bleed through the pain. “The Wall dominates the game, and it’s easy to see why his team was desperate to have him back.”
