Posted in Short Story Sunday, Writing

Short Story Sunday #40

I’M HERE

            I’m waiting. I’m waiting to be allowed into the room. I’m waiting for the moment that I can finally see him. I’m waiting for someone to give me the okay, for someone to tell me that everything is just fine.

I’m here. He doesn’t know it, but I’m here.

I’ve been waiting here for a very long time. It seems as though it’s been forever. I look at the clock. I haven’t really been waiting all that long. However, it has been an hour. That’s a long time to me. That’s a long time to wait.

Where is everyone? I am waiting in the room all by myself. No one has come around for a while now it seemed like. Well, actually it was only an hour. Still, it seemed to be a long time. I wish someone was sitting in the same room with me. Then I would have someone to talk to. Someone would be in the dark just like I was. Or maybe they would know what was going on and they would be able to tell me.

Time moves at the same pace all the time. People say it flies by when you’re having fun, but it’s not really flying by. You’re just not paying enough attention to the time and it only feels as though the time went on faster. It’s the same thing as if you’re expecting something. You’re full of anticipation. You’re waiting.

When you’re waiting, you continuously look at the clock. By watching the clock, the time goes by slowly. A watched pot never boils, my mother used to always say to me. The thing is, the time isn’t really moving slower now that you’re staring at the clock. It’s moving at the same pace, but it just feels slower because we want it to move faster.

Waiting is one of the worst feelings in the world, I think. I think that’s why time appears to move slowly because you don’t know. You don’t know what is going to come next. You don’t know what is going on. You don’t know anything. By not knowing anything, you get nervous. You get scared.

You fear the unknown.

That is exactly what is happening to me right now. I am in fear of the unknown. I wish someone would just come into my room and tell me what was going on outside. I wish someone would come into my room and keep my company while I wait. I wish someone would bring him into my room with a smile on their face and tell me that everything was fine.

Why did they have to take him out of the room? Why couldn’t I go with him? Why couldn’t he have stayed with me? Why did this have to take so long? I am still waiting in my room. I am still watching the clock. Time is still moving at the same pace, but it appears to move slower than normal. Time is mocking me.

“Angela?”

I sit upright in my bed and wince from the pain, but I don’t dare to lie back down. I look to my right and see my husband standing in the doorway.

“Where have you been?” I demand. “What is going on out there? Why has everyone left me? Is everything okay? Is everyone okay? Is Nicholas okay?”

My husband chuckles and sits down on the side of my bed. He takes my right hand in his own, careful not to poke the IV needle stuck inside my wrist.

“Everyone and everything is just fine. Nicholas is doing wonderful as well. They took him out of the room to run a few tests on him because–”

“Tests?” I panic. “What kind of tests? What’s wrong with him? What happened? You just said that everything was fine!”

He kisses me on the forehead. He’s still smiling. Why is he smiling?

“They run these tests on every newborn. Everything came back fine, though. Nicholas is in a room with a lot of other babies with our family and friends peeking in through the windows to stare at him in awe at how beautiful he is… at how much he looks like his mother.” My husband explains to me.

I smile. He sure did have a way with words. Then I glare at him. “Well, why did everyone leave me? I thought something was terribly wrong. Why didn’t anyone come in and tell me what was happening? Why didn’t anyone stay in here with me?”

“You fell asleep.” He explains. “We decided to leave the room and let you have some privacy. We all thought you could use the rest after being in labor for 26 hours.”

“Oh,”

I leaned back against my pillow with my husband stroking my hair. I sat upright once more and looked him in the eyes. “Well, I want to see Nicholas. I want to get out of this room and go see him.”

I try to climb out of bed, but my husband blocks my path and gently pushes me back down on my pillow.

“Nicholas will be brought in here in about five minutes for you to feed him. Our family and friends will come say their goodbyes and then you’ll have Nicholas and me all night long. Does that sound like a good plan?”

I smile and lean all the way back in my bed once more. “Yes, that does sound like a good plan.” I close my eyes.

“Don’t fall back to sleep.” He warns.

I did fall back to sleep. When I woke up, Nicholas was in his arms ready to be fed. What a beautiful baby. He did look like his mother indeed.

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Author:

Born and raised in Massachusetts, Rachel Poli is a writer and blogger. She has an associate’s degree in Early Childhood Education and a bachelor’s degree in English Studies. She enjoys writing young adult novels, middle-grade, and children’s picture books. She is currently working on her first novel.

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