I rushed home under my umbrella, trying to keep it above the heads of the other rain-soaked pedestrians around me, and occasionally hearing their disgruntled grumblings as I failed. I didn’t stop to apologise, didn’t even slow down to see if they were alright – I had somewhere I had to be.
Sprinting now, I gave up on the umbrella and let the icy rain claim me, pushing through a sea of trench coats and respectable hats.
‘Excuse me, excuse me,’ I grunted, pushing people aside. ‘I’m gonna be a father!’
The crowd was, predictably, unmoved by my news.
I glanced at my watch, wiped away the water droplets and glanced at it again. How was I running so late?
My wife’s sister had called me from the hospital and told me the whole story. They’d been discussing installing plaster wall dividers with a contractor when a funny look came over her face and she grabbed her stomach. Next thing she and the contractor knew, they had to jump out of the splash zone as her water broke.
‘It’s happening?!’ I’d almost screamed down the phone, squeezing the handset so hard I heard the plastic creaking.
‘Yes, yes,’ my sister-in-law said impatiently. She’d never liked me, less so since I’d gotten her sister pregnant and sealed my place in her life forever. ‘But you have to hurry, the doctors are saying her contractions are—’
‘I’m on my way!’ I hollered, slamming the phone down and running out of the room. My co-workers stepped quickly aside as I rushed for the elevator, then the stairs once the elevator took too long.
My thoughts raced with images of my future, of my kid’s future. What if he was going to be an incredible artist? Or a renowned plasterer working in the Melbourne area? It would certainly make sense, considering what his mum was doing when he came into the world.
‘Excuse me, excuse me!’ I cried out, pushing my way through the hospital doors and up to the reception desk. ‘I’m looking for Abigail!’
‘Last name?’ the receptionist turned her glasses down at me.
For the life of me, I couldn’t remember my own last name.