Page 139 of Ruin The Friendship
“Yep.” Grace nods, looking between me and her phone.
“Stop it. I’m not in labor.” Except, there is a small part of me that thinks I may be wrong. This feels different than before, and it’s still going.
The two lock eyes again, and when the contraction passes, I sit up a little straighter and take a sip of my pop to appear nonchalant. “See, it’s done.”
I should try not to be any more stubborn about this than I already have been, because if I really am in labor, I have no idea how fast this will go.
My mind whirs as time ticks down on the intermission clock. I don’t have my hospital bag or car seat, Fletcher's in the middle of a playoff game, and Dottie isn’t coming up for another week.
A short time later, another contraction hits. This one is stronger, the pain sharper. Grace starts a timer, and Zoey rubs my back as I breathe through it.
When the contraction ends, Grace stops the timer. “Seven minutes apart this time. When did they say to go to the hospital?”
I wave her off. “That was my first consistent one. I’m not going into the hospital yet. Not until they’re consistently five minutes apart for an hour.”
“I love you, but I am not a labor and delivery nurse. Pregnant women scare me. I don’t want to deliver your baby in this suite, nor do I want to have to pull over on the side of the road,” Zoey says forcefully, leaving no room forquestions. “If they get to five minutes apart for over thirty minutes, we’re going in.”
I clench my jaw. “Fine.”
I hope this isn’t real labor.
The second period starts, and when I continuously have contractions every six and a half minutes, my nervousness grows.
I catch Fletcher watching me from the bench, and I offer him a half-hearted wave. He mouths something to me, but I can’t catch it. I shake my head and smile, hoping to ease the worry I can see on his face.
Thankfully, he turns his focus back onto the game.
“Are you sure I can’t take you home?” Grace asks me after the next contraction. This one was a doozy.
“Not yet. Let me try something else first.” A restless feeling settles throughout my body, so I stand from the seat, stepping into the main part of the suite.
I lean against one of the high-top tables so I can still see the game and rock my hips back and forth. But I can feel her pressing down on my pelvis. This is happening, whether I like it or not. I thought I had more time.
Apparently not.
I rock while trying to focus on the game. Fletcher is playing a good game today. The stakes are high, and I can’t stand the thought that I’m going to be a distraction to him, possibly pulling him away from the game. He’d scold me if he heard me say that, telling me there is nowhere he’d rather be, but I still feel bad.
I have to call Dottie. It’s just going to be Fletcher with me in the delivery room, but Dottie will be there to help me when I get home, and I know she’s going to want to be in the area to be here for us when she’s born.
A fleeting thought crosses my mind as Ithink of my mother. I wish things could be different between us, but they can’t. She’s proven to me that she won’t respect my family or me, and I have to make peace with that.
“Zoey, can you grab my phone?” I ask.
She does, and I unlock it and call Dottie.
It rings twice before she answers. “Hi, sweetie. Are you watching the game?”
“Yep,” I say through gritted teeth as another contraction starts.
Zoey motions to Grace, who taps her phone screen, marking the time. I already know there’s been less time between the last contraction and this one.
“What’s happening? Are you okay?” Dottie asks, concern fluttering in her voice.
“I think I’m in labor,” I whimper through the waves of pain.
“Oh my. Are you at home?”
“Arena.” My teeth clench over the words.
