Maureen gasped.

"Another one?"

Roger eyed the clock on the nightstand. It had only been four minutes since the last one. Maureen held his hand tighter than before. He smoothed her hair back. "It's okay…it's okay."

Maureen relaxed and looked at Roger. "That was four minutes. And stronger."

Roger nodded, trying to stay calm. "Okay, well let's just wait a minute. Just stay calm."

The next contraction didn't come for eight minutes and was duller than the one before. Roger smiled. "See? It's okay. Getting better, right?"

She nodded.

"So you'll be fine. It's okay."

Roger leaned forward to hug her. She clenched his hand. Hard. "Oh God! Roger! Shit! Damn it! It hurts!"

Roger pulled her into his arms, glancing at the clock. Three minutes? He rubbed her back, trying to keep her calm. "It's okay, Mo. Just keep breathing, babe. It's okay."

She fell back against the pillow. Tears danced in her eyes. "That did not feel like it's okay."

"Doctor said that as long as they're not at regular intervals, it's probably false labor."

"Probably? Roger, I really don't know that we should listen to a doctor that says it's 'probably' false labor."

"Maureen, calm down. He said—he didn't say probably. That was me."

She opened her mouth to say something but groaned instead. "Another one."

"As bad as before?" Roger asked, looking at the clock.

"No, not quite."

"Okay, Maureen, I want you to stay calm, okay?"

"I'm trying to!"

"I know, babe, I know," he said, taking her into his arms again. When her breathing evened, Roger pulled away. "Better?"

"Mmhmm."

"Roger!" He glanced at the clock when she screamed. Shit, two minutes.

"Okay, I'm here! I'm here," Roger said. He grabbed the phone off the nightstand.

"Who the hell are you calling now?"

Roger held her hand instead of answering. "Yes, um, my name's Roger Davis. My friend's six months pregnant and we think she's going into labor…yeah, I was going to but…look, they're two minutes apart an—the doctor said that too…yeah but now they are regular…no, not yet…okay, okay, thanks. Yeah. Avenue A. The old publishing building. Top loft."

Roger hung up and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "It's okay."

"Roger, it's too soon for the baby to—"

"Maureen, listen to me. You need to stay calm. This doesn't mean the baby's coming now. It's okay. Just keep breathing."

Maureen held Roger's hand to her cheek. "Don't leave me, okay?"

"Of course not."

"I'm serious, Roger."

"So am I. I'm not leaving."

There was a knock at the door. "That's the paramedics. I'm coming right back."

Maureen nodded.


An hour later, Roger paced the waiting room alone. The doctors said they couldn't allow anyone back with her, father or not. He went to the payphone and dialed Mark's parents' house. Mr. Cohen answered on the first ring.

"Cohen house-"

"Mr. Cohen, Roger Davis. I need to talk to Mark right now. It's an emergency."

An instant later, Mark was on the phone. "Roger? What's going on?"

"She's in labor."

"What?"

"Labor. I don't know. Maybe false labor? There's, um, the doctor said it was false labor because they weren't regular and then they got regular and now she's back with the doctors and they won't let me back or anybody else and—"

"Where are you?"

"The hospital."

"No shit. Which one?"

"Queens."

"I'm leaving now."