She did.
At 12:16 a.m., I received a text.
Grant, I think my water broke.
Please call me.
I recall thinking it because it has followed me ever since.
Not tonight.
Not Is she okay?
Not My son is coming.
Not I need to get home.
Just:
Not tonight.
I called her twenty-three minutes later from the bathroom so Tessa wouldn’t wake up.
By then Mrs. Pearl was driving her to the hospital.
Corinne was breathing hard.
“Where are you?”
“Atlanta.”
“Come home.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“As soon as I can.”
“Grant.”
“I said I’m coming.”
“Are you alone?”
I should have known.
The question was too calm.
“Of course.”
Another contraction hit Corinne.
I heard her breath catch.
Then she said, “Okay.”
Okay.
By the time I reached the hospital, Owen was six hours old.
Corinne never asked why it had taken so long.
I mistook that for mercy.
