BooksBarbecue
Back Again, Rachel
Chapters (98)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. 82
  86. 83
  87. 84
  88. 85
  89. 86
  90. 87
  91. 88
  92. 89
  93. 90
  94. 91
  95. 92
  96. 93
  97. 94
  98. Acknowledgements

‘You sound like a dodgy insurance salesperson.’ He exhaled, long and loud. ‘Okay. On one condition. That you never use the word “sperm” again.’

‘Done. Do you think I like being this person?’

*

The afternoon of our appointment, as we arrived at the building in midtown, I was surprisingly nervous. All medical stuff was anxious-making, even if it was just a precautionary check. What if I was infertile? Or Luke was?

But we’d cope. It would be a shock, but we’d weather it. My faith in us was strong.

As we waited for the elevator to the doctor’s suite, Luke cut his eyes to me. ‘Peace of mind, you say?’

‘Peace of mind,’ I intoned. ‘For you and your family.’

After ringing the clinic’s bell, the door buzzed and we pushed it open—and the receptionist half rose behind her desk. Her glance flickered from Luke, to me, then back to Luke, his long hair, his leather jacket, his woven wristbands, the silver chain around his neck. For a moment I think she was considering calling security.

Who could blame her—the waiting room bristled with neatly pregnant women in bland Michael Kors dresses and Ferragamo flats, their accompanying menfolk in thousand-dollar suits.

Luke saw the receptionist’s concern. ‘It’s okay.’ His voice was gentle. ‘We have an appointment. And,’ he added, ‘insurance.’

I watched him smile at her; she stared, gave an abrupt half-giggle, then slowly flushed a deep red.

Clipboards and pens appeared for us to input our information. After a lengthy wait, we were ushered into the presence of Dr Solomon, a tiny woman with lots of curly hair.

‘You don’t plan to get pregnant just yet?’ She speed-read our forms.

‘Not right now.’ I sat up straight. ‘But if there were any issues, that might change things.’

She flicked back to my form. ‘You’re, hmmm…almost thirty-one? And Luke…?’

‘Same,’ he said.

‘We’re late starters.’ Defensively I wanted to blurt out our convoluted story and to reassure her that Luke and I were very together. We just moved in with each other. In twenty months he’ll be a Certified Public Accountant—I know, you wouldn’t think it to look at him, but a steady heart beats inside that sexy exterior. I’m doing a degree in Addiction Counselling, plus both of us are working full time. Once we’re qualified, our student loans must be repaid, then we want to buy a place to live. All of that needs to be tidied away before we can even think about having a baby.

‘It’s okay,’ Dr Solomon said. ‘Thirty-one is not old, not these days. If everything is in order, you’ve got plenty of time. So!’ She clapped her hands and a nurse entered the room. ‘Rachel, while you have your scan, Tomaka will take Luke for his semen extraction.’

Luke shot me an anguished WTF look.