She mumbled something.
What? he said.
Leave me alone, she said.
Jeez, he said. Let’s get inside.
He led her through two heavy glass doors. The lobby was dark. There was no one around.
Stay here, he said. I need to figure out where we go.
He found a directory on the wall by the elevators. He went back for Grace but she’d gone.
Jesus, he said, looking around. He found her wandering down a dark hallway toward Cardiology.
Where you goin? he said. We need the fifth floor.
She was mumbling again, head low, gripping the wall.
C’mon, he said.
Look, he said. Service elevator. He pulled her gently toward the doors and they rode up to the fifth floor.
Rows of identical black chairs ran back to back across the room. He sat still, clock thunking on the wall. The waiting room was empty.
He waited.
At six-thirty, a man came in, nodded at Harrison, sat down. He was younger, unshaven, large hands thick with black hair and a small tattoo on each wrist. He looked over at Harrison, sighed, said, first? and Harrison said, yeah. The man hunched forward and stared at the floor and sat there for a long time. Then he rubbed his face, looked up at Harrison and said, you’ll get the hang of it soon enough.
Harrison nodded.
Got three, he said. Handful.
Harrison didn’t say anything.
Made sure I had this for the second.
He brought a small hip-flask from his shirt pocket. He unscrewed the top, took a slug, passed it to Harrison.
Thanks, Harrison said. He took a mouthful, handed it back. The man drank again, offered more, but Harrison waved it away. The man smiled.
The door opened and a nurse stepped in.
Mr. McKay? she said.
The man stood, tucking the flask into the back of his jeans.
Everything’s fine, the nurse said. You’ve got a handsome son.
Well how bout that? the man said, smiling.
Congratulations, Harrison said.
Can I see em?
The nurse nodded.
Good luck buddy, the man said. He left with the nurse and Harrison was alone again.
Captain. I’d ask that you mind your language. Please step back outside of this office and try, if at all possible, to put a lid on it. You dislike waiting. You dislike not knowing. You dislike not being in charge. I’ve seen this before, many times. Although this, I have to say, is the first time I’ve ever heard someone offer to help. Your wife is in the advanced stage of a very routine labor. The last thing anybody—including your wife—either wants or needs is a husband thinking he should run the show. I’m sorry but you’re going to have to get used to this, Captain. Now go back to the waiting room, sit down, and wait.
An hour later, another nurse came in to fetch him. He followed her through a series of swinging double doors into a bright ward of shrouded beds. The nurse led him to a bed at the far end and pulled back the curtain. Grace looked up and smiled.
The nurse pulled the curtain closed as she left.
Hey, he said to Grace.
Hey. Shh. Come see.
She held a white woolen blanket in her arms, so small; a red face, a knitted blue hat. Harrison went over, kissed his wife and bent down, breaking into a lopsided grin. He touched the baby’s cheek.
It’s a girl, Grace said. She smiled.
How you feelin? he said. You okay?
Hair matted either side of her face, blotched red and white but gleaming; her lips fuller than usual.
I’m fine, she said.
You look awful, he said.
Gee, thanks, she said. You look worse, actually. You been drinking?
No, uh, no, not really, he said. Doesn’t matter. I can’t believe we have a little baby girl.
The baby lay silent and still, eyes shut, warm, with a belly full of milk.
Looks pretty straightforward, he said.
You should have been here half an hour ago, she said.
They wouldn’t let me, he said.
I heard.
Grace looked at her daughter.
When can we get out of here? Harrison said.
I’ll find out, Grace said.
Can I hold her? he said.
Sure you can, daddy-o, she said.
Grace carefully lifted the bundle toward his outstretched arms. He held her gently, his left hand bigger than her head. She coughed. It felt good to know there were doctors nearby. He held her close.
She smells good, he said.
That’ll change, she said.
He walked around the room with her, feeling her knees press against his rib cage.
You know, Grace said, Florence isn’t such a bad name.
Florence, he said. Florence Mayton …
Mayton? she said.
My mother, he said.
Really?
Yeah.
No, I mean, do we have to?
I’d like to, he said.
Florence Mayton Harrison … she said. Yeah, okay then.
Yeah? he said. That’s what you want?
Sure. You?
He thought for a second then said, yeah.
Okay then, she said. Here, let me see her.
He brought her over.
Florence … Grace said, as Harrison held her up. Florence …
You’re gonna be a daddy’s girl, aren’t you? he said, bringing her closer to his face. We’re gonna go huntin, fishin— Probably catch more than you do, Grace said.