“What are your symptoms?” I asked gently.
Owen’s forehead crumpled. “What has this got to do with us conceiving?”
“Are you a doctor?” I asked.
His eyes narrowed. “No.”
“Then leave the medical investigations to me.” Violet’s teeth dug into the bottom of her lip. This poor girl. Her husband and his overbearing grandmother, AKA Mama Green, were railroading her. “Did your mother have any fertility issues?” I asked Violet.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. They died when I was six, and Mama Green took me in.”
Ugh. So all she had heard growing up was that her emotions were signs of a mental disorder. Wonderful. This wasn’t something I could undo in a thirty minute consult.
“I can do some primary investigations, but unless there is an obvious cause, I will have to insist on a referral to a specialist.” It also meant I could get Violet alone and check she wasn’t being hurt.
“Fine,” Owen snapped. “What do we need to do?”
I stood and opened a cupboard, finding a small plastic bottle. “If you could provide me a semen sample, please.”
He took the bottle with a frown. “Is it meant to all fit in there?”
Ugh, spare me. “Just a small sample. You can dispose of any spare.”
He stood and fiddled with his belt before pulling his penis out. What was he… He wasn’t seriously about to masturbate in front of a complete stranger, was he? It took everything in me not to slap my forehead. Instead, I pointed at the restroom. “Inthe bathroom, please, Mr. Green.” He shuffled off to the private room, closing the door behind him.
My gaze fell on Violet. “Are you safe?”
She blinked. “What do you mean? We don’t use condoms. That would defeat the point.”
Ugh. “Is anyone hurting you, either physically or emotionally?”
She shook her head. “No, never. Owen loves me.”
I’d heard that before. “Then why do you think you have hysteria? It’s an out-of-date term used to suppress women and their genuine concerns.”
“Sometimes I get angry.”
“Everyone gets angry, Violet.”
She squeezes her eyes closed. “But I shouted at him.”
That’s it? Shouting? Then every woman under this roof needed to be sectioned, including me. “That’s part of being human,” I explained. “We are a messy mix of emotions and complex wants and needs. It doesn’t make you mentally unstable; it makes you normal.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I am fine, other than my inability to give him a child.”
I passed her my card. “If you need me, any time, you call. Okay?”
She glared at the card with my personal number on it, hesitated, then snatched it before stuffing it in her purse. Good enough. Hopefully, what I’d said would penetrate soon.
The door flung open. That was what, two minutes? A new record. Owen swaggered out like he was God’s gift to women everywhere. Speaking of gifts, I needed to wrap that scarf. He dropped back into the seat and placed the damp sample bottle on my desk. Guess I was disinfecting it after this appointment.
I did a double-take at the jar. What the fuck was that? Why was it yellow and clear? Oh… oh wow. I snapped on a pairof plastic gloves and grabbed the full bottle. “This is what you release inside of Violet?” I checked, hoping it was a joke.
“Yes.”
They didn’t crack up laughing, so I had to assume he was being serious. But just in case Owen’s semen resembled something else, I decided to test it. I stood, taking the bottle with me to the sink and twisted the lid off the pot before dipping a tiny strip of paper inside. Yup. As I thought.
I deposited the sample and my gloves in the clinical waste bin before scrubbing my hands clean. Twice. Time to break the good news to the happy couple.
