Dad is busy through lunch so Mom and I go down to one of our favorite cafes.
As expected, she brings up the earlier conversation. "Sugar, why do you think you're the only virgin in your class?"
"Because I am," I shrug. "Except for Brick Welsh, who can't even breathe around girls, and Jessica Henderson, because she's a feminist lesbian who thinks sex is 'demoralizing'. So that's a fun group to be in."
Mom shakes her head and laughs. "I mean you. Why are you. Personally."
I shrug. "I don't think it's just 'nothing'. I can't justify doing that with just anybody. Plus you and Dad advocate relationships. And you're the only parents I know who are still together and faithful. You guys are still in love. Everyone else's parents are either divorced and slutty, or married, miserable and slutty. And what does that say about a person?" I sip my water.
"Why are you so damn smart?" Mom smiles.
"It's genetic," I reply, teasing her, and she laughs.
"I'm glad," she says. "I mean that you take it seriously. It's not something you want to end up regretting, or be ignorant about."
"I know," I say. "I told you. You guys can trust me."
"I know we can, sugar. It's just nice to hear."
After a moment I smile and say, "Besides, it has to be someone who's able to take a beating from you and a panic attack from Dad."Mom laughs and tosses a napkin at me.
When we get back to the office Dad is in Violet's office and through the window, he looks like he's fired up about something. Mom and I walk to the doorway.
"Cooper?" Mom asks, her brow furrowed.
"My patient? My 12-year-old, seventh-grade patient? She's pregnant," he says, pacing.
"Have you told them?" Mom asks, disturbed.
"Yes," Dad sighs. "They're in my office. 'Deciding'," he mocks.
"Deciding what? Which boarding school she'll be spending the rest of her life in?" I ask.
"I can't believe this," Dad says. "Twelve. When you were twelve all you cared about were books, puppies and soccer," he gestures to me. "How does this happen?"
"Every family is different, Cooper," Violet says. "You can't compare them. And like Kati said earlier, kids today aren't placing much importance on abstinence."
"She can't keep it," he says, his arms akimbo.
"You can't force an abortion, Cooper," Mom supplies.
"I mean adoption," he corrects himself. "It's not even safe for a twelve-year-old to give birth! It's not right!"
"Physically, there are definitely some risks. And her mother must realize that a twelve-year-old is not emotionally ready to be a parent," Mom adds.
"We can't direct," Violet reminds. "We can only guide."
Dad sighs. Mom brushes some hair behind my ear.
"Baby, why don't you go put your daddy's lunch in the fridge?" she says, handing me the sandwich we'd gotten for him. I do as she asks, glancing at Dad's pained face as I leave.
In the kitchen, Addison and Sam are discussing a couple that Addison is treating.
"They're best friends. Literally have been together since junior high. It's beautiful and all they want is a baby," Addison says, taking her lunch from the fridge.
I sit at the island and pull out a book of crossword puzzles.
"Well, let's hope that can happen," Sam says. The
couple obviously has troubles conceiving, otherwise Addison would be treating a pregnancy.
"Tests should be back soon," she says, and I follow her glance over to the her office where I see a couple smiling and talking to each other.
"They look really happy," I say.
"It's almost disgusting how much they love each other," she says.
"Why can't they get pregnant?" I ask.
"Some women just have trouble implanting. Some men have sperm that just doesn't...swim well."
"Maybe her uterus is bogus," I suggest. "Or maybe their fetuses always have crazy mutations, and she miscarries without even realizing! Like demon babies. Or harlequins!" I say, wide-eyed.
"I see you've been reading the books I lent you," she stares at me.
I shrug."That, and Dad and I just watched a documentary on Chernobyl kids. Deformities are fascinating."
Addison makes a face. "His idea of a bedtime story has gotten very grim."
"Hey, it's legit," I say. "The mutations I mean. Maybe their DNA just rejects each other. Hell, maybe they're cousins or something."
She laughs. "So. Summer plans?" She changes the subject.
I shrug. "Not really. Yale is offering some free online courses. I was looking at a molecular genetics class."
She looks unimpressed. "You don't want to go to the beach? Or go to Tahoe? Cabo? With your friends?"
"No," I answer, turning back to my crossword puzzle.
"Kati," she says gently, her hand on my forearm. "I bet they miss you. A lot."
I barely glance up, but then a nurse opens the door and brings Addison a file.
"Bradford results are in," she says and leaves."Alrighty," Addison sighs, opening the file. She starts reading and stops chewing abruptly.
"Cousins?" I say, teasing.
After a second she looks at me."They're brother and sister," she says, looking shocked.
I'm sitting on the other side of the island so I can face Addison's office as she goes in to speak to the Bradfords. Mom walks in and turns to see what I'm staring at.
"What?" she asks, standing beside me.
I have been fully aware and and respectful of the degree of confidentiality patients are promised. I have never told anyone, not even Jamie, the names or personal details of the patients that I've been privy to hearing about. I'm allowed to describe situations, but that's it. Jamie wasn't ever really interested in medical stories, anyways. Her plan had been to be a publicist. For Johnny Depp. Still, I'm allowed to reveal things to my parents.
"That couple in there, trying to figure out why they can't reproduce, are about to be told that the reason why is because they're brother and sister," I answer, and watch as her face takes on the same look of shock and disgust as mine and Addison's had.
We watch as the woman slowly looks horrified, and the man just stares.
"So they had no idea?"
"Nope," I answer. "Must be adopted. Or sperm donor babies."
"You think so?" She's still making a face. "What are the chances?" she asks as Dad walks in.
"Of me having another pregnant twelve-year-old patient in my lifetime?" he asks. "It better be none."
"No, of Hansel and Gretel in there being sperm donor babies," I answer, still watching Addison's office; Mom beside me with her hands on her hips.
"Wait, what?" Dad says, following our gaze. "The Bradfords? What about Hansel and Gretel?"
"Addison's test results say they're brother and sister. That's why they haven't been able to procreate," I reply.
"And they didn't know?" Dad's face gets the Look.
"Nope. So maybe they were separated. Or they're sperm donor babies."
"That would be the cruelest coincidence," Dad frowns. "How likely can that even be?"
"Well, how old are they? Thirty? Thirty-five? How many donor clinics were around in the 70s? I doubt it was such a common thing then. Makes the likelihood a lot higher," I guess, watching as Addison leaves her office and the devastated couple inside it.
"You are a genius," Dad says, staring at me.
"Damn straight," Mom agrees, as Addison walks in.
"So," I say, straight-faced. "Are Donny and Marie still up for a baby? With two heads?"
Addison gives me a look, rolling her eyes but stifling a smile. "I left them to talk for awhile," she rubs her forehead. "You were right, about the sperm donors. How does that even happen? Two women, strangers, using the same donor?"
"Well, Kati figured that out. Before all of us university graduates," Dad replies. "The probability would have been a lot higher back then, when sperm banks were relatively new."
Addison slowly gets an enlightened look. "Oh my god. You're right...that is one messed up coincidence."
"What are they gonna do now? They can't conceive," Mom points out. "They'll never be able to adopt. Or even stay married! How can they even look at each other?"
"Eugghh..." Dad makes a noise, shuddering as the couple kisses in Addison's office.
"Did they understand what 'brother and sister' meant?" I ask, all of us looking disturbed.
"They've been together since they were thirteen," Addison sighs. "They love each other. How do you just alter your heart?"
"By realizing that you share DNA," I reply quietly.
But we all sigh, feeling sorry for every aspect of their situation.
A few hours later, after reading all of my magazines, Addison comes to the kitchen to make tea.
"They're back," she says. Dad, Sam and I look up. "They want to talk."
"Well," Sam says matter-of-factly. "You have the facts. Isn't it better to know? For them?"
"I can't even imagine the...what a disaster," Dad shakes his sighs and goes back to his office.
We nosily observe the silent conversation. The couple is holding hands and a few minutes into the conversation the guy says something loudly and Addison and the woman looked shocked. More shocked, I mean. They say a few more things and then the woman bursts out of the office, following quickly by her brother-husband and Addison. With the door open, we can hear the entire exchange in the hallway.
"You knew!" the woman cries. "You knew and you still..." She looks horrified.
"We have the same feet," he says, defeated, his hands falling to his sides. "We're allergic to the same things...we're the same. I knew it was weird, so I looked into it. Before the wedding. But it didn't change anything!"
"It changes everything!" she yells. "We're brother and sister!" She starts to cry, as though she's finally understanding it all.
"I love you," he says, stepping towards her. But she steps backwards.
"Don't touch me!" she screams. "Get away from me!"
The entire thing is sad, despite how disturbing it is. I hate watching Dell lead the husband away as Addison tries to comfort the couple.
Donny and Marie, as Dad has decided to call them, are our topic of conversation on the way home. It's crazy stuff like this that my parents deal with at work, so bringing humor and lightness into it is important. I try to play a role in the conversation, but as soon as I'm in the car, I become tense and spend most of my energy trying to focus on pointless magazine articles.
Getting home is like taking a breath. But I lasted almost nine hours out today. I'm not wearing sweat pants, my hair is not in a messy ponytail, and I have mascara on. Today can be considered a success, I suppose.
Nigel is waiting at the door for us and he's so excited to see me that he won't go pee outside unless I go outside too. So I stand outside with him in the sun. It's 6:30 and still brilliantly sunny out, so Dad wants to get Thai takeout and eat on the back balcony.
Mom goes to shower and I'm disgusted when Dad follows her into the bathroom, so I go change into some yoga pants and a clean shirt and take my laptop outside onto the balcony. I realize I haven't touched it in months. I open it up and feel a pang in my chest as the desktop image of Jamie and I fills the screen. I change it to one of Nigel and me. I'm still not ready to see her everywhere; she's already all over my room and inside my head constantly. I log into Facebook and am floored to see that I have 473 notifications.
There are a lot of photo tags, people having added and tagged pictures of Jamie, most of which I am in, too. When I click onto my profile I see that everyone I know as left a message on my wall. I had been so afraid that people would be mean. Maybe blame me, like I've been doing...maybe I always will. Instead, people leave loving messages. They miss me, they're glad I'm okay, I should call them back, return texts. I sit and read post after post, tears streaming down my face. I don't even hear Mom come out onto the balcony. She squeezes onto my chair beside me and reads along with me, rubbing my back
."I thought they'd all hate me," I whisper.
"Who could ever hate you, baby girl?" Mom says softly.
We read and must come across a post from Axel at the same time because we both laugh softly. His profile picture is one of him and me during a class trip to a paintball course. We both have paint all over us and have our "game faces" on, acting like we're gangsters or something, because we were the last two left on the field, beating the other team. I love the picture.
"Do you wanna go, sugar?" Mom asks, referring to Axel's post when he asked me to come to a party at his house.
I look at her, surprised."I'm not sure," I reply.
Mom gives me an understanding look and wipes her thumbs over my tears. Dad yells that the food is here, so we head inside to help him bring it outside.