Chương 8
That made it worse.
I looked at her.
"No."
She nodded once.
Then she set her bag down.
"After my appointment."
I exhaled.
"Okay."
Her phone buzzed.
She looked at the screen.
"They're early."
She surprised me by saying, "You can stay."
I did not move.
"For the appointment?"
"If you want."
The offer hung between us, fragile and strange.
"Am I allowed?"
"It's my appointment."
"I mean, medically."
"It's a video call."
"Right."
She walked toward the kitchen, carrying her phone.
I followed at a distance.
She sat at the table where we had eaten Thai food on February seventeenth.
The same table.
The same dent in the wood near my old chair.
I sat across from her.
For several minutes we waited without speaking.
Then a face appeared on her screen.
A woman in blue scrubs smiled.
"Hi, Alina."
"Hi, Dr. Chen."
The doctor glanced at the screen.
"And I see we have someone with you today."
Alina looked at me.
Neither of us knew what to call me.
I solved it badly.
"I'm Marcus."
Dr. Chen waited.
Alina took a breath.
"He's my husband."
The word landed differently than it had in the courthouse.
Not legally.
Not sentimentally.
Just factually.
May you like
For the moment, despite everything, I still was.
Dr. Chen gave a small nod and did not ask anything else about me."Good to meet you, Marcus.""You too."I sat with my hands clasped between my knees like a nervous parent at a school conference.Dr. Chen looked down at something offscreen."Alina, I reviewed the blood pressure readings you uploaded.""Are they okay?""They're mostly fine, but yesterday evening was a little higher than I'd like."Alina glanced at me as though my presence had somehow caused yesterday."How high?"Dr. Chen gave the number.It meant nothing to me."Is that dangerous?"Both women looked at me.Dr. Chen answered first."Not by itself."I nodded."Okay.""We're watching trends, not a single reading.""Right."Alina leaned toward the laptop."I've had more swelling in my ankles.""Both?""Both.""Headaches?""No.""Visual changes?""No.""Pain under the right ribs?""No."I listened carefully enough that Alina noticed."You don't need to memorize everything.""I wasn't.""You were."Dr. Chen smiled."It's okay if he does."I looked at Alina."See?"She rolled her eyes.For ten minutes, the appointment was ordinary.That surprised me.They discussed sleep, reflux, fetal movement, and whether Alina had received a vaccine Dr. Chen recommended during pregnancy.There were no dramatic revelations.No alarm.No clinic scandal.Just a doctor reminding my wife to drink more water and wear compression socks if standing for long periods.I found the normality almost unbearable.At one point Dr. Chen asked, "Any contractions?""I don't think so.""You'll know."Alina made a face."That's what everyone says.""It's annoyingly true."Then Dr. Chen's expression became more serious."I did also receive the note from reproductive endocrinology."The room changed.Alina straightened."Okay.""They've kept me informed only about what directly affects your prenatal care.""Do you know anything new?""Not about the investigation."My shoulders loosened and tightened at the same time."But I want to be clear about one thing."Dr. Chen looked directly at Alina."From my standpoint, none of the uncertainty changes how we care for you or the baby right now."Alina nodded."We continue routine monitoring unless there's a medical reason not to.""What about after birth?"I asked.Dr. Chen paused."That depends on what the genetic testing shows and whether additional testing is recommended.""Would he need anything different medically if he's not genetically related to us?""Potentially, but only in the sense that family medical history might be unavailable or incomplete."I had not considered that.Alina had.I could tell from the way she looked down."That's one of the things I'm worried about," she said.Dr. Chen's voice softened."Understandably.""What if we don't know before he's born?""We document what we know and what we don't."There was no comforting lie in her answer.I liked her for that."Could the clinic identify the genetic parents later?"I asked."If the embryo came from another patient, that would be a matter for the clinic, attorneys, genetic testing, and consent issues.""Meaning yes?""Meaning it may be possible.""But complicated.""Very."Alina rubbed her thumb against the edge of the table.Dr. Chen noticed."How are you sleeping?""Badly.""Because you're uncomfortable or because your mind won't stop?""Both.""Are you talking to anyone?"Alina looked toward the screen."I have people.""That's not what I asked."I kept my mouth shut.Alina noticed that too."I haven't found a therapist yet.""I can send you referrals not connected to the fertility clinic.""That would help."Dr. Chen looked at me."And you should probably consider support as well."I almost laughed."Me?""You are sitting there like you're preparing for a deposition."Alina covered her mouth.I looked at Dr. Chen."I've met lawyers all morning.""That explains some of it."For the first time all day, I felt embarrassed in an ordinary way.It was almost refreshing.The appointment ended with instructions for Alina to come in sooner if her blood pressure increased or if fetal movement decreased.Dr. Chen scheduled an in-person visit for the following week.When the screen went dark, neither of us moved."She's funny," I said."She terrifies residents.""I like her more now."Alina closed the laptop."You asked good questions."The compliment unsettled me."Thanks.""I mean it.""I heard you.""No, I know, I just..."She stopped."What?""Nothing."I waited.She looked toward the sink."I used to wish you'd come to more appointments."There it was.Not accusation exactly.Worse.History."I came to appointments.""You came to fertility appointments.""Those count.""Yes.""But?"She shrugged."After a while, you started scheduling calls during them."I remembered standing in clinic hallways answering work emails while Alina had blood drawn.At the time I had called it multitasking."I was trying to keep my job.""I know.""Things were bad at work.""I know.""They were laying people off.""Marcus, I'm not accusing you.""It sounds like you are."Her face closed slightly.And there I was again, defending myself against something she had not actually attacked.I looked at the table."Sorry."She got up and filled a glass with water."I don't need you to apologize for every bad memory today.""That's convenient because we'd be here until Thursday."She almost smiled.I stood."You said I could see the room."She drank half the glass."I did.""If you've changed your mind...""No."She set the glass down."Come on."I followed her upstairs.The second floor looked less changed than downstairs.Our wedding photograph was gone from the hallway.That was the first thing I noticed.I tried not to look for it.I failed.The empty spot on the wall had been covered with a small framed print of wildflowers."Where is it?"Alina knew what I meant."In the closet.""You didn't throw it away.""No."I nodded.That answer mattered more than I wanted it to.She opened the door to my former office.The desk was gone.So was the bookcase I had built badly enough that it leaned left.In their place stood a white crib still inside a long cardboard box.A changing table was half assembled near the window.One drawer sat crooked.I stared at it."Who built that?""My sister.""It's wrong.""She knows.""The rail is upside down.""She knows.""And the drawer bracket...""Marcus.""Sorry."She leaned against the doorframe."You can fix it if it's physically painful for you.""I might."There were paint samples taped to the wall.Soft gray.Blue.Something almost green.I walked over."Which one?""I haven't decided.""The green.""You hate green.""I hate mint green.""That's green.""That's sage."She stared at me."When did you become a paint expert?""When you made me repaint the downstairs bathroom three times.""You picked hospital beige.""It was sand.""It was despair."I laughed.So did she.Then my eyes landed on a small wooden box on the windowsill.I knew it immediately.I stopped breathing.Alina followed my gaze.The white envelope from years ago lay inside it.The ultrasound picture from the pregnancy we lost.She did not move toward it.Neither did I."You kept it.""Yes.""I thought...""What?""I don't know what I thought."She came farther into the room."I almost threw it away once.""When?""After you left."My chest tightened."What stopped you?""I couldn't."I looked at the envelope.For years, I had convinced myself that not talking about that pregnancy had protected us.The truth was uglier.I had not known what to say, so I had said nothing.Alina had cried in the shower because she thought the water hid the sound.I knew.I had known every time.I never opened the bathroom door.Not once."I was terrible after we lost her."Alina's face changed."You thought it was a girl?""I don't know.""We never found out.""I know."She studied me."You never said that.""I never said much.""No."There was no cruelty in it.That made it harder.I stepped closer to the box but did not touch it."I thought if I acted normal, eventually we'd be normal.""I know.""You knew?""I was married to you."That almost made me smile."I didn't know how to help you.""You could've let me see you hurt."I looked at her.The sentence landed somewhere I had spent years avoiding."I did hurt.""I know that now.""How?""Because you became impossible."I laughed despite myself.She did too, but tears had appeared in her eyes."You reorganized the garage at two in the morning.""I couldn't sleep.""You labeled extension cords.""They needed labels.""We owned three.""Different lengths."She shook her head.I sat on the unopened crib box.After a moment, she sat on the windowsill beside the wooden box."I was angry at you for years.""I know.""No, I don't think you did.""Why?""Because you never mentioned the miscarriage again."My throat tightened."I thought you didn't want to.""I wanted you to say her."I looked up."Her?""The baby."She wiped beneath one eye."You always said it."I closed my eyes.That sounded exactly like me.Clinical language.Protective language.Language designed to keep grief from becoming a person."I was scared if I called her a baby, I wouldn't recover.""Did it work?"I opened my eyes."No."She nodded."Me neither."We stayed there quietly.A truck backed up somewhere outside, beeping three times.A dog barked next door.The radiator clicked.No one said anything for almost a minute.Then I pointed toward the changing table."That drawer is bothering me."Alina laughed through her tears."I knew it would.""Do you have a screwdriver?""Your tools are still in the garage.""All of them?""I threw away the broken tape measure.""That was not broken.""It wouldn't retract.""You had to tilt it.""Marcus, that's broken."I stood."Fine."I went downstairs and found the red toolbox exactly where I had left it.Dust covered the handle.That hurt too.I carried it upstairs.The drawer took fifteen minutes to fix because my sister-in-law had stripped one screw.Alina sat on the floor sorting tiny clothes while I worked."These can't be real," I said, holding up a sock smaller than my palm."They're real.""What human foot fits in this?""A baby foot.""Unconvincing."She took it from me."You'll see."The words escaped naturally.Then we both heard them.You'll see.Her hand stopped over the pile of clothes.I looked down at the screwdriver.Neither of us corrected her.My phone rang.Dana.I checked the time.One forty-eight."I need to go."Alina nodded."Your meeting.""With Dana.""I know."I closed the toolbox.At the doorway, I looked back."Can I come to the appointment next week?"She stared at me for several seconds."I don't know.""Okay.""I mean, I need to think about it.""That's fair."I started downstairs."Marcus."I turned.She stood with one hand resting on the crib box."If the test says he's not genetically ours..."I waited.Her voice grew quieter."What happens then?"The easy answer came to my mouth again.This time I did not use it."I don't know."Her eyes dropped."But I want to know what happens before I decide what I do."She looked back at me.That was not a promise.It was not forgiveness.It was not even particularly noble.It was simply the first time in months that I had chosen not to run from something because I was afraid of the answer.My phone buzzed again.Dana.I headed downstairs.At the front door, I stopped beside the stack of baby books.One had a yellow duck on the cover.I picked it up, read the back, then put it down."Take it," Alina called from upstairs."What?""The book.""Why?""Because you've apparently missed seven months of required reading."I looked toward the staircase."Is there a test?""Clearly."I tucked the book under my arm.When I reached Dana's office twenty minutes later, she was standing behind her desk with a printed copy of the clinic letter in one hand.She did not invite me to sit."Marcus, we have a larger problem than I thought."I closed the door behind me."What happened?"Dana put the letter on the desk."I contacted counsel who handled the clinic's previous regulatory matter.""And?""The record-retention investigation was not the only issue."My grip tightened around the children's book."What was?"She looked at the yellow duck under my arm, then back at me."Three years ago, an embryologist reported concerns about mislabeled storage canisters."
