“You need to come home. Now.”
“I hear you,” I reply, holding the phone at a distance. Maya’s voice comes across the line at a higher decibel level than usual. “Are you sure you’re feeling contractions?”
“Daniel!” It is nearly a shout. “I know what this is and I know that you have to be on the next flight.”
“Alright,” I say, wondering if this isn’t another case of false labor, like the symptoms that sent us to the hospital prematurely just two weeks ago. “I will order my ticket for tonight.”
“I don’t know if I can last that long!”
It is early afternoon so there’s plenty of time to make a reservation. There is no doubt in my mind that there will be an empty seat on the plane. Not many people fly from Sofia to Tel Aviv in the middle of the week.
Read the rest of the story on The Bookends Review.
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