“Let me take a spot film,” Dr. Tolentino said. “I think I can just make out the dead ends of the tubes here and here.” He was pointing at the screen with a pencil.

“Okay,” Dr. Carpenter said. He then told Marissa they were going to take an X-ray and for her to stay still.

“What’s wrong?” Marissa asked with concern. But Dr. Carpenter ignored her or didn’t hear. All three people disappeared behind the screen. Marissa looked up at the huge machine suspended over her.

“Don’t move,” Dr. Tolentino called out.

Marissa heard a click and a slight buzz. She knew that her body had just been bombarded by millions of tiny X-rays.

“We are going to try again,” Dr. Carpenter said as he returned. “This might hurt a little more.”

Marissa gripped the sides of the X-ray table.

The pain that followed was the worst she’d ever experienced. It was like a knife thrust into her lower back and twisted. When it was over she looked at the three people grouped around the fluoroscopy screen.

“What did you find?” Marissa questioned. She could tell from Dr. Carpenter’s face that something was abnormal.

“At least we know now why you haven’t been making babies,” he said solemnly. “I couldn’t get dye into either of your tubes. And I really pushed—as you probably felt. Both of them seem to be sealed as tight as a drum.”

“How could that be?” Marissa asked with alarm.

Dr. Carpenter shrugged. “We’ll have to look into that. Probably you had some infection. You don’t remember anything, do you?”

“No!” Marissa said. “I don’t think so.”

“Sometimes we can find the cause of blocked tubes and sometimes we can’t,” Dr. Carpenter said. “Sometimes even a high fever as a child can damage them.” He shrugged and patted her on the arm. “We’ll look into it.”

“What’s the next step?” Marissa asked anxiously. She already felt guilty enough about being infertile. This puzzling discovery about her tubes made her wonder if she could have picked up anything from one of her former lovers. She had never been loose, not by any stretch of the imagination, but she’d had sex, especially with Roger. Could Roger have given her something? Marissa’s stomach was in knots.

“I’m not sure this is the time to talk about strategy,” Dr. Carpenter said. “But we’ll probably recommend a laparoscopy and perhaps even a biopsy. There’s always the chance that the problem is amenable to microsurgery. If that doesn’t work or isn’t feasible, there’s always in-vitro fertilization . . .”

“Marissa!” Robert called harshly, abruptly bringing Marissa back to the present.

She lifted her face. Robert was standing in front of her.

“What are you doing?” Robert asked, his frustration all too apparent. “I asked after you and the receptionist said you hadn’t even checked in.”