1.

The ring road traffic stood stationary for miles beyond sight and with it came the undeniable fact that he was going to be late for his own child's birth, which would in all probability be coupled with his early demise at the hands of his infuriated wife.
It was not his fault, truly. He'd had an urgent call from an important client who was struggling with the legal dispute with his now estranged wife, which only he, Todd Collins 'junior partner' could address. He created his respectable profile by battling divorce cases with not only favourable results, but with a demeanour and discretion that often resulted in an amicable settlement for both sides. This was an unusual skill for a lawyer who's normal focus would be to win and win with a convincing rigour, but Todd could leave a meeting with both parties smiling and in good humour. It was a talent that was highly regarded by partners who valued an amicable split, and despite the clichéd images of the wrangling of soon to be divorcees, there are a healthy number who don't want to fight. Yes, Colin was part lawyer, part counsellor and damn good at both. This, however, did not help him in his present predicament.
The interstate moved with the agility of an arthritic snake in the throes of its death and he could not believe he'd chosen his clients needs over those of his own wife's. He had known that the birth was imminent and, in fact, Julie was overdue by three days, and yet he'd let Julie convince him to go, and she was always so convincing. She had assured him that the doctor said it could be weeks until Julie actually went into labour, but he had been a fool and wanted to be swayed.

“What an idiot!” he shouted and punched the horn, which only added to the chorus coming from the thousands of cars stuck in the same jam. “Although you guys are not going to be late for your own son's birth!” he shouted in frustration.

He turned on the radio and tuned into the local stations to see if he could get any news on what was causing the delay, but after traversing the bad 80's music and daytime talk shows, one ironically covering the subject of parental neglect and its impact in children later in life, he turned off and picked up his mobile with a trepidation he rarely felt. He pressed the speed dial for Julie's number. It rang out twice and then connected.

“Hi sweetie?” he asked tentatively and he couldn't believe that she'd picked up whilst in labour.
“Not quite Todd. Where the hell are you!?” asked Julie's sister.
“Oh Jesus Diane, I'm stuck on the bloody ring road!”
“Why the hell are you there, you moron!?” her tone reflected his own mixture of frustration and panic.
“Client in trouble and he er...”
“Fuck your client Todd this is your wife we're talking about here. You should be here getting your hand crushed and mopping her brow.”
“I know, I know, I'm an idiot who deserves to slowly roast in hell with all the other bad husbands. I am trying though it's just this ridiculous traffic! How is she?”
“Pissed off and wanting your severed head served with her epidural, but otherwise fine. Just get your ass here. I don't care how, just do it!” and with the finality of this statement also came the termination of the call, she'd hung up.

A beep accompanied the termination of the call. Todd looked at his IPhone as its battery died.

“Shit!” he chucked the phone on the back seat in frustration.

The conversation with Diane has bolstered his resolve. He had clarity, a frenzied drive gripped him and swung the car hard right and onto the central reservation. Grabbing his briefcase, he opened the car door and was greeted with the din of traffic and a wall of exhaust fumes. He locked the car and thanked god that the traffic was gridlocked in both directions and he could negotiate the cars and cross the ring road to the slip road, which lead towards suburbia.
With a renewed grip on his briefcase and his sense of purpose, he walked off the verge and into civilisation once more.

2.

The dejected suburb of Haldon crept closer and he carefully trod the verge of the slip road. Towers of once bustling and productive paper mills and run down corner shops presented a foreboding sense of imminent stabbing or at the very least a nasty mugging. Todd took his wallet out of his coat pocket, removed two twenties and placed one in his sock and another in his watch pocket. This was a trick he'd learnt as a kid being regularly assaulted by the neighbourhood bully Tom Grimshaw for his lunch money. He cringed at the cliché of this childhood dilemma.
He looked at his watch, 10:52 (pm) it said in the blinking digital clarity of his classic Casio replica that Julie had bought him last Christmas. Every minute burnt a hole in his self control. If he didn't get to the hospital soon he would be running through town shouting obscenities and acting like an orang-utan.
A battered pedestrian sign announcing 'Bus Station' came into view like some angelic gift of the gods pointing him the way to salvation. He turned and walked down in the direction it was pointing, a street that offered dark and dangerous things, but with the glow of flood lights in the distance that he prayed was the station itself. Why not allow himself that hope? It was perfectly within reason that there would be public transport in this town, there had to be. Todd quickened his pace, bolstered by Diane's words: “ Just get your ass here. I don't care how, just do it!” echoing in his mind.

The halo of halogen lights lit up the car park of the Costco with sharp relief to his plummeting expectation. He ran to the store with renewed vigour, there had to be salvation within.

“Can I help you sir?” asked the pock marked attendant in a comatose drawl only reserved to teenagers and drug addicts.
“Yeah, do you have a car?”
“What?!” said the attendant with a slight flicker of cerebral computation registering behind his half lidded eyes.
“My wife is about to give birth, my car has broken down (this was easier to explain) and I need a lift!” He could hear a manic tone to his voice.
“Oh, sorry sir, but Mr Blyth does not allow me to leave the counter before closing.”
“Fine, can you tell me where I can find Mr...”
“Excuse me, hi,” came a voice from behind him.

Todd turned to a overweight smiling man who could have made a superb Father Christmas with rosy cheeks, jolly demeanour, and boasting a infeasibly long white beard.

“I know, I know. Santa Clause, right?” said the man with a good humoured chuckle.
“Well, yes actually. You look like you've come straight off the Coke advert”.
“Yeah, I get that a lot, but listen, are you needing to go into town? Something about your wife having a baby?”
A moment of hope filled Todd's body like a bolt of electricity. “Yes, I need to get to St Lorenza's Hospital, like...” he looked at the Casio watch, it showed 11:11 “half an hour ago!”
The fake Father Christmas chucked to himself. “Come on I'll take you, let me just pay for this stuff and we'll be on our way.”
“Oh my god, that would be great …?”
“Jones, just call me Jones.” said the fat man trying to punch in his credit card pin with his sausage fingers.

Jones' car was a battered Nissan Bluebird with rust spreading virally through its bodywork.

“Here's my chariot! Get in and we'll get you there in no time. I know the best route.” He chimed with a tone of glee.
“That's fantastic. Again I can't thank you enough.”
“Oh pish, just helping out a fella in need, that's all.”

3.

The car raced with surprising speed along the dark dirty roads heading towards to nimbus of light that was the city and for the first time Todd could feel his panic begin to ebb.

“Girl or Boy?” asked Jones, with a little spittle flying out of his mouth, some caught by the reach of his beard.
“What? Oh, er, we don't know. I mean we didn't want to know. We want it to be a surprise.”
“Oh, I see. If you don't want to talk about it...”
“What? No it's not that at all. It's just that we want it to be a surprise when it's born. You understand?” Todd was starting to get a little nervous of this huge man sitting next to him.
“No, that's fine. It's your business. Just trying to make chit chat.” said Jones indignantly.

Todd was starting to get nervous about the man who was driving at an increasing speed, even being slightly reckless. Was it the urgency of his need to get to the hospital or testament to this man's uneven mind?
He looked down by his feet in the foot well and only now recognised an extensive stash of pornography poking out from under the passenger seat. There was no reason why this should have sent a shiver up his spine, but it did. It was every man's right to look at skin mags, but there was something unnervingly creepy about a man looking uncannily like Father Christmas jacking off to 'Big Jugs'.

“You've seen my girls, eh?” said the big man.
“What? Oh yeah. You have a lovely collection.” he said trying not to sound like he was taking the piss.
“Go on, grab one of those babies. Take a peek.”
The thought of touching one of those magazines sent a wave of revulsion through his body.
“No thanks, but thanks anyway.” he said in a polite tone.
“What? Am I not good enough for ya or something?” said Jones leaning his bulk towards Todd creating an imposing figure.
“Eh? No, of course not. Why would you say ...”
“You don't like my mags, you wont tell me if your nipper is a girl or a boy...”
“No I said...” Todd tried to interject.
“... you don't even like Betty!”
“Betty?” he asked slinking to wards the door as this man turned from a Farther Christmas figure into a psychotic mental case.
“My fucking car, Betty!” the man said slapping the steering wheel to emphasise the point.
“Okay Jones. I want you to stop the car and let me out. Okay?”
“No, it's not 'Okay', you wanted a lift and I'M GIVING YOU ONE!”

The fat man put his foot to the floor with the accelerator and started ranting incoherently, babbling words that made no sense and dribbling copious amounts of spittle onto the windscreen.

“Please stop Jones. I'm sorry if I offended you!” he pleaded his hand finding the door latch.
But Jones was in some kind of frenzied trance and his eyes flickered like he was about to lose consciousness. The car slowed down. Maybe due to Jones calming down or stumbling into unconsciousness, Todd did not care. He opened the door, braced for impact and jumped out of the hell car and rolled onto the pavement.
The Nissan Bluebird 'Betty' continued on regardless with its passenger door swinging manically. Todd checked himself for broken bones but all he had was a huge pain in his side and a swollen big toe. Not bad considering what could have happened if he's stayed in the car.
He was nearer town now and the streets and neighbourhood looked more civilised, large Victorian houses and whitewashed town houses told tales of rich suburbanites nestled comfortably in soft couches next to open fires. Todd envied them as he looked at his torn and tattered suit, looking more like a wandering hobo than a respectable member of society.

On the corner St George road and Crescent Avenue, Todd beheld a sight which was so beautiful it brought tears to he eyes. 'Victoria Road Taxi's' was wrote in finest light box lettering across a sizeable building, which bustled with activity. He limped towards the 'customers' door with a sense of relief and utter exhaustion.

4.

The taxi driver was blessedly quiet and drove with suitable speed understanding Todd's urgency but also not driving like a psychotic Father Christmas. The street lights blurred into a hypnotic pattern as Todd could feel the adrenaline lag take hold. His eyes fluttered threatening full closure when the neon cross sign of the hospital came into view coupled with a sign announcing itself as the 'Maternity Wing'.

“We're here sir.” said the driver holding out his expectant hand. Todd shoved a twenty into his hand and left the taxi.

A blast of cold greeted him and woke him up as he could feel renewed adrenaline. He was close now.
The bright lights of reception hurt his eyes as he made his way to a butch-looking nurse.

“My wife is in labour. Can you please tell me which room she's in please?”
“Sure, her name please?” asked the nurse in the robotic fashion of someone who's had to say the same questions repeatedly.
“Julie Davis.”
“Umm, yes, she in room five. I think you're just in time.” She said with a sly wink.
“Thanks!”

He rushed down the corridor frantically searching until he saw Julie's brother Dan and his girlfriend Tania seating outside nursing cups of machine coffee.

“Jesus, Todd, you know how to live life dangerously mate.” said Dan getting up and slapping his back playfully.
“You would not believe mate. How is she?” he asked tentatively.
“Why don't you find out?” said Tania pointedly.
“Okay, you right.” admitted Todd turning to handle to room five.

The doctor and who he recognised as their midwife Doreen were hustling around the rear of Julie and Diane was holding her hand and whispering encouragingly. Diane turned to and looked at him with a look of anger and relief Todd had never witnessed before.

“Jesus wept Todd, where have you been?!” she asked with clenched teeth as if her hand was been slowly crushed, which it probably was.
“I've been though hell Diane, sorry.”
“Hell, hey? Welcome to its epicentre! Take you wife's hand now!” she said extracting hers from Julie's grip.

He rushed to Julie taking her hand. She was sweating and breathing erratically. All that he's learnt in Lamaze class fled his memory and all he could think to say was: “I'm here now, honey.”

“Where have you been, you bastard? She said through intakes of breath.
“Oh, you know, abandoned car in the ring road, hijacked by a psychopath Santa and had to jump out of a moving car.”
“Stop joking and mope my brow!” she punctuated the sentence with clenching Todd's so hard it felt worse than his unconventional exit from the Hell Car.
“Okay honey, sure thing.” Julie past him a damp flannel and his heart raced as the doctor announced that he could see its head.
“Push Mrs Davis PUSH!”

A scream pierced the walls of St Lorenza's hospital so loud that geriatrics in the ward next door turned down their hearing aids and children in Paediatrics looked nervously as the cartoon clad walls from whence the scream came.

“You sonofabitch, you bastard!!!” this list of profanities blurred into incoherency as his wife gave birth and all he could do was mop her brow and say 'Breath, darling, breath'. He felt useless, out of place. An inert bystander to a miracle.
“That's it, Mrs Davis, once more PUSH!” said the doctor enthusiastically.

The doctor extracted their baby as though receiving a rugby ball. It was slimey, veiney but also sublime.

“You have a boy, Mr & Mrs Davis. Congratulations!” said the doctor also using these well rehearsed lines, but with a genuine sense of glee. The doctor snipped the umbilical cord, cleaned and passed Julie the baby.
Todd felt emotions so strong, unlike anything he'd ever felt. He could feel tears flowing down his face and he hastened them away.

“He is so beautiful honey and you did so well. I'm so proud of you.” He said kissing her forehead and then his new son's.
She looked jubilant, full of life-giving energy. She turned to him with an ecstatic smile and tears in her eyes.
“I love you too sweetheart, but if you don't have the grandaddy of all reasons why you were not here I'm going to kill you.”
Just then their new son let out a whaling cry that shattered the tranquillity.
“He gets that from you.” said Todd with a nod of certainty.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 23.01.2011

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Widmung:
To my beautiful wife Lory.