Longest Night of my Life

It was the longest night of my life. I knew, in theory, that it was no longer than usual, but nevertheless I couldn't remember a longer night.

I had settled down to wait just after seven, snuggling into the armchair with a book and a mug of hot chocolate, but the words seemed to be sliding around the page and after fifteen minutes I gave up. The house had never felt so silent. It was an oppressive, roaring silence, building until I wanted to claw it out of my skull.

In desperation I switched on the television but the intrusion of colour emphasised the room's emptiness. I switched it off and checked the phone display again. No new calls.

My hot chocolate was cooling and I gulped it down quickly. Although it wasn't yet eight, the sky outside was inky black and I drew the curtains to keep in the light inside.

At some point I drifted off, because I woke with a start at half past one to chilled feet and a stiff neck. In a panic I snatched my phone up again but a glance showed that no one had rung.

I coiled up closer in the beanbag, trying to warm my feet up. It was so frustrating, not knowing how long I had to wait or if it would even be tonight.

Finally, when I had almost given up hope, the phone rang. I snatched it up and then hesitated. Of course it was him; who else would be calling at 2am? I pushed answer and whispered hello, my voice inexplicably lost.

And the words I had been waiting to hear for nine months, since my sister's belly had begun to swell:

“It's a girl, it's a beautiful girl.”


Word count: 293