Dr. Morrow quickly raced around his desk and helped me sit up. He talked me through a breathing exercise until I had calmed enough to lean back in the chair and hear what he was saying.
“You’re not dying, Preston. You’re healthy, and you most definitely do not have cancer.”
Now I was confused. “Well then, why all the solemnity and seriousness? You scared me.”
The doctor stood up from the floor where he’d kneeled to help me through my panic attack and returned to his chair behind the desk. “I’m very sorry to have scared you. That was never my intention. But even though you’re not seriously ill, there is definitely something serious I have to tell you. Are you feeling better?”
I had lost my patience about twenty minutes ago, so against my normal nature, my hormones surged, and I yelled, “I’m freaking dandy, doctor. Just tell me what you need to tell me already!”
Dr. Morrow flinched a tad but then started talking.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Preston, but the meds didn’t work. And if they haven’t worked by now, they won’t, I’m sorry to say. There’s less than one in one hundred million chance that continuing to take the boosters will do anything other than make you miserable.”
I had no words, but my narrowed eyes and questioning wrinkles between my brows must have spoken for me.
“I know it’s confusing, but let me put it like this. You’ve got Early Onset Manopause. Your body has started the process of shutting down the reproductive part of its life cycle. No amount of boosting is going to make a difference at this point.”
With those words, the boulder that had dropped into my abdomen dissolved, and the only thing left was what I would feel there for the rest of my life, apparently—emptiness.
“So, no babies for me because my body is shutting down the baby factory early?”
Dr. Morrow finally let his professional mask slip, and his sadness soothed my soul a drop. “I’m so sorry, Preston. I truly am. You would have made an excellent father, but biology is a strange beast sometimes. If you’re interested in surrogates or adoption…”
I held up my hand and stopped his words. “I appreciate that, but I’m nowhere near ready to talk about other possibilities right now. I need to think.” I grew quiet, and God love him, he didn’t try to fill the silence. He just sat with me in the quiet room until I was ready to go on. “I can stop all the drugs now, I suppose.”
He nodded but didn’t break the silence. I would recommend this man to everyone I meet from now until eternity for his silence and understanding.
Standing, I turned toward the door to the hall and spoke in the direction of the opposite wall as I walked out. “Thank you, Dr. Morrow. I’ll see myself out.”
As I walked down the hall to the front and the reception area, I heard a buzz up ahead and a shuffle not long afterward. As I approached the reception desk, it was empty. He’d obviously called up and told them to give me space. He was now a saint, and no one could tell me otherwise. I went quietly through the door to reception and caught sight of more bulletin boards with family snapshots and crayon stick-figure families smiling under happy suns. The tears flowing down my cheeks made the sunny skies into yellow blobs, and the smiles were smudged and warped now. I’d wanted my own pictures on the fridge. I’d wanted the family and the sun and desperately wanted someone to share it with if I was being honest.
But that wasn’t for me. I was the boring British lit professor with sensible shoes, non-wrinkle khakis, and bow ties for special occasions. A family wasn’t for the likes of me.
2
JOE
The silence in my car after I turned off the engine was like the silence before the storm. I pulled in a deep breath. Letting it out slowly, I waited as long as possible, then let it out while taking my seatbelt off and opening my car door. I slammed the car door a little too loudly just to make myself happy. As soon as I stepped into the building before me, I’d have to be on my best behavior. Thank God I only had to come once a month. If it hadn’t been a stipulation of my trust, I’d have made an excuse and ducked out more often than not. This place had once been a happy place, but now it was just a burden that had to be borne.
As I walked up to the door, it was opened before I could even knock, and I was engulfed in a perfumed hug that was so familiar it almost made the visit worth it.
“Honey, I’m so glad you came.” I got a big squeeze, and then my face was engulfed in two soft, gentle hands moving my jaw from one side to the other for inspection. “Sweetheart, you look tired with all that scruff on your face. Why don’t you let me make you an appointment with Gloria for a facial and haircut? You can stay home for a day or two before you return, can’t you?”
I kissed my mother on the cheek, then wrapped my arm over her shoulder to lead her into the entry hall. “Mom, you know I like my scruff, and no, I can’t stay a few days right now, but I promise I’ll come and visit for Thanksgiving.”
She gave me a side-eye. “You always say that, and you never do, honey.”
I stopped walking and looked at her with a look I knew she was familiar with. “I come and visit, Mom. Don’t be dramatic.”
“I’m not being dramatic, and don’t give me that disapproving look of yours. I’m immune to that grimace and those brows, sir.” She sniffed, totally for dramatic effect. “Besides, I taught you that look, so how dare you try to use it on me.”
We both glanced toward the other, then busted out laughing. The sound echoed off the high ceilings of the entry and into the halls and rooms of our massive family home as we continued inside. In less than a minute, our laughter died as my father joined us in the living room. “You two sound like a pack of wild hyenas laughing like that.”
Mom just waved her hand at him, but I immediately stopped laughing and stiffened at the insult I heard in his tone. “It was nothing you’d find amusing, Father.”
“Yes, well.” He huffed and went to the bar to pour himself a drink. “Hello to you, too, Trip. It’s nice of you to finally grace us with your presence. Luncheon was an hour ago. Our guests were wondering why you weren’t here.”
I was baffled. Had I missed lunch? I looked down at my watch and realized it was slightly after one in the afternoon. Wasn’t that when we always had lunch?
