Run (#Wattys2016)

29

4 months, 17 days, 4 hours, 0 minutes, 18 seconds.

Dad was mom’s birth coach again. You’d think after three kids he’d be alright. But he still got that look of panic I imagine he’d had the day I was born. The hospital staff surrounded the bed, already delivering the baby. I stood patiently at the edge of the room. Recording my new sibling’s birth per Mom’s request. The head was already visible. Ally if it’s a girl. Elijah if it’s a boy.

I kept the camera trained on the baby as it crept further and further out. My eyes looked up every so often. Checking up on Dad. Making sure he wasn’t going to faint. It was truly hilarious how he could go into battle without a fear in the world, but when it came to being a birth coach he freaked. 

Finally the baby made it’s first appearance into the world, emitting loud cries. Letting the staff know that it was alive.

“It’s a girl,” the doctor breathed, handing her to Mom. 

“Ally,” I whispered, keeping the camera trained on her. A movement caught out of the corner of my eye as the doctor handed Ally to Mom. Dad was walking out of the room. My eyes followed his movements out of the door. Then turned back to the beautiful sister wrapped in my mother’s arms. 

A second later however, I was handing the camera to one of the nurses and following Dad out into the hall. I burst out of the doors, expecting to see my dad pacing. But he wasn’t there. Just Eliza and Trisha. 

“Where’d Dad go?” I asked the girls, a smile spreading on my face. 

“He went to the bathroom,” Eliza replied, pointing down the hall. I gave a small wave of appreciation and jogging in the direction of her pointing finger. Dad is going to be so excited! Couldn’t he have waited? Ah, well. Does it really matter? I reached the men’s bathroom, running straight in. Joy swelled inside me. I have a new baby sister!

There was a comical shout of surprise from the lone man at the urinals. I ignored him, looking at the feet in the stalls. Dad’s work boots weren’t in any of them. I ran out faster than I’d run in, continuing down the hall. Where’d he go? He hadn’t walked past me in the hall. He wasn’t in the bathroom. The only possible route was this way. 

I still hadn’t found Dad when I reached the nurse’s station near the entrance. My legs slowed to a stop. The joy boiling down to a confused spiral. I did a whole three-sixty, making sure I hadn’t missed him. I saw it then. Just a blur of blue. But I stopped. There was a trash can near the entrance with blue fabric sticking out of the opening. I ran to it, pulling on the blue fabric. It came out of the can. A scrub shirt. Just like the one I was wearing. The one Dad and I had been required to wear. 

I took the lid off of the trash can. The sight inside confirmed my suspicions. A whole scrub outfit was in it. I put the lid back on and turned. Some of the people in the hall were giving me funny looks. What did I care? I ran back over to the nurses station. 

“Excuse me?” I asked cautiously. The nurse looked up from her computer. 

“Do you happen to get security feed on that computer?” I asked, more confidently. She nodded, starting to eye me wearily. 

“Can I take a look at the feed from the last five minutes for this entrance?”

“And why would you want to do that?” she asked, a small smile playing on her face. 

“My sisters told me that my dad came down this way. I can’t find him. You see, my mom just had my new little sister. He hasn’t even held her yet. I just wanna make sure he didn’t leave.” Her smile wavered slightly. I could see the conflict raging in her eyes. She wasn’t supposed to do this. But I’d given her the guilt trip. On the bright side, all that I’d just said was true. So it was her fault for letting it make her feel guilty.