Relapse / / h.s.

Chapter Seventeen.

I woke up to the sound of my phone, singing in that annoying marimba ringtone that I hated so much. It was rather odd because even though I had my eyes closed, I could still tell it was dark outside. At first I thought maybe it was an alarm I'd forgotten to turn off, but then I realized it was Sunday. I never worked on Sunday's. I didn't bother opening my eyes to feel around for the ignore button.

That didn't work. It was serene for only a few seconds before the phone started to ring again. I groaned, feeling around on the coffee table- over trash and empty beer cans- until I found my iPhone and lay it on the couch beside me.

"What?" I barked, irritated that this phone call couldn't have waited until morning. Whoever was calling me better have a damn good excuse for waking me up.

"Harry," the voice on the other end was panicked. I still wasn't awake enough to register who it was. "I'm sorry if I woke you. I need you to," she breathed in deeply, cutting herself off. "I need you to come pick me up."

"Mum?" My eyes shot open, and I sat upright on the couch.

"Yeah, baby," she breathed through the phone. She hadn't called me that in years. "My water just broke and- and Robyn's away on-on business. I need you to take me to the hospital."

  "Oh wow, okay," I could feel myself panic as I found my shoes in the dark. Why the hell wasn't Robyn there? Why did she call me? Actually, I knew why she was calling me. I was her son. Of course she was calling me. "I'm on my way, okay? Just- breathe or something. I'll be there soon."

The entire ride there, I was anxiously drumming my fingers into my leg. She was already waiting on the front porch when I got there, her forehead glistening with sweat as she held her stomach. I carried her bags to the truck and waited until she was safely buckled in to drive like an absolute maniac to the hospital.

"Thank you," she winced, holding we stomach. "I know I woke you."

"An emergency like this and you're worried about waking me?" I wondered as I ran a red light. There wasn't anyone on the street, anyway, not like it mattered.

She chuckled and then groaned, letting out a loud breath. "You always were grumpy after nap time," she defended herself. "You were the first person I thought to call."

I don't know why, but somehow that made me feel good. Knowing that my mother hadn't called anyone else actually made me feel important, I guess, like she relied on me- like she trusted me.

"All right?" I asked as she tried her best to suppress her moans and groans of pain. She was clutching onto the bar near the door so tight that I thought she would either break it, or break her hand.

"Yeah-yeah," she said between clenched teeth. "Labor kind of hurts, you know?"

  "No actually," if the situation wasn't so tense, I would have laughed, but to be honest, I was freaking out. Anne was obviously hurting and it was frightening watching her writhe and try to cover it up with patterned breaths.

   They rushed Anne into a room only moments after we got there. She held my hand so tight I couldn't feel it anymore and when she finally got settled into her bed, they asked me to leave so they could check on the baby.

   I stood outside Anne's room. Everything in the hall was quiet. The sun still wasn't up and the people who walked by all had coffee cups in their hands and heavy, red eyes. I couldn't help but notice how none of them looked the least bit excited to become fathers or aunts or grandparents- they all looked exhausted, like they were all tired of the wait. Hopefully this wouldn't take too long.