Page 38 of Never Yours

Fuck!

There’s no one out here, how did they not see something coming for us?

No matter how many drills they put you through, various officers are shouting orders from fucking color-coded index cards. The moment I’m in the lifeboat I hop out of it and shout, “Who here has kids at home? And I mean I better see fucking photos.” Two seamen approach, these guys can’t be a day over twenty. “Photos.” They each retrieve pictures of them with their kids—one with a little boy, the other with two girls. “Get in.”

Daniels yells, “What the fuck are you doing?”

I think back to Ingrid telling me she lost our child. I won’t let another child go without a father if I can help it. So I help fill all of the boats with fathers first, and thankfully, this isn’t like some movie—there’s space for everyone. I get into one of the last boats, and it lowers into the murky, dark ocean. I feel like we’re sitting ducks out here, but I am reassured by everyone that there’s a ship on the way to us. I look back, finding our ship still floating. I don’t know how bad the damage is, but my instinct is to go back and fix it.

The motors carry us for miles until they nearly give out. From what I’ve gathered based purely on rumor, the sub we fixed glitched and set off a missile straight for us. I don’t believe a word of it but continue to nod as the story is told and retold to me.

A ship comes into view six hours later, and my hope is temporarily restored. But I won’t be able to rest until I’m home with my family around me.

Once we board, I’m interviewed by four different officers, each hoping for a different answer. I wish I had a better one to give. A story of being in a kitchen galley, then being hit by an alleged rogue missile isn’t the story people want to hear. So, I patiently await the official statement they expect me to share.

Not wanting us to mingle our stories, I’m essentially kept in solitary confinement until they deem me fit for somewhere else. They claim it’s not a holding cell, but there’s no other description for it. I’m allowed nothing—except pencil and paper. Choosing my words wisely, I write.

Ingrid,

I never expected these past few weeks to happen like they did. I don’t know when I’ll be able to see you again, but if this reaches you, please know that I’ll do everything I can to get back to you.

Always yours,

Caleb

I read and reread the note, ensuring there’s no way it could be construed as a secret message. If there’s any way they can get it to her, I might be able to sleep tonight.

I hand it to an officer, and they ask, “Who is Ingrid?”

“My wife,” I answer, matter-of-factly, even if the lie eats at me. I’m not under oath, so it shouldn’t come back to haunt me. I am just hoping that he takes pity on me.

“Your current address?”

I nod, and he leaves, but based on his tone my letter will never reach her.

ingrid

. . .

“You’re a little too early for a traditional ultrasound to confirm, but with your elevated HCG levels, it’s highly likely that you’re pregnant.”

Cass squeezes my hand and asks the doctor, “But it could mean that she’s not, right?”

“We can try a transvaginal ultrasound to see if anything comes up?” she offers.

“What’s that?” I ask, but I’m pretty sure she’ll be shoving something up my snatch.

“We’ll use an ultrasound wand. It’s a bit uncomfortable, but it will give us a better image if you’re only seven or eight weeks pregnant. It will also catch things like a blighted ovum, or other conditions that will give a positive pregnancy test without an active pregnancy.”

“Oh. Yes, let’s do that.” I nod nervously. “I need to know for sure.”

The doctor preps the wand, and as I place my feet in the stirrups, she has me breathe while pressing it inside me. It’s uncomfortable, but not any worse than a pap exam.

The screen looks like static until a large black spot appears. “That’s your uterus.” She moves the wand a little and points at the screen where a little static outline appears. “And that? Let’s see…” Using her computer she measures the small outline. “Just over a third of an inch. Seven and a half weeks feels accurate.” She clicks a few more times and finally says the words I’ve been expecting, “You’re definitely pregnant, and there’s a faint heartbeat, but that will be stronger in the next few weeks.”

I hold Cass’ hand tighter and whisper, “What am I going to do?”

Cass asks louder, “What are her options?”

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