The phone call, part 3

The phone call that changed my life

What had just happened?

Did I really just do that?

I froze in panic. At this point my body could do nothing but scream. So I screamed. I screamed the loudest I have ever screamed. It felt better, but only for a second. Screaming wouldn't fix this. As scattered as my mind was, It had already started to work out a plan b. Somehow I knew what I needed to do.

To complicate things further, there were only two sets of keys to the store. There was the set I had absent-mindedly locked in the safe, and the owners set which was with him, at his home, 45 mintes away. I had to call him back and explain that he needed to come unlock me from the store, regardless of how upset he was going to be with me. After all, I needed to get out, and I still needed to get to London.

The phone call didn't go well. He swore. A lot. But ultimately had no choice but drop everything he was doing and drive the 45 minutes to unlock me. I now had at least 45 minutes before getting out of the store. The friend I had asked to pick me up and give me a ride home had heard me scream while waiting for me in his vehicle and was now standing on the other side of the locked glass pane door. There was a look of confusion washed over his face. I awkwardly and loudly explained to him through the glass what I had done. He graciously offered to smash the window, but I couldn't accept. There was nothing he could do to help me. I could only wait.

I knew there was a roommate at home, so I text him and explained what had happened. I asked him politely to pack a bag for me, knowing there was clean laundry and a backpack behind my unlocked bedroom door. If my ride to London could first stop at my house and pick up the bag that my room mate had agreed to pack for me, he could then come and get me at the store and we could leave from there instead. This would take about 45 minutes, giving the owner enough time to make the drive to let me out, and we could then get directly on the 401 and go to London from the store, where I was locked.

Plan b worked perfectly. My ride showed up on time with my packed bag accompanied by the kind roommate who packed the bag and had nothing else to do with his time but tag along. You can never have too much emotional support in times of need. At the same time, the discruntled owner arrived with his keys and let me out. It was 9pm. Plan b had come together and we were headed to London. I just needed to get there.

I quickly reviewed everything in my head. I still hadn't actually talked to her since 5pm, four hours and counting. I had absolutely no idea what was going on. I knew she was pregnant, I knew she had gone into labor, but that was it. I had been in contact with Sarah via text, and she had told me all of this. But she had no idea what had just happened with me at the store, and thought I would be arriving there any minute. I was still an hour away.

Wait, what? She's pregnant?!?

With all of the excitement of locking myself in the store, I hadn't actually stopped to think about what was truly happening. The magnitude of the situation started to fully sink in as I sat in the dark back seat for the drive to London. The next hour would be the longest most confusing hour of my life. Most father's-to-be get 9 months prep time, give or take, to transition to parenthood. I had one single hour in that dark back seat.

I had never wanted kids, adamantly opposed to the idea at a very early age. In my experience, kids were clumsy, dirty, sticky, leaky, contagious, misbehaved little dissasters. I was perfectly content being the world's best uncle one day, buying gifts I shouldn't buy and saying things I shouldn't say. This required the least amount of responsibility possible. Having a child was the exact opposite of that. It meant actually being a parent......

My mind raced as we pulled up to the front doors of the hospital. I had text Sarah to be out front, she responded that she was waiting. But where was she?