CHAPTER FIVE
It was the middle of May the following year. Neo was seated at the kitchen table, eating an apple and reading the daily newspaper, scanning for information about the rugby match held the night before. He'd missed out, Pia having had her first birthday party. Trinity had prepared a huge dinner with Pia's friends from playgroup, and they'd all had fun squishing the rich chocolate mud cake between their hands and smearing it all over their faces.
Neo took a moment to reflect on his life so far as he watched his daughter giggle and laugh with her friends. They all sat in a circle, with Trinity only feet away, watching them with a glowing pride only surpassed by the brightness of the sun that afternoon.
Pia had been born prematurely, having been due in early March and instead having arrived on the 17th February. Trinity had been out walking their dog, Aron, when she'd felt rippling sensations issuing from her abdomen. Alarmed, she raced back to the house, where Neo was sleeping in front of the television.
'Neo, wake up!' Trinity had said, shaking him gently on the shoulder.
'W-What?' Neo said, the meaning of his statement hindered by his yawn.
'I think,' Trinity said, 'that the baby's coming.'
Neo suddenly jerked awake. He had not expected this. The doctors had made it clear that they oughtn't expect the baby for a little less than a month, having visited the obstetrician only days earlier. 'You're joking,' he said.
'I'm not,' she said adamantly, placing a hand on her stomach. 'I'm feeling contractions, or at least what feel like contractions. And,' she said, 'my water broke on my way back.'
'Shit,' Neo said, springing up from the chair and grabbing Trinity by the shoulders and guided her out of the room. 'I'll drive you to the hospital.'
'Neo, I can walk myself....'
'No, you can't. It's okay. I'll help,' he said. She was about to object, but realised there was no point.
He bundled her into the car, and threw himself in the front seat.
'It's okay, baby,' he said, 'just breathe.'
'Neo,' she said. 'I do not need to breathe. I'm fine.'
'No, you're not,' he said. 'You're in labour. You need to breathe.'
'Neo, I don't need this theatrical shit. Just get me to the damn hospital.'
The hospital was bright and startlingly white, and Neo noted that it reminded him too much of the train station for his liking. He sat in a chair outside Trinity's room for several hours. Occasionally he would hear a shriek issue from inside; and then there would be silence.
'Mr Anderson?' a nurse suddenly said, breaking his reverie. 'We're taking her to the delivery room. We'll be back soon.' Seconds later, a stricken Trinity was wheeled out of the room, pale and insignificant against an ocean of stark white blankets and pillows.
'Trin,' he said, a lump forming in his throat, 'love you.' He clasped her hand briefly as she was wheeled past. She flashed him a weak smile back.
Forty three minutes later, Neo first heard the cry of the baby that he would later discover was his daughter. When the nurses emerged, cradling the tiny newborn in their arms, Neo's eyes filled with tears against all his efforts to defy sentimentality, and couldn't help thinking how beautiful his life was, now that he had his wife and a new baby daughter in the world.
The newspaper was scant of information about the rugby match that morning, an infuriated Neo noted, but a subheading caught his eye as he flicked backwards through the paper. 'STOCKHOLM FORUM TO BE HELD IN MAY'. Suddenly, Neo remembered the Oracle's words, and almost choked on the piece of apple he was chewing.
'Trin!' he called out, and she came running from the living room, holding a screaming Pia in her arms. 'What is it?' she said crossly.
'The information about the forum, it's in the paper,' he said, jabbing at the newspaper before him. 'We've got to go, Trin. We've got to.'
'Well, ring up the Stockholm Institute and book tickets,' she said. 'I'll call the travel agents. When is it?'
'May 4th until the 7th.'
'We can go in late April and have a holiday first,' she said. 'I'll ring now.'
'Can we afford it?'
'Yes.'
Days later, they received both their plane tickets and their forum passes in the mail.
Pia was too little to understand fully, but she sensed an air of excitement in the house. Her parents often said to her, 'Guess what, Pia-baby? We're going to Denmark. We're all going on a holiday.' And Pia would giggle and laugh, as though she knew exactly what was going to happen.
It was the middle of May the following year. Neo was seated at the kitchen table, eating an apple and reading the daily newspaper, scanning for information about the rugby match held the night before. He'd missed out, Pia having had her first birthday party. Trinity had prepared a huge dinner with Pia's friends from playgroup, and they'd all had fun squishing the rich chocolate mud cake between their hands and smearing it all over their faces.
Neo took a moment to reflect on his life so far as he watched his daughter giggle and laugh with her friends. They all sat in a circle, with Trinity only feet away, watching them with a glowing pride only surpassed by the brightness of the sun that afternoon.
Pia had been born prematurely, having been due in early March and instead having arrived on the 17th February. Trinity had been out walking their dog, Aron, when she'd felt rippling sensations issuing from her abdomen. Alarmed, she raced back to the house, where Neo was sleeping in front of the television.
'Neo, wake up!' Trinity had said, shaking him gently on the shoulder.
'W-What?' Neo said, the meaning of his statement hindered by his yawn.
'I think,' Trinity said, 'that the baby's coming.'
Neo suddenly jerked awake. He had not expected this. The doctors had made it clear that they oughtn't expect the baby for a little less than a month, having visited the obstetrician only days earlier. 'You're joking,' he said.
'I'm not,' she said adamantly, placing a hand on her stomach. 'I'm feeling contractions, or at least what feel like contractions. And,' she said, 'my water broke on my way back.'
'Shit,' Neo said, springing up from the chair and grabbing Trinity by the shoulders and guided her out of the room. 'I'll drive you to the hospital.'
'Neo, I can walk myself....'
'No, you can't. It's okay. I'll help,' he said. She was about to object, but realised there was no point.
He bundled her into the car, and threw himself in the front seat.
'It's okay, baby,' he said, 'just breathe.'
'Neo,' she said. 'I do not need to breathe. I'm fine.'
'No, you're not,' he said. 'You're in labour. You need to breathe.'
'Neo, I don't need this theatrical shit. Just get me to the damn hospital.'
The hospital was bright and startlingly white, and Neo noted that it reminded him too much of the train station for his liking. He sat in a chair outside Trinity's room for several hours. Occasionally he would hear a shriek issue from inside; and then there would be silence.
'Mr Anderson?' a nurse suddenly said, breaking his reverie. 'We're taking her to the delivery room. We'll be back soon.' Seconds later, a stricken Trinity was wheeled out of the room, pale and insignificant against an ocean of stark white blankets and pillows.
'Trin,' he said, a lump forming in his throat, 'love you.' He clasped her hand briefly as she was wheeled past. She flashed him a weak smile back.
Forty three minutes later, Neo first heard the cry of the baby that he would later discover was his daughter. When the nurses emerged, cradling the tiny newborn in their arms, Neo's eyes filled with tears against all his efforts to defy sentimentality, and couldn't help thinking how beautiful his life was, now that he had his wife and a new baby daughter in the world.
The newspaper was scant of information about the rugby match that morning, an infuriated Neo noted, but a subheading caught his eye as he flicked backwards through the paper. 'STOCKHOLM FORUM TO BE HELD IN MAY'. Suddenly, Neo remembered the Oracle's words, and almost choked on the piece of apple he was chewing.
'Trin!' he called out, and she came running from the living room, holding a screaming Pia in her arms. 'What is it?' she said crossly.
'The information about the forum, it's in the paper,' he said, jabbing at the newspaper before him. 'We've got to go, Trin. We've got to.'
'Well, ring up the Stockholm Institute and book tickets,' she said. 'I'll call the travel agents. When is it?'
'May 4th until the 7th.'
'We can go in late April and have a holiday first,' she said. 'I'll ring now.'
'Can we afford it?'
'Yes.'
Days later, they received both their plane tickets and their forum passes in the mail.
Pia was too little to understand fully, but she sensed an air of excitement in the house. Her parents often said to her, 'Guess what, Pia-baby? We're going to Denmark. We're all going on a holiday.' And Pia would giggle and laugh, as though she knew exactly what was going to happen.