Nine Months and Counting: P10

She discards her gloves in the metal trashcan by the door and walks out of the room, taking the blood sample with her.

            “You know, I’ve never understood why these rooms here are so dim,” Michelangelo comments, looking around the room.

            “Ambiance,” I suggest, grabbing a cotton ball and pressing it against my arm. I have an unnatural fear of bleeding to death.

            “Well, this is a fertility doctor,” he concedes, casting a sideways glance at me. I roll my eyes and ignore him.

            “Brynne, you need to talk to me. You’ve hardly said anything to me for the past week. What’s wrong?”

            I shrug. “I just don’t feel like talking.”

            He taps a finger against his now stubbly chin. He rarely shaves when he’s on leave. “Let’s see…minor weight gain, larger appetite, mood swings…I think you are pregnant.”

            I press my lips together so hard I feel them turning white. “What if I am?”

            “Then Ashely and Abel are going to be ecstatic, and they’ll pay for all the doctor visits, and throw you baby showers and all that.”

            I shake my head. “That’s not what I’m talking about. What about after I have their baby? After being pregnant for that long, everyone is going to want to see a baby, and I’m not going to have one. I’m no expert, but I don’t think that I can claim miscarriage at nine months.”

            “We can say it’s a stillborn. Dr. Jones can write us some phony death certificates, and we can have a small funeral with an empty casket. Anything else?” he asks.

            “Are they ever going to tell the baby about who its mom is?”

            He shrugs. “I don’t know. It’ll have DNA from all three of you, so technically, you and Ashely are both its mom.”

            “That’s really confusing.” I look down at my grey sweatpants and follow the curves of the letters that spell “Brooklyn” down my left leg. “I don’t want to get emotionally attached to the baby.”

            Michelangelo wraps an arm around me in a side hug. “I don’t either, but we’re going to have to accept the fact that we probably will. You’re going to be carrying it for nine months, and I’ll be helping you take care of it during that time. It’s going to be hard for both of us.”

            I quickly wipe away tears before they can fall. “I’m scared, Michelangelo.”

            He leans down so his eyes are level with mine. “I am, too, Brynne. This is something big and new. But we’ll get through it. You’re the strongest person I know. It’ll all be okay.”

            I give him a shaky smile and lean against his chest. He holds me there, and I hear the comforting sound of his heartbeat resonating through his body. We stay like that until we hear the door open. We both look at Dr. Jones expectantly.

            She closes the door and sighs.

The End

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