I wanted to scream at her, wanted to shove her against the wall and get in her face and call her every name in the book. She worked for these people? For the Department of Fertility? It made me physically ill to think of her standing by while woman after woman was subjected to tests and treatments and procedures without their consent. How could she justify being part of the machine that was taking away the rights of so many? It was despicable. Revolting.
When I didn’t reply, the nurse gave me what I was sure she thought was a reassuring smile. It came out as forced and placating. “I know it’s awkward, but it won’t be as bad as you think. I promise. I’ve been working with the Department of Fertility since I graduated nursing school three years ago, and I’ve seen plenty of women come through at this point. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not that. We’re just trying to continue the human race.”
Her bright smile made it impossible to keep my mouth shut.
“By using my body.”
Her smile wavered but didn’t fade completely. “By following the law.”
“The law created bymen.” I glared at her. “Some men twenty years ago saw the diminishing population and made a decision aboutmybody before I was even old enough to know what it meant to have a baby. And you think that’s fair? You think that’s how we should go about this?”
Her body stiffened, and every ounce of warmth leaked from her expression. “I think the needs of the many outweigh theneeds of the few. It just makes sense.”
“To people like you,” I spit out. Then, wanting to hurt her, said, “You know, barren women.”
I instantly regretted saying the words when her bronzed skin paled and her expression contorted, making her look almost like she’d been hit. I could remember with perfect clarity what it had felt like to witness my friends and classmates go in for their fertility checks. The elation and uncertainty of those who received positive results, the devastation of those who’d gotten negative. For most women, their entire futures hinged on that very first fertility check at the age of seventeen. It was also something I’d vowed to never use against another woman no matter the circumstance, and yet I’d just done it. I really had reached a low point in my life.
The nurse’s injured expression was quickly replaced by anger. “Well, aren’t you going to be a delight during this process?” She huffed, then mumbled to herself, “I swear, we get the worst patients. Maybe I should transfer.”
The lingering guilt wasn’t enough to keep me quiet. “Maybe you get awful patients because they’re here against their will.”
She narrowed her dark eyes and opened her mouth to say something else, but it was cut off by the ding that signaled we’d reached our destination. The elevator door slid open a second later, and the nurse let out an exaggerated huff and stormed past me.
Looked like we weren’t going to be lifelong friends. Oh, well.
I’d just stepped out of the elevator when she stomped past the front desk, throwing at the receptionist, “Have fun with this one.”
She disappeared through a frosted glass door a second later.
“Hi there!” the receptionist said in a much too chipper voice, a plastic smile on her ridiculously tanned face. “Welcome to the Department of Fertility! We’re so thankful for your sacrifice and look forward to creating a future for mankind with you.”
Her smile wasn’t the only fake thing about her. She was pushing fifty and the kind of thin that came from smoking too much and eating too little, with teeth so white they threatened to blind me and hair so blonde it was almost white.Her eyes, too, couldn’t be real because they were too blue. Not even in nature could you find anything that color, and they were much too wide. She also had fake breasts that strained against her pink scrub top and long French tipped nails that reminded me of talons. She would have looked more at home at a day spa for wealthy women than in a medical office.
When I said nothing, the receptionist blinked. “If I can just get your ID, I can get you checked in.”
“Yeah, sure.”
I dug in my bag as I approached the desk, my gaze bouncing from Department of Fertility Barbie to the waiting area. It was devoid of people and decorated in soft blues and greens, with live plants on every surface and in each corner, and a fish tank at the end of the room that took up almost the entire wall. Exotic sea life in all sizes and colors swam through the elaborate underwater scene, darting between plastic foliage and into one of several sunken ships. The bubbling of the filter was barely audible over the classical music floating from the overhead speakers, and the couches and chairs were oversized and plush and much nicer than any doctor’s office I’d ever been to.
When I glanced back at the receptionist, ID in hand, she was still smiling brightly. “It’s nice, isn’t it?” She gave a slight roll of her aqua eyes. “I mean, I’d like it more if they played better music, but beggars can’t be choosers. Am I right?” She beamed at me.
I passed her my ID. “Yeah.”
She wasn’t deterred by my lack of enthusiasm, and her smile remained plastered on her face as she typed my information into the tablet in front of her. “There you are!” She looked from the screen to me. “And one day early. The Department of Fertility thanks you.”
As she passed my ID back, I mumbled a halfhearted, “You’re welcome.”
“You can have a seat, and someone will be out to collect you shortly. While you’re waiting, can I get you anything to drink? We have both still and sparkling water, coffee, and tea. Only decaf, I’m afraid. Need to keep that body shipshape, you know?”
I shook my head, confused and caught off guard. This was all so strange.
“I’m good. Thanks.”
The smile tattooed on her face was so phony it made the hair on my arms stand on end. I quickly turned away, but the waiting room wasn’t much better because it was too lavish. Too fake. Staged. This was a government facility. Why was it so nice? What were they trying to hide? Something, I was sure of it, and I didn’t like it.
Four
The receptionist hadn’t exaggerated when she’d said someone would be out to get me shortly. I’d barely had time to shift through the small stack of magazines on the table – all healthy living and parenting themed – before someone stepped through the frosted glass door on the other side of the room and cleared her throat.
