The Waitng Game

        Even though he went through this experience once already, it did not mean he was not scared. Scared for her, scared for himself. Last time ended badly and the nightmare of that long sleepless night came back to him in full force, as soon as it became apparent that things will change irreversibly. He felt like he needed a drink. Hell, he needed two, or even five. While the dark memory of another, more recent night faded, he still felt it.

 

        He still felt the wrongness, lingering in the back of his mind as his fear grew. If anything happened, it would be his doing, even though she wanted him, with tears in her eyes when she made him drop that gun and kissed him. There was nothing that could alleviate this fear, save for her soothing words, when he would lay awake for hours at night, and a faint hope that things were getting better now. He tried to maintain a happy appearance, for their sake, but closer they got to the time, the more he would fuss over her, feel that horrible tightness in his chest and his alcohol cravings were getting worse.

 

        Anna was asleep at home with a nanny, while Booker waited, painful hours of the night sending him back to the same limbo he experienced two decades ago, in a similar chair, in a similar white, tile-lined corridor. He kept smoking one cigarette after another, going through them as if they were candy but that did not help his shakes. He promised her he would stay sober and he intended to make it through as he awaited the news.