Chapter 5 - Ten Minutes on the Kitchen Clock
I kept my eyes on the microwave clock because it was the only thing in the kitchen that didn't feel like it was tilting.
10:42. That was when I typed it into my phone. Contraction at 10:42, hard enough I had to stop mid-step by the counter. Then I scrolled up and added the ones before it, trying to be exact. 10:36. 10:30. 10:23. Six, seven minutes apart at first, then closer. My thumb shook a little and I had to retype the 2.
I called Blake at 10:44. It rang four times and went to voicemail. I didn't leave one. I called again at 10:47. Same thing. I stared at the two missed calls on the screen, both outgoing, both unanswered, and told myself the mall parking lot was loud.
He'd said ten minutes. I'll be back fast. I repeated it the way he'd said it, hurried, already halfway out the blue front door. My hospital duffel was still where I'd left it that morning, gray and navy, zipped and packed by the entryway wall. His keys were still on the counter next to where my phone had been. He'd taken his own car. He just hadn't come back.
Another contraction started building low in my back. I braced both hands on the counter and breathed through my nose, counting. One, two, three, four. The edge of the laminate dug into my palms. When it eased, I added 10:53 to the note and sat down on the bottom step by the entryway because standing was getting harder to talk myself through.
Headlights swept across the front windows. I stood up too fast and had to catch the doorframe. It wasn't Blake's car. It was a silver SUV I recognized, and a second later my phone lit up in my hand.
She was already out of the car before I got the door open all the way. My friend Jenna from work, the one who'd called and said, Claire? You're not doing this alone. She took one look at me in my light blue sweater, hair stuck damp to my neck, and her face changed.
"Hey," she said quietly. "How long has he been gone?"
I glanced back at the microwave, like it could answer for me. "Almost forty minutes."
Her eyes went to the duffel by the door. She didn't ask why it was still here. She just saw it and understood. "Have your contractions sped up?"
"Five minutes now, I think," I said. "Maybe less."
She stepped inside and set her bag down. Her hands were steady when she touched my arm. "Can I time one with you? Just tell me when it starts."
I nodded. We didn't wait long. The tightening came back, lower this time, and I grabbed the entryway table. She watched the seconds on her phone and watched my breathing, not my face. When it passed, she said, "That was almost a minute. Claire, we need to go now."
"I know," I said. Then I said, "He promised ten minutes. The mall is right off the highway. He probably got stuck waiting for his mom. She had her handbag and her list and —"
Jenna didn't interrupt me. She let me run out of air.
"He wouldn't just leave me," I said, quieter. "Not for this."
"I believe he meant to come back," she said. She looked toward the empty driveway, then back at me. "But you're in labor and he's not here. That's what's happening right now."
My phone screen was still showing my little log. 10:53. Two calls, no answer. I hated how it looked. Like evidence of something I didn't want to name yet.
Another pain rolled in before I could answer her. I leaned forward over the duffel, breathing hard, and she moved with me, one hand firm between my shoulder blades. I could smell her car air freshener on her jacket, clean and sharp.
"Okay," I whispered when I could talk again. "Okay."
"Okay, hospital?" she asked.
I looked at the duffel on the floor. At Blake's keys on the kitchen counter where he'd left them. At the open blue door and the empty spot where his car should have been. I thought about waiting five more minutes and what that would cost me.
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"Yeah," I said. "Help me get this to your car. We're going without him."
She picked up the duffel in one motion and held the door with her hip. I grabbed my phone and followed her out to the driveway, one hand on the wall until the daylight hit my face.
