Page 2 of Forever Christmas
“I knew I was nothing more to you than a hot lay.” He returns the smile, and I start to feel a little better. No matter what happens today, we’re in this together.
“It makes up for your terrible fashionsense,” I tell him.
He kicks his legs out, examining his work boots. There are oil smudges on his shirt, right under the little patch that reads “Gavin.”
“It’s weird for me to be the one on the table,” he says.
“Hopefully it will be me next,” I say, looking around at all the pictures.
“I thought we were going to wait,” he says. “Until you’re through grad school.”
“I know.” My eyes fall onone baby face, then another. That IS what we decided. To do the reversal surgery now, while we had the money, gifted to us from Tina’s artist friend in his will. And while Gavin was still young. By the time we could afford a child, his chance of a successful reversal would be lower.
Money is an issue. We are behind on everything. I finished my undergraduate degree without scholarship help andam up to my eyeballs in student loans. And I’m only halfway through my master’s degree. Gavin has to take classes slowly since he puts in so many hours at the garage.
I do have a teaching assistant position, which will help me achieve my dream of teaching college later on. But it doesn’t pay much. We’ll continue to get behind. Life is hard, but headed the right direction.
And now this.
Twoswift knocks on the door are followed by the doctor peering in. He’s the polar opposite of his nurse, all smiles and friendly handshakes. He is tall and lean, casual in jeans and a pale blue button-down beneath his open white lab coat.
“Gavin,” he says. “Good to see you. Sounds like your recovery went fine.”
“Used an ice pack or two, but things seem to be in working order.” Gavin flashes a glanceat me and even though I’m his wife, my face heats up.
“Good, good,” the doctor says. My mind is blanking on his name. It doesn’t matter. What he says is more important than who he is right now.
He pulls up a stool. “Let’s talk about the results of the sample you gave us last week.”
My face flames again. There are few things as awkward as helping your husband generate a sperm sample for a cup.
“We’re three months out, so we should start seeing swimmers in there,” the doctor says.
I’m bracing myself for the next part, where he says there aren’t any. I’m so sure he will say this that I actually hear it, so when the doctor goes on, I’m momentarily disoriented when his words don’t match my head.
“We are seeing activity now, which is good, really good.” He nods at both of us. “But thecount is low. Right on the cusp of what could reliably create a conception.”
Gavin lets out a long stream of air. “So what’s next?”
“We’ll retest in another three months,” he says. “Are you planning to conceive right away?”
“No,” Gavin says, then turns to me for confirmation. I nod. “Is there anything we can do to help it?”
“Not necessarily for the count, but if it stays low, certainly wecan wash the sperm, get the concentration up, and then do an insertion. It’s not unusual to need this after a reversal.”
Gavin’s eyes look like they are going to pop out of his head. “Who would insert it?”
The doctor chuckles. “Your wife’s obstetrician,” he says. “It’s a fairly simple procedure.”
“And expensive,” Gavin grumbles.
“Altering the path you chose early on isn’t easy,” the doctorsays. “I’m glad to see that we’ve made progress, though.” He stands and pats Gavin’s shoulder. “You two are young. You’ll get there.”
“Thank you,” I say.
He does another round of handshakes, then he’s out the door.
Gavin jumps off the table. “Not bad news,” he says.
“No, not the worst.”
He extends his hand, and I take it. It’s warm and strong and just holding it makes me feel better. Thisis Gavin, the boy I’ve known since I was a baby. Who crossed the alley behind our houses and slipped inside my fence from the time he could walk.
We’re on the path to undoing the damage he did when he was eighteen and angry at the world, screwing over fatherhood because it had screwed him.
We walk back down the hall, past the nurses’ station, to the checkout. While he makes his next appointment,I spot one more quote on the wall by the door.
Keep your face to the sunshine, and the shadows will fall behind you.
