Fertility
They entered the office carefully, holding invisible zones around their stomach, which had been flensed and tenderized as if for a meal, saying oh yes, they were fine, fine. After submitting to the temperature check they reminded themselves to pick a seat on the left side of the waiting room so they wouldn’t need to forget and re-avert their eyes every few seconds from the enormous picture of the smiling white woman with honey-colored hair and a baby plastered on the outdoor window facing the room. The seating area for the doctor had a pair of blown-up black and white baby photos on the right, so they tried to sit on the right to avoid looking directly at them, but would then be facing them again from the stirrups. The blood-drawing room—a closet really—was also wallpapered in babies.
The doctor always wore her hair down, even during the exam, and five or so gold rings, some inlaid with diamonds, were arrayed across her hands. She spoke in a soothing voice and didn’t seem to appreciate questions, which she answered soothingly anyway. Today the wallbabies were fuzzy because they had to leave their glasses off, what with the mask fog and all. They were ready to take the eggs, the doctor said. She sounded personally elated, even though she probably said this every day to other people. They would do the procedure—so simple, really, very convenient—in the hospital a couple days hence. If all went as planned, there would be a fertilization and another simple easy hospital procedure, perhaps in a week or maybe in a hundred years, whatever happened first.
In spite of their dread of everything, not one but two bouncing, flouncing embryos formed, so there would be another trip to the hospital, more gut-wrenching described as “discomfort”. They weren’t sure what to feel because they knew it could still be undone, the life so new it might simply be unmade at any moment, so they decided not to think much about it for now.
They were on a gurney, having taken some anxiolytics and something that made them tired and they were busy not feeling, with their partner next to them, and the doctor, with her hair down and her rings, met them in the hallway and said they were going to take her to another facility. Something about the virus, how the other place was right nearby and they just needed to get in a vehicle and it would be no problem, no big deal, the arrangements had already been made. They weren’t paying much attention as the attendant wheeled them into an ambulance, and their partner sat down next to them. But then they stopped and they were…being pushed onto a plane? This seemed alarming, even in an abstracted state. Their partner was asking questions, but the doctor was with them again, telling them it was just temporary, just for now, just please keep moving so we can keep on schedule while the drugs are still in effect, so he did, he was quiet and stayed with them. The doctor put a mask on them, reassuring the partner it was a precaution, and they went to sleep.
They were in recovery, holding their partner’s hand, and the nurse propped up their bed. “We’d like to check in with you in a little bit, so sit tight and the doctor will be right with you.”
Ok, they drank something powdery and wondered if they were going to be pregnant now.
A woman in a white coat with black hair came into the room. She was wearing a transparent mask so they could see the set of her mouth and nose. “I’m here in Dr. A’s place. She was called in to be with another patient, but we wanted to talk to you about why we’re here.”
“What do you mean why I’m here?”
The doctor sat in the chair beside the bed and maintained that cool, authoritative posture they envied. Her eyes were blue. Colored contacts, they realized. Her jewelry was gold and subtle.
“You went to the hospital for an embryo implantation. What we have done, while you were asleep, was to cap your ovaries. We are sorry for not asking your permission, but we won’t allow the implantation.”
“‘Won’t allow’??” her partner stuttered.
“It is our policy to offer you a full refund on your treatment, including the analytical costs, but no, we won’t allow it.”
“Why?” the asked. They still felt abstracted from the drugs, and from willing themselves away. “We came to you to have a baby and the tests all came back good, the results, the doctor said they were fine. Why?”
“Why have a surgery just to say no?” asked her partner, usually cool but now unable to contain himself. He was sitting forward in his chair and they could see the thing he did with his jaw was starting to happen. They put their hand on his arm but felt no calm of their own.
The doctor, whose jacket was somehow perfectly fitted, almost fully suppressed the pursing of her lips.
“I’m sorry, I must say clearly that we deceived you. It was never our intention to help you to conceive, but to prevent you from doing so. You see, our group was formed to halt births.”
“This can’t be right. Who are you? Who sent you?” their partner was on his feet, and the doctor calmly stood up to meet him.
“We will explain everything,” she said holding up a placating palm. “But for now, they will need time to recover fully, and we have reserved a place for you both to stay for the time being, and tomorrow we will start again.”
“Wait, this was supposed to be done today, I’m on the morning shift tomorrow at work, I need an explanation now” said their partner.
“Oh, that has been taken care of. Please rest, for now.”
