Page 52 of Soul

Her lips purse into a flat line. “Wish I were. It’s very degrading, but at least Dana requested a female doctor.”

The thought of her naked, even in a medical capacity and her legs spread, her ass hanging off the edge of the table, with another man’s face between her thighs has me grinding my teeth so hard the sound reverberates through my eardrums.

She grabs my hand and leans up for a kiss. I give her what she wants as the door to the room opens.

“Mrs. Davis, Mr. Davis,” I presume. I nod as the small Asian doctor shakes Gillian’s hand then mine introducing herself as Dr. Wong as she sticks her nose in a file. “I understand you have had a positive pregnancy test,” she looks up over the rim of her glasses.

“Six.” I provide.

One, sharp, black brow rises to a point. “You took six tests?”

We both nod neither of us commenting that by the time we’d figured out that all three tests we took first did in fact all come out positive, we thought it prudent to do three more. Okay, I found it prudent. Gillian just thought it was good fun.

“Okay,” the doctor said. “Lie back, bring your bottom to the edge, and put your feet in the stirrups. Gillian follows her directions aa the woman grabs a machine which has a keyboard and a giant wand attached to it. “When was your last period?” She asks while setting up the device that looks like a computer on a TV tray. Once she has it close, she walks around Gillian, blatantly opens the front of her gown and manipulates her breasts. She rubs them everywhere.

I clear my throat, and Gillian’s eyes cut to me. “Breast exam, babe,” she says like it’s perfectly normal to have a woman fondling her tits.

It obviously bothers me more than it bothers her. She then answers the doctor’s question. “I missed a full period, but there were extenuating circumstances. And I should have gotten my period again last week.”

The doctor’s eyes move to my wife’s. “Extenuating circumstances?” she queries, then palpitates her stomach in a way that looks rather rough. Gillian clasps my hand tight. She either doesn’t want to share this information with the doctor or she doesn’t like what the doctor is doing. On top of that, I know this moment is important to her. She wants this to be a happy occasion, and we’re both already filled with an enormous amount of anxiety over the fact that she was likely pregnant when she was drugged and kidnapped.

“Look Dr. Wong, my wife was kidnapped almost six weeks ago on our wedding day. She was drugged, beaten and held in a storm shelter for several days. We just found out that she’s pregnant and are desperately in need of your medical expertise to tell us that our unborn child is healthy and growing normally. She was tranquilized with Etorphine, given extremely high doses of antibiotics in the hospital and painkillers. Her medical files should have been faxed over by my assistant.”

The doctor’s cold gaze turns warm and concerned. I’m not sure if that’s a good sign or bad. “They were and now I understand why the drugs were there.” Then she walks around and stands between Gillian’s legs. She presses a dollop of what looks to be lubricant on her fingers then moves them between my wife’s thighs. Gillian’s entire body tenses, and I’m certain my eyes go wide.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I growl but Gillian stops me with a hand to my stomach. “Internal exam, Chase,” she says breathless. Obviously because a woman has her fingers in my wife’s fucking pussy!

“Mr. Davis, I assure you, I’m checking her cervix, ovaries, and womb for cysts or textural abnormalities.” She pulls her hand out. “Everything seems in order.”

I want to bark that I could have told her that everything was “in order” as I’m very intimate with it.

“Well, let’s take a look at the fetus, and I’ll know more about what we’re dealing with,” she gives a small smile, lifts up the giant wand-like tool that’s mysteriously covered in something achingly familiar to a condom. My eyes widen as she, the doctor, moves between her legs again. “You’re going to feel some pressure, and cold,” she warns. Gillian’s hand locks down on mine and her eyes close.

Then all of a sudden the TV-like device shows some static looking images. Then there’s a black circle with blobs in the center.

For what seems like the longest minutes of our lives, the doctor clicks a bunch of buttons, writes notes on Gillian’s file but has yet to grace us with any feedback on her condition.

I look down at my wife and tears are slipping from her closed eyes. “Baby, don’t cry. Does it hurt?” I can’t imagine how a dildo-esque object pushed into my body by a stranger would feel. I crush my hands into fists at my sides then deep breathe while lifting an arm to caress the top of her hand with my thumb, trying to sooth her.

She shakes her head. “It’s not that. I’m…I’m so scared,” she whispers, but the doctor who is focused on the screen finally realizes that living human beings are standing here, waiting to hear about the well-being of their child, while she efficiently makes notes.

“Sorry, Mrs. Davis.” She turns the screen and points. “You see this bubble?” We both nod. “That’s your baby. See that little flicker,” we both focus on the tiny spot of light that’s blinking.

“Yes,” we respond in unison.

“That’s the heartbeat.” She writes something more down on Gillian’s sheet.

I look closely at the screen as Gillian strangles my hand. I cast a glance in her direction and see her beautiful face filled with joy. She’s beaming so brightly it’s as if her entire face is luminescent, lit up from within. As though her soul has come to the surface and is sharing its warmth. It’s hard to look away, but I see something that I need clarified. “Dr. Wong, what’s that bubble and that little blinking,” I use my nail to show the spot away from the first bubble.

“Very observant, Mr. Davis.” I smile and it instantly falls off my face when she responds. “That’s your other baby.”

Now my hand is positively about to break in half. I try to yank it out of Gillian’s claw-like grasp to no avail. Her other hand comes up to her mouth and muffles a gasp sob combination.

The doctor looks from me then to Gillian and back. “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Davis. In approximately seven and a half months, you’re going to be the parents of fraternal twins.”

Twins. With that I back up a few steps, Gillian lets go of my hand and when my knees hit the chair I slump into it. “Twins.”

“Twins.” Gillian repeats her green eyes filled to the brim with fear. I stare into her eyes, her lovely pale face, the one I go to bed to, dream of at night, and have the blessed privilege of waking up to every morning. My wife. My wife, who’s pregnant with twins. My twins. Jesus Christ.

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