Page 87 of Unrest
Tater and Rylen were right behind us as I pulled her hair back.
“I’ll get some paper towels,” Tater said. He ran to the bathroom down the hall.
While Remy got sick, gasping through moans, and my own stomach and mind turned, and turned, and turned, I felt Rylen watching me. His eyes were loaded with emotion and questions. Tater was back now, handing Remy a paper towel that she used to wipe her mouth. She sat back on her heels and covered her face. She trembled, but didn’t cry.
“We don’t know for sure,” I said, but Tops words ripped through me like a jagged knife. What if it were true? Remy would not be having children someday. And neither would I. Not that either of us was in any rush with the state of our world, but someday . . . who knows? The point was, they took that choice from us. They made us unable to repopulate.
“Maybe that’s not the shot you guys got,” Tater said, as he crouched beside Remy.
“God damn it,” First Sergeant muttered, his voice filled with anger. “I’m sorry to do this to you. I don’t know what this intel means. I don’t have any information on whether it’s something we can reverse.”
“We have two types of ultrasound machines,” came another voice from the doorway. The dentist.
Top looked at us apologetically. “I told Captain Ward about it and asked him to wait outside.”
“We can have a look,” the dentist said. “Run blood tests. If the two of you want.” He looked at Remy and me. She and I shared a glance and she gave a nod.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“You all go,” Top said. “Take the day off.”
He disappeared into the hall, and the four of us stood there like shells of ourselves. I didn’t want to think about this. I didn’t want to mourn people that didn’t even exist yet. I didn’t want to imagine the possibilities that were no longer mine to imagine. Rylen’s eyes were boring into me, but I couldn’t look up. Once upon a time I’d let myself imagine having babies with him. No, I couldn’t look at those eyes, knowing I could never mother his children. A shudder ripped through me as we left the room and moved down the hall.
Try as I may to ignore Rylen’s presence, he took my other hand in his and held it. He was warm, solid, steady. And he knew me. I didn’t have to admit how broken I felt at that moment, because I was certain Rylen knew.
We decided to go straight to the clinic rooms. I found the upright ultrasound machine, and the transvaginal ultrasound machine. A quick read through of manuals told me the transvaginal one was going to show us what we needed to see: a closeup of our ovaries.
Tater hitched a thumb toward the door. “I’ll wait out there.”
He and Rylen left us.
“Should we wait for the dentist?” she asked.
“Um, no. We’ll figure it out. I’m going to let you go first. You’ll lay back, and um, hold the device, you know . . . inside yourself.” Her eyebrows flew up skeptically, and I charged forward. “And I’ll tell you when to hold it still while I read the monitor. Team effort.”
“Okay,” she whispered. I turned to get everything ready as she took off her pants and got on the table, covering her hips with a towel. She waited patiently while I looked through manuals and books. I found a picture of what normal ovaries and fallopian tubes looked like. I stared at the tiny dots of follicles, or eggs. Then I took a deep breath and handed Remy the transducer probe with a glob of lube on the end.
She made a face and I sighed. “It’s going to send out sound waves that will bounce off your ovaries and give me a picture. Just try to relax. I won’t be looking at you; I’ll be watching the screen.”
“Do you know how to read that thing?”
“I’m a quick learner.” Honestly, people attended classes and schooling to become experts at reading these things. I had no idea if I’d be able to decipher it.
She lay back and exhaled loudly. I stared at the screen. Fuzzy images began to show. After five minutes of squinting at squiggly lines I was feeling frustrated with myself. So much for being a quick learner.
Voices in the hall distracted me, then a light knock. I got up and opened the door a crack.
“Are you using the probe?” Captain Ward asked.
I nodded. “It’s hard to read.”
“I actually borrowed one from the clinic during my wife’s two pregnancies,” he said sheepishly. “I know how to read it if you’d like.”
“Yes!” I pulled him into the room and shut the door. He came right over and sat in the stool by Remy’s knee, taking the monitor.
Within seconds he said, “It’s not in far enough. Do you mind? I’ll be gentle.”
“Okay,” Remy whispered.
He reached under the towel and Remy stared up at the ceiling. I stood beside her and took her hand.
One minute later the dentist went very still as he stared down. He looked up first to me, his eyebrows scrunched, then his eyes slid to Remy. We squeezed hands.
“Your ovaries are . . . not what they should be. They appear to have aged and shrunk. I’m sorry, Miss Haines. There are no eggs left.”
