“Yes, it is,” he said as he washed his hands at the tiny sink and ripped out too many paper towels. He lowered his glasses halfway down his nose. “You are here for artificial insemination, eh?”

I didn’t know what kind of accent he had, but it was thick. “Yes,” I said. I pressed my knees together, and we both pretended I was fully dressed.

“Do you have any questions for me?” He peered over the top of his black-framed glasses.

“Not really,” I said. “I’m here to get pregnant.”

He chuckled and must have decided that I should have asked a few questions, because he answered them. He described the procedure for using either a cap or a syringe to place the sperm on and near the cervix. He talked about the alternative, which was to use a catheter going into the uterus. Before we decided, he said he’d take a peek and see which method he would recommend for my body. Either way, I was not to move much afterward and should limit my activity. Did I understand? I did. “May I examine you now?” he asked.

“Yes.”

The doctor scooted his rolling stool toward my legs and positioned a bright light to shine between them. He lifted the blue paper and folded it back a bit so he could see. I felt the heat of the light on my vagina and heard Dr. Salovich snapping the rubber gloves on his hands. His eyes appeared over the top of the paper sheet.

“All right,” he said as he reached over to his side table, “this may be somewhat cold,” and he inserted the speculum. It was. “Some pressure now,” he said as he cranked it open. It hurt. “I’m looking,” he mumbled.

I held my breath during this part. After about thirty long seconds, he released the speculum and slid it out. I exhaled and relaxed. Covering me with the paper sheet, he moved the lamp away and said, “We’re gonna try the syringe.”

“Okay,” I said from the pillow. One of the ceiling tiles had a water stain.

“You’re not currently pregnant?” he asked, yanking off one rubber glove with a snap, then the other.

“No,” I said. “But they took a blood test to be sure.”

“Good.”

For a second, I thought I heard Hal’s voice in the hallway. Could he just now be arriving? Walking by my exam room? I wanted to shout hello to him, and I hoped he might stop in, since this was the big day. Here we were, doing it.

“Everything’s ready,” said the doctor, “except the sperm, of course.” He chuckled as he took off his glasses and wiped the lenses clean with a tissue.

“Yeah.” I laughed at the joke, but he could probably tell I was faking.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” he said.