“I heard that on the television today,” the dad says. “Says you had to leave the game to head back to Nashville.”
“That was the plan,” I say as we make our way through the jetway back to the gate. “Forces are keeping me away.”
“That sucks,” he says. “But if you’re like when this guy came, my wife was in labor for twenty-four hours before he came out.”
That would be great. Except that if we’re counting how long Gabi was in pain last night, she might already be nearing the twenty-four-hour mark. I can’t imagine what she’s going through. “I’ll get there. There’s not another option.”
“Absolutely not,” he says. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.” I go to walk in hopes of finding a semi-private place where I can call and update Gabi, but I hear whispers from my two new friends.
“Maddox?” Gunner whispers with a nervous smile.
“What’s up buddy?”
He holds out a hat he’s wearing that has nothing to do with football. “Can I have your autograph?”
“Absolutely,” I say as he hands me the hat. I might be in a shit mood. I might’ve yelled at two people today who were trying to help and had to tell me bad news. And I might now live at LAX. But I’ll always take time for a young fan. Who knows? Maybe my act of kindness will be smiled upon by the airline gods. “Wait, I have something better.”
I kneel down as I start digging through my duffle bag. I always carry a marker for this exact reason, and I’m pretty sure I have the pair of gloves I was wearing today. In my crazed exit from the stadium, I threw them in here instead of leaving it for the equipment managers. “How about one of my gloves? Keep that hat nice and crisp.”
Gunner is wide eyed and speechless as I sign the glove for him. “Thanks Maddox!”
“Anytime.”
When I stand back up, the dad is holding out his hand. “Thanks for that. And good luck.”
Passengers of flight 383 to Memphis, please be advised, your new flight time will be departing at 8:30 local time.
“Was that good luck about fatherhood or about getting out of Los Angeles?”
The dad laughs. “At this point? I honestly don’t know.”
10:20 p.m. CT /8:20 p.m. PT
“You’re on the plane?”
“I’m on the plane. Again.”
Gabi’s eyes are hopeful. “And it’s taking off?”
I smile as I sit back into the seat. “As far as I know.”
I haven’t been told it’s not, and after the quickest boarding process in the history of airline travel, everything seems good. Though after the events of today, I hate to get my hopes up too much.
“Oooohhh…” she lets out, biting her lip as I contraction rolls through her.
“Breathe, gorgeous. One…two…”
I continue doing the exercises we practiced together so many times, only, I’d hoped to be doing them next to her, holding her hand or rubbing her back. Not sitting here watching her through my telephone.
I really need this plane to take off…
“I’m good,” she says as she sits back against the pillow.
“What’s the update?”
“I’m at five centimeters, according to Ainsley.”
