Page 49 of Baby for Dr. Damaged

“Jackson and I are expecting,” I say, the words leaving me in a rush. “That’s what Dad’s really mad at. Maybe.”

I hope.

I know that our age difference really rubs him the wrong way, but I can’t change that. I want to think that Dad will get past it, and he’ll be able to just enjoy the fact that I’ve found someone. Even if I didn’t tell him what was going on sooner. Even if it's his friend, which I'm sure is the hardest pill to swallow.

Harris, surprised, asks, “You’re pregnant?”

I nod. “I am. And we ran some tests, to make sure that he was alright.”

“Is he?” Harris’s brows pinch with worry.

“No, but… I think that he will be. Harris, Margur’s disease is genetic. Do you remember the doctors telling you that?” I ask.

Harris nods. “Yeah. They said that the uncle of Mom’s who was in a wheelchair probably had it. Doctors just didn’t have a name for it back then.”

“And most of Mom’s family are—”

“Girls.”

“Right.” I nod. Mom has three sisters. She only has one uncle and two aunts; and they have daughters, too. Then, there’s Harris, the first boy to come along in a while on her side. “And I’m going to have a son.”

It takes a moment. The silence presses down on us. Harris finally asks, slowly, “So… He’s got the same thing as me?”

I nod. “He does. And we’re hoping that this treatment is going to make both of you healthy. I told Dad about it, the day that Jackson was over. He was furious that I already knew and hadn’t said anything.”

Harris says, “I mean, he punched your boyfriend. What did he expect?”

I laugh. “That’s exactly what I told him! I knew that he wasn’t going to handle any of it well, and I couldn’t deal with him being mad on top of everything else. Jackson and I had to focus on our work.”

“Yeah, but did he ask you yet?” Harris asks.

I tilt my head to the side, curious. “Ask me what?”

“I’m gonna take that as a no,” says Harris, looking embarrassed. “It’s fine. Just forget about it. Let’s go back to how Dad’s mad at you over the baby.”

“Oh no, mister, you know something,” I say, frowning. “No secrets.”

“You kept a whole baby a secret,” counters Harris. “A sick one, too!”

“That’s not the same,” I insist, but before I can actually wheedle the truth out of him, a nurse, Reba, comes out to fetch him.

“Are you ready?” Reba asks. She’s a big lady, tall and broad, in scrubs that are covered in rainbow carrots. Her straight black hair has been pulled out of her face with a hair tie that has black cat ears on it. We don’t work in the same ward, so I don’t actually know her but… God, I hope she’s nice.

“I’ll be right here waiting for you,” I promise. Family isn’t allowed into the treatment room.

Harris gives me a nervous smile. “Yeah. Wish me luck.”

Reba promises, “We’ll take good care of him, don’t worry.”

I do worry, actually, the whole time that I sit there in the waiting room, while he’s off getting treated. It builds up in the back of my chest, like someone pumping too much air into a balloon. I’m worried about whether the treatment is going to work, and what the side effects are going to be like. I’m worried about how much it’s going to help, and how quickly.

And I’m worried about what Harris said, too. He clearly hadn’t been expecting to hear about the baby, and he’d pushed Jackson into telling my dad something. Was it just that we were together? That would have made sense if he hadn’t also been expecting Jackson to ask me something.

It was a senseless thought to lose myself in, better than watching the clock, at least.

Still, by the time Reba pushes Harris and his wheelchair back into the waiting room, I’ve managed to turn myself into a bundle of nerves.

“Harris!” I jump to my feet.

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