Chapter 6
Six
Either not noticing my shock or pretending not to, Hilary continued with the meeting. “The next thing we need to discuss is when we’re going to kick things off.”
Her smile was bright and in such opposition to the horror twisting through me that I had the sudden urge to scream, and I clenched my jaw to hold in the bitter words roiling through me.
I felt like I had to unscrew it so I could ask, “It won’t be right away?”
“We don’t want to put a damper on your birthday since we know you’ll want to celebrate,” she paused as if giving me the chance to thank her, her fake smile wider than ever, but went on without so much as a blink when I said nothing, “and we like to kick things off on the first of every month to keep the process uniform. Organization is paramount when it comes to things like this, after all.”
June first it would be, then, which gave me ten days to mentally prepare myself. Of course, I was no fool. I’d been trying to do that since I was sixteen years old and realized I was fertile, but I’d been no more ready to receive that letter than that na?ve girl had been ten years ago.
“We’ll make sure all the preliminary tests are done by then and we’ll need you to get an internal ultrasound to make certain everything is shipshape, which you can do at your convenience as long as it’s before the first of the month.
You’ll start taking some medication in the meantime.
Vitamins and things like that. After all, we want to make sure you’re as healthy as can be,” Hilary continued.
“And we need to go over privacy. While patient confidentiality is very important, you need to be aware that all your medical information will be compiled and shared not just with the doctors and other medical professionals caring for you, but with the government as well. The goal of The Fertility Act isn’t just to rebuild the population, but also to figure out why some women are still fertile, and others aren’t.
We need to look at the big picture, which means doing everything we can to fix this crisis. Do you understand?”
I’d heard this spiel more times than I could count and replied without giving the statement much thought. “Yes.”
“Good.” She scribbled something on the form in front of her then flipped to the next page. “There’s also the topic of our privacy to go over.”
“Your privacy?” I asked, wondering if she was speaking about herself specifically or something else.
“Yes.” When Hilary glanced up, her brown eyes bored into mine.
“We need you to sign a nondisclosure agreement. Today. This form makes it illegal for you to discuss the inner workings of the Department of Fertility with anyone without prior consent, which includes posting on all forms of media. That encompasses newspapers, talk shows, reporters from any and all venues, and even social media itself. We’ve found that these kinds of stories are too often twisted and used to push one agenda or another, and that they conflict with what the Department of Fertility is trying to achieve.
We want to focus on creating life, not putting out fires that never should have been started to begin with. Do you understand?”
I didn’t. “But I’ve seen women interviewed about their time in the program.”
Hilary gave me a placating smile. “Those women asked permission, and their stories were approved by the Department of Fertility. Like I said, we need to be careful what gets out there, but we also understand the value of women sharing their positive experiences with the world.”
What she was saying slammed into me, making it impossible to respond even though I shouldn’t have been shocked.
I’d always known the upbeat interviews were propaganda, but I hadn’t realized how it worked.
No one had ever mentioned a nondisclosure agreement before, which was probably because they were forbidden from talking about it.
“There are women who try to get around this.” Hilary was once again writing something on the paper in front of her.
“Women who think they can outsmart the government by sharing things on the Internet anonymously. They don’t get away with it for long, and once their identities are discovered, they do face the consequences.
” She looked up, her pen poised over the next line as her gaze held mine.
“Breaking this agreement is punishable by fines of up to $25,000 and five years in prison. We mean business, Miss Murphy, so don’t forget that. ”
I swallowed. “I won’t.”
“Good.”
Hilary’s eyes were locked with mine for a few seconds longer before she went back to her form.
I’d paid very little attention to what she was doing up to that point but peered at the paper now.
Even upside down, I could make out the words and realized that beneath each of the key points she’d gone over, she’d written my response and her impression of it.
Knowing so much of this was being documented sent a shiver shooting through me.
Were they recording me as well? I looked around, saw nothing to indicate they were, but wouldn’t put it past Big Brother.
When she’d finished documenting the discussion, Hilary turned the paper around and held the pen out.
“This is the first form you need to sign. It outlines everything we’ve talked about so far and verifies that I’ve gone over all of it with you.
You also need to initial the bottom of each of these pages.
” She tapped a pointed red nail on the pile in front of me.
Pen in hand, I scanned the document. “Should I read it?”
“If you like, but I can assure you that I’ve gone over it all and haven’t in any way misrepresented your responses or my impressions of them.”
I believed her, but also thought I should do my due diligence.
I began flipping the pages, scanning the topics we’d discussed as well as Hilary’s notes.
Patient seems hesitant about the program, which could be an issue down the road. We’ll want to keep an eye on her emotional state as things proceed.
I ground my teeth. Hesitant? That was the fucking understatement of the century.
I initialed the bottom of the page and flipped to the next one, at first scanning the topics as well as the things Hilary had written but finally giving up because as far as I could tell, she was right.
She’d gone over all of it with me and the notes she’d taken were accurate.
She’d noted every time I seemed unsure or worried, every question I’d asked, and even the random statements I’d made. She was good.
When I was finished initialing, I scribbled my signature on the line at the bottom of the final page, organized the stack, and passed it to Hilary.
“Thank you,” she said, setting it aside and turning her attention to the papers we’d yet to go over. There were a lot, which meant we were going to be here for a while.
The next few hours were a whirlwind of rules, consequences, and guidelines.
“This is something we shouldn’t have to say,” Hilary was saying, her eyes scanning the page in front of her, “but we will anyway. While in the program it is of the utmost importance that you keep your body healthy. This means absolutely no alcohol. Not even before you’re pregnant.
You are also to abstain from smoking, and obviously drugs.
” Her eyes flicked up, focusing on mine when she asked, “Are you in a relationship?”
“No.”
“Good.” She made a note of my response. “We discourage those in the program from starting new relationships but realize these things happen. We must insist, however, that you do not engage in any risky sexual encounters. Such as one-night stands. Is that understood?”
“Yes.”
More note taking.
“We also insist that protection be used during every sexual encounter. That includes new partners and long-term relationships. This greatly reduces the risk of sexually transmitted diseases. Are you in agreement with this?”
“Yes.”
The scribble of her pen against the paper was starting to grate at me.
“You are to see a dietician, take prenatal vitamins and folic acid every day, and abstain from any foods that are considered detrimental to the fetus. Even before you are pregnant. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
I thought my one-word answers would start to get to her at some point, but she barely reacted before making more notes.
“Do you have a cat?”
I hesitated before responding to this one, not sure what she was getting at, but finally said, “No.”
“You are not to get a cat, is that clear?” She must have seen the confusion on my face because she added, “Their feces carry toxoplasmosis, which can be transmitted to the fetus and cause blindness and mental disabilities. Which I’m sure you can agree, we want to avoid. Understood?”
“I’ve never wanted a cat,” I said, finally forgoing the one-word answers in favor of honesty.
“Excellent.” Her pen scratched against the paper.
“In addition to weekly visits with a medical professional, you must attend monthly counseling, which includes a support group compiled of other women going through the program. We hold it here the first Wednesday of every month at six o’clock in the evening and provide drinks and dinner.
We believe it’s important to create a community of people in order to reduce stress and give you a sounding board when you need to talk about something. ”
Again, I was taken aback. It hadn’t occurred to me that I would be offered counseling, let alone forced to attend sessions, and while I got what she was saying, I also couldn’t help wondering if this was yet another way for them to keep tabs on me.
“Is that agreeable?” Hilary asked, her pen poised over the form.
“Yes,” I managed to get out even though it wasn’t. Not at all.
“Good.” She scribbled a few more things, signed on the line at the bottom, then passed the new stack to me. “Same as before. Initials at the bottom of every page and signature on the last one.”
Like the first time around, I started by scanning the things she’d written but quickly grew bored and just started initialing.
I was also irritated by Hilary’s observations about me, mostly because they were spot on.
Either she’d been doing this for a while, or she was very good at reading people. Maybe both.
When I’d passed the newly signed forms back, Hilary set them with the others she’d already filled out and moved on to a new stack.
“Now it’s time to discuss expectations and consequences.”