She slumps to the floor, unable to stand through the pain, so I sit beside her and rub circles on her back. When it’s over, I help her get to my car.
“My bag,” she whimpers as I click her seatbelt into place. “Can you grab it? It’s packed and ready to go by the coat closet.
I go to head back into her house, but then I see dark hair out of the corner of my eye. Allie is running down her steps.
“What the hell is happening?” she yells.
“Emory’s in labor,” I explain. “Luke is out of town. I’m taking her to the hospital.”
“I’ll take her,” Allie calls out as I rush up the stairs to Emory’s house. I quickly grab the bag and I’m back at my car just in time to see Allie attempting to transfer Emory to hers.
“Allie, stop,”
“She’s my friend. I’m taking her to the hospital.”
Emory’s clutching her belly, clearly in the middle of another contraction. They’re coming closer together.
“I’m taking her,” I shout.
“Oh, fuck of?—”
“Get in the car,” Emory growls, her pain having subsided for the moment. “Both of you.”
Allie finally relents, sliding into my back seat as I yank open the door to the driver’s side.
It’s only a ten-minute drive to the hospital, and Allie talks Em through another contraction on the way. When we arrive, I pull up to the front, leaving my car there to help Allie walk Em up to the entrance. It’s probably going to get towed, but I don’t give a shit. Who has time to find parking at a time like this?
We’re greeted by a nurse who knows Emory, and before I know it, we’re set up in a delivery room on the maternity floor, and Emory is hooked up to an IV and a monitor measuring the baby’s heart rate. She starts to have another contraction, and Allie lets her squeeze her hand.
“In Lamaze,” Emory whimpers. “Sometimes it helps when the partner is behind?—”
Allie doesn’t waste another second, climbing up onto the bed behind Emory, allowing her to fall back onto her chest as she holds both her hands. “Can’t you give her something for the pain?” Allie shouts at anyone willing to listen.
The nurse, Kristi, according to her name tag, nods her head. “We can, but that’s completely up to Emory.”
Emory mutters something about a birth plan, and I think for a second she’s going to pass out, but instead, she leans her head over the side of the bed and pukes.
The color immediately drains from Allie’s face, her eyes wide, sweat beading on her forehead. I know that look. Complete panic.
“She needs help,” I yell.
“Oh, it’s okay,” Kristi says as she checks the monitors. “Her vitals are fine. It’s not uncommon to vomit during childbirth.” I know that. Cassie threw up during labor too, but that’s not what I’m concerned about.
“No, I mean,” I point to Allie, who is nearly passed out now.
“Oh my goodness,” Kristi yelps. “Let’s get you out of there.”
I help her move Allie out from behind Emory. “No, I’m not leaving her,” she chokes.
“Allie,” I touch her cheek. “I’ve got her. I promise.”
She looks hesitant, but when another nurse comes in, Allie lets her guide her out of the room. As I watch her leave, every part of me wants to go with her to make sure she’s okay, but I can’t leave Emory to have her baby alone.
I sit beside Em, and she takes my hand, squeezing hard just as another contraction hits. This one seems to last longer than the others, and when it’s finally over, her face is damp and crimson. I sit with her for the next hour, just breathing with her while she crushes the shit out of my hand.
When the door finally opens, I’m praying it’s Luke. Not for my sake, but for Em. She’s starting to panic again. But an older woman in scrubs walks in, and my heart plummets.
She eyes me up and down, with a look of confusion painted on her face.
