Chapter 18 #2
The interaction had given me some of the confidence I’d been faking when stepping into the building, but even so, I was relieved to see Vera at the security checkpoint.
We’d barely spoken, but I’d been here enough that I knew I could count on her sympathy.
Even better, as if she’d been watching my interaction with the greeter, Vera had her lips pressed together to hold in a smirk, and her large, brown eyes were flashing with amusement.
“Miss Murphy,” she said as I fished out my ID.
“Hi, Vera.”
She scanned it even though she knew who I was, checked it, then passed it back. She didn’t let go when I grabbed it, and my gaze flicked up to meet hers, and finding the amusement gone, I sobered.
“Good luck…”
The way she let it hang in the air made it clear she was leaving the statement up to my interpretation, and that combined with her sympathetic expression gave me yet another boost.
“Thanks,” I replied, the word not even a little shaky.
She released the ID, and I put it away, then headed for the elevator.
Ramirez was standing by the elevator, the button already lit up and his automatic weapon held loosely in his hands. For once, there was no teasing in his expression, no amusement. He looked almost somber.
“Going up?” he said in a quiet voice.
“You know I am,” I replied, but managed a roll of my eyes.
He glanced past me, focusing on something else as he whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Without looking at me again, he returned to his normal position.
The interaction was strange and unexpected, and it had me wondering if Owen had been right. Maybe more people disagreed with The Fertility Act than I realized.
The elevator dinged and the door opened, and I stepped inside, preparing myself for what was to come.
The greeter’s jubilation would be nothing compared to what I now faced.
Everyone from Department of Fertility Barbie, to Hilary, to the doctor would be ecstatic to see me, and that joy would be multiplied by a thousand if my test came back positive.
Before that happened, I needed to be Zen.
In control. Chill. I would not allow them to see how much this affected me, but I also wouldn’t fake happiness. Ever.
The elevator stopped, a ding sounded, and the door slid open.
I stepped out, my back straight and an expression of indifference on my face as I headed for the reception desk.
When Department of Fertility Barbie saw me, she began tapping her finger against her tablet.
Seconds later, her eyes widened, and her face broke out in a smile.
“I see it’s been two weeks since insemination,” she said when she looked up.
“That’s right,” I replied in a flat tone.
“I take it you’re here for a test?”
“That’s right,” I repeated, unwilling to say anything else lest I give away my real feelings.
Department of Fertility Barbie’s head bobbed even as she reached for her phone. “I’ll let them know you’re here. You can take a seat.”
I didn’t thank her before heading to the waiting room.
I was more thankful than ever that it was empty, and more than grateful for the distraction of the fish tank when I settled onto the couch.
On the other side of the room, the receptionist was talking to someone on the phone, her voice so low I couldn’t make out a single syllable.
Not that I wanted to. At the moment, all I wanted was to block out everything that was happening.
I picked a fish at random, focusing on it as it swam in circles, twisting between rocks and plastic pink and orange foliage and bubbles. It was bright blue with fins larger than most of the others, and a round body that reminded me of a tick about to pop. Or a pregnant woman.
Damn. Damn my thoughts, and damn these people, and damn my body for being fertile.
I blinked when tears burned my eyes, threatening to make an appearance. No. They would not succeed. I would not let these people see how weak I was. Would not show them how much this hurt.
“Ara!”
Hilary’s excited voice made me jump and twist to face the cursed frosted glass door. My fertility counselor was standing with it propped open, her smile bright and her eyes wide with excitement. If I could throw something at her, I would.
Instead, I forced myself to stand, forced my voice to come out even as I said, “Hilary.”
“I hear you’re here for a test.” She stomped her feet excitedly. “Yay!”
I refused to make a sound or react.
Not at all deterred by my indifference, Hilary pushed the door open wider and waved enthusiastically. “Well, come on.”
I obeyed in silence, moving through the door and stepping aside so I could wait for her to lead the way. She did, chattering as I followed. I didn’t hear a word. Didn’t want to. I did not care what this woman had to say.
She turned at the first hall and stopped at the second door on the right. “There should be specimen cups inside.”
I could just make out a sink and toilet when I peered into the dark room.
“I thought there would be a blood test,” I said, shifting my focus to Hilary.
“Nope.”
Great. I’d hoped to have a delay in the results, but since it was a urine test, that wouldn’t happen. Which meant in less than five minutes – ten if I dragged my feet – I would have the results.
When I didn’t make a move, Hilary waved toward the bathroom door. “Go on, now.”
“Yeah.” I glanced toward the bathroom, swallowed, then forced myself to move.
Everything that happened next was a blur.
Locating the cup, removing my pants, sitting on the toilet.
It was so much like an out of body experience that I couldn’t even recall peeing, and even after I was redressed and standing at the door holding the warm cup, I had no idea if I’d washed my hands.
Not that I cared. Not that it mattered. This was it.
I was about to find out if I would be having a baby in nine months.
I straightened my shoulders and opened the door.
Hilary’s bright smile made me cringe.
“Ready!” she exclaimed in a much too loud voice.
Saying nothing, I held out the cup, silently wishing I hadn’t remembered to wash my hands. And that I’d splashed a little.
Even though Hilary couldn’t have missed my rebellious attitude, her smile didn’t fade as she took the cup, and she said nothing. She wasn’t wearing gloves, and I had to bite back my smirk.
I expected her to call a nurse or take it somewhere, but instead she moved to the door across the hall. The lights turned on automatically when she stepped into the room, and seconds later, she disappeared from view.
As if in a trance, I crossed the hall, reaching the doorway as she set the cup on a counter.
I stood in stunned silence as she started rummaging through the cabinet.
In seconds, she had a packaged stick in her hand, which she ripped open.
Still no gloves. Maybe I could use that somehow down the road.
Complain about hygiene or something? Maybe.
Hilary tore into the package, keeping the stick partially covered.
Then she removed the lid from the cup and pulled the test from its packaging, careful not to touch the sensor.
When she dipped that end in my urine, I held my breath.
I had no idea how long it would take. No clue how I should react.
No clue what the fuck was happening because this sure as hell couldn’t be real.
After a few seconds, Hilary pulled the stick out, put the cap back on, and ripped a paper towel from the holder on the wall.
She set the paper down and put the test on top, not looking at me.
Acting like I didn’t exist. Acting like the stick she was staring at was hers and the results would only affect her.
My lungs started to burn, but still I didn’t exhale. Seconds ticked by, and the need for air grew, but I refused to give my body any sort of relief. I couldn’t relent. Not when this was my only way of taking any kind of control over my life.
Hilary’s attention was riveted on the test, but I was staring at her face, which was how I knew the results before she even made a sound.
When her expression morphed from one of concentration to enthusiasm, I let the breath out of my lungs in a loud whoosh, refilled them, and slumped against the doorframe just as she exclaimed, “Positive!”
Positive. Positive. Positive.
The word echoed through my head, making me queasy. I was pregnant. I was going to have a baby. Against my will.
I wanted to throw up.