Page 134 of Conception
“You doin’ okay?” Branson asks, his voice lowered. “Both of you, I mean.”
I glance between the two of them. Cohen runs a hand through his unruly blond hair. Now that Branson mentions it, Cohen’s exhausted. Ever since he started medical school, that’s par for the course. This, however, is something different. There’s defeat on his face, which is unnerving, as his usual, perpetual expression is goofy and happy.
“Am I missing something?” I ask.
Without a word, Cohen moves to a corner of the backyard. Branson and I follow. He glances around then leans in towards us, his voice lowered.
“I didn’t really want to get into it here, but since Bran brought it up…”
“Sorry, bro, but I’m worried about you.”
“Can one of you tell me what the hell is going on?” I insist.
“So you know how Andi and I’ve always said we don’t want kids? We’re happy being aunt and uncle to yours?”
I nod, glancing back at Andi then to my brother. “Wait, is Andi—”
He cuts me off with a shake of his head. “Not exactly. I mean, no, not at all. Long story short, because one, I don’t want to dwell on this tonight, and two, because I don’t think I’ve really had the time to let it all sink in: We had a scare. For about a week, Andi thought she was pregnant. Turns out she wasn’t. When she went to her doctor for a checkup, her blood work came back wonky, for lack of a better term. We’ve been referred to a reproductive endocrinologist. Even if we don’t want kids, her doctor recommends we make an appointment to determine the cause of her abnormal blood results. The thing is…”
“The scare’s making you question your previous mandate of no kids,” I guess.
He snaps his fingers. “Precisely. I’ve always been blasé about it. Never really thought of it either way. Since Andi didn’t want them, I was cool with it. The way you two keep cranking them out’s gonna keep me busy enough.”
I elbow Branson. “You guys better hurry up with number four.”
He groans. “We just got Andrew out of diapers, man. Don’t put that bad ju-ju on me.”
Cohen chimes back in. “I don’t know if that’s going to be good enough for Andi. I find her gaze lingering on babies at the grocery store. The other day, she picked up an outfit and asked me if I thought it was cute. Sure, a panda eating bamboo on a onesie is adorable.” He rolls his eyes. “I won’t be upset if Andi changes her minds about kids. I’m perfectly happy with it. Hell, I think I’d make a great dad. What worries me is going to a doctor and finding out that we have problems and we won’t be able to. What if it’s a case of wanting what you can never have? What if it’s not and she can’t ever have the one thing she never knew she wanted?”
“You’re getting way too ahead of yourself, Coh,” I tell him. “You can’t dwell on any of that when you haven’t even made a doctor’s appointment. My advice? Do it. Not just to know about the possibility of a future pregnancy, but to also make sure Andi’s all good. And let’s say there is a problem but Andi still wants kids. There are plenty of other options out there. Just…don’t think about that yet. Take it one day at a time. You worry too much and you’ll start to go gray like Branson.”
“Just as I’m about to compliment you, you turn asshole mode back on,” Branson quips.
I crack my knuckles. “Bran, I can only dole out so much touchy-feely stuff in one evening. You’re just unfortunately in my line of fire.”
Cohen completely ignores our banter. “You’re right, Knox. I can’t dwell. Hell, I’m a doctor. I know more than anyone that abnormal blood tests aren’t the end of the road. It could be something as simple as her not getting enough iron.” His chest heaves as he sighs. “Except an OB/GYN would’ve been able to correct that. You know what? I’m getting a copy of her chart. Check out the results myself.”
“No.” It’s more forceful than I intended. “You’re a surgeon, Cohen, not a baby or hormone doctor. You may be more keen on the medical mumbo jumbo than the rest of us, but looking this stuff up wouldn’t be that much different than when Charlie decides her headache means she has a brain tumor thanks to Google.”
“I fucking hate it when you’re right.”
Branson hooks an arm around Cohen’s shoulders. “You two are young. It’s nothing you have to decide now. Go to the doctor to figure everything out. If you change your mind, you’ll be one step closer to making it happen. If you don’t, at least Andi’s all sorted out. Seems to me you can’t go wrong here. Trust me, bro. You wanna get those hormones balanced.”
Cohen’s brow furrows. “I am a doctor, you know.”
“Sage advice,” I tell Branson, ignoring our little bro.
“I’ve had time to think about it,” Cohen says. “Not to mention conversations with Ari. What I just said? That was pretty much all her.”
“Speaking of, Cohen, you told Branson and not me?” I tease.
“Ari saw Andi coming out of her OB/GYN’s office and mentioned it to Branson. Who then asked me. I couldn’t lie. Hell, you know how nosy this family can be.”
Just as Branson’s about to retort, the sound of spoons against champagne flutes floats through the warm summer air.
“Saved by the bell,” Cohen mutters. He starts to move away, stopping when I place a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey. We’re here for you. Whether you want to talk about it or just drink it away. We got you, brother.”
