Chương 2
She wore a cream-colored sweater over black leggings, and her blond hair was pulled into a loose knot.
Miriam kissed her cheek before greeting her.
Walter handed her the gift bag.
“You people didn’t have to bring anything.”
Naomi smiled as she opened it.
Inside was a tiny navy-blue sweater with three white buttons.
“Oh, Miriam.”
“Your first Reynolds outfit,” Miriam said.
Samantha took a picture.
Victor stood beside Naomi and rested his hand on her shoulder.
“Where’s the doctor?”
“Running behind.”
Walter sat down with the grunt of a sixty-eight-year-old man who refused to admit chairs had become important to him.
“So this is the big one?”
Naomi nodded.
“They’re doing measurements again.”
“And we get confirmation?”
Samantha asked.
Naomi laughed.
“Yes, Samantha, it’s still a boy.”
“Good.”
Walter pointed toward Victor.
“Your father would’ve enjoyed this.”
Victor smiled.
His grandfather had been dead nine years, but the Reynolds family still invoked him whenever the family name required historical importance.
The technician entered first and explained that she would perform the ultrasound before the physician came in.
Everyone became quiet when the image appeared on the monitor.
Victor took Naomi’s hand.
Miriam whispered something about the baby’s profile.
Walter leaned forward.
Samantha recorded a few seconds until the technician politely reminded her that clinic policy did not permit recording during the examination.
She lowered her phone.
The technician made measurements without commenting much.
At one point, she asked Naomi when her last menstrual period had been.
Naomi answered.
The technician looked at the chart.
Then she measured again.
Victor noticed the pause.
“Everything okay?”
“I’m going to let Dr. Shah discuss the measurements with you.”
Naomi squeezed his hand.
“That sounds ominous.”
“It isn’t necessarily.”
The technician smiled, but Samantha later said it was the careful smile people in medicine used when they had learned not to promise anything.
Dr. Shah arrived several minutes later.
She greeted Naomi, reviewed the images, and asked the family members to identify themselves.
Victor did so proudly.
“I’m the father.”
Dr. Shah nodded and returned to the monitor.
She checked one measurement.
Then another.
She opened Naomi’s chart.
“How certain are you about the date of your last menstrual period?”
Naomi gave the same date again.
“Very.”
“Were your cycles regular before the pregnancy?”
“Yes.”
“Approximately?”
“Twenty-eight days.”
Dr. Shah looked at the previous scan.
Victor shifted beside the table.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m trying to reconcile the dating.”
Naomi’s fingers tightened around his.
“What does that mean?”
“The fetal measurements are consistent with the gestational age documented here.”
Dr. Shah tapped the chart.
“That’s good.”
Miriam exhaled.
“So everything’s normal?”
“As far as the growth measurements we’re discussing, yes.”
The room relaxed slightly.
Then Dr. Shah looked at Naomi.
“I do need to clarify something in your history.”
Naomi went still.
“What?”
“You indicated that Victor is the biological father?”
Nobody moved.
Naomi gave a short laugh.
“Of course.”
Dr. Shah did not react to the laugh.
“Then I may have incorrect information in the chart.”
She turned the monitor slightly away and checked the dates again.
“What was the earliest possible date you and Victor could have conceived this pregnancy?”
Naomi’s face changed.
It was subtle enough that Walter missed it.
Samantha did not.
Victor answered first.
“Why does that matter?”
“Because the dating places conception within a window that appears inconsistent with the history I was given.”
Victor looked at Naomi.
“What history?”
Naomi swallowed.
“It’s probably just entered wrong.”
Dr. Shah glanced between them.
“That is entirely possible, which is why I’m asking rather than assuming.”
Victor’s hand slipped away from Naomi’s shoulder.
“Naomi.”
She stared at the ultrasound monitor.
“When?”
His voice had lost its irritation.
That frightened her more.
“When what?”
“When does she say the baby was conceived?”
Dr. Shah intervened.
“I can give you an estimated conception window, but ultrasound cannot establish paternity.”
“Give me the window.”
“Victor.”
He did not look at Naomi.
“Give me the window.”
Dr. Shah stated the approximate dates.
Samantha later said that was the moment the room changed.
Not when Naomi began crying.
Not when Miriam sat down.
Not even when Walter muttered, “That can’t be right.”
It changed when Victor stopped speaking.
Because the earliest date Dr. Shah gave was twenty-three days before Victor and Naomi had first slept together.
Naomi knew it.
Victor knew it.
And judging by the way Samantha slowly lowered her phone into her purse, she knew it too.
Victor finally turned toward Naomi.
“You told me there was nobody else.”
“There wasn’t.”
“Then explain twenty-three days.”
“Ultrasounds aren’t exact.”
“No,” Dr. Shah said carefully, “they are estimates.”
Naomi seized on that.
“Exactly.”
“But not typically by the amount you appear to need here,” Dr. Shah added.
Walter stood.
Miriam whispered, “Oh, God.”
Victor stared at the woman for whom he had just dismantled his marriage.
Then his phone vibrated in his pocket.
He pulled it out automatically.
The message was from Abigail.
Dad, are you still coming Saturday?
Victor stared at his daughter’s question while Naomi began saying his name.
He did not answer either of them.
At that same moment, I was standing in the kitchen of my rented apartment while Charlotte attempted to convince me that cereal counted as lunch.
“It has milk,” she argued.
“That doesn’t make it lunch.”
“It has grains.”
“You learned that word yesterday.”
“Still counts.”
Abigail sat at the counter pretending not to listen.
Her eyes kept moving toward my face.
I opened the refrigerator.
Almost nothing was inside except eggs, yogurt, half a cucumber, and the expensive orange juice Charlotte had persuaded me to buy because the bottle had a cartoon flamingo on it.
“We’re having eggs.”
Charlotte groaned.
“Divorce is terrible.”
“Charlotte.”
“What?”
Abigail hissed.
“You can’t say that.”
“Why?”
“Because Mom just got divorced.”
Charlotte considered this.
Then she looked at me with enormous seriousness.
“Sorry.”
I put the eggs on the counter.
“It’s okay.”
“Can we still have cereal?”
“No.”
May you like
She sighed.
“Then I’m still against divorce.”
