Nine
I'm pretty sure I don't own anything
I pace in the hospital waiting room, waiting to hear something about Melinda, about our child, just wanting to know they're ok. I'm sure it's a boy, but I don't care either way, so long as it's healthy and Melinda is ok.
Absentmindedly, I twist the silver bracelet around on my wrist, as though by doing this it will come off. It's not going to. It has been on my wrist for over three months now; I sincerely doubt it will be removed before I die.
"First one?" another Father is in the waiting room with me, looking at me with a smile. I nod slowly and he laughs. "It's obvious, mate. But she'll be ok, they normally are."
This doesn't give me the best of confidence.
(And it's right to be like this.)
.
Time passes and, soon, all the Fathers waiting in the room with me are gone, replaced by new ones. She's been in there too long. It's not right.
Part of me knows that there's something going on that shouldn't be, but I suppress it, keeping in mind the perfect picture I've painted of the three of us together. The baby will inherit the house when we get older, able to start their own family there; it's all perfect.
"Mr Glass," there's a doctor I vaguely recognise standing in front of me, looking down.
One look at his face tells me everything I need to know.
"Oh God," I mutter, standing up and pushing past him, unable to be in here anymore, with these people waiting to be parents and husbands.
I don't expect him to catch up to me as fast as he does; evidently, my speed is incapacitated by the fact I've just lost the love of my life and my child, the baby that would have been Melinda.
"Mr Glass," the doctor says in a soothing voice. "Your son, he lives. We just saved him…I'm extremely sorry for your loss."
I hear the words "son" and "lives" in the sentence, before my mind blocks out everything to do with Melinda's death.
And I black out.
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Vicky xx
