“Not in Washington State,” Jill said. “Let me check the schedule.” She kept her voice soft, her tone neutral. Brooke held her breath as the younger woman typed and clicked her mouse a few times, all the while looking at her computer. “We actually could fit you in this afternoon,” she said, moving her eyes from the screen to Brooke’s face. “Does that work?”
Brooke nodded, pressing a closed fist against her mouth. It was the easiest option, the one least likely to make waves in her life. She wouldn’t have to tell Ryan. She could just get it over with. Nothing would have to change.
Jill eyed her, carefully. “There’s no rush,” she said. “You have some time to think about it, if you want to take a few days.”
“No,” Brooke said. “I want to do it now.”
“Okay,” Jill said, and then turned to type on her keyboard once again. “Do you have any questions for me about the procedure?”
“No,” Brooke said. The less she knew, the better. She just wanted it done.
“There’s someone to drive you home?” Brooke nodded, even though it was a lie. But Jill didn’t have to know that. “You’ll need to get some labs done, and an ultrasound, so I’ll take you to a room and a technician will handle all of that.” She flipped through a few pages from Brooke’s file and raised her eyebrows. “You’ve listed ‘unknown’ for your family medical history.”
“Yes.” Brooke’s pulse pounded inside her head; there was no subject she hated more than that of family. She had told Ryan that she was an only child, that her parents lived in Florida, and they were estranged. Lying to him—to everyone, really—was so much less painful than speaking the truth. She had wondered what it would be like to open up, to tell Ryan about her mother and the sister she’d lost along the way, about the foster homes she’d lived in, and the life she’d learned to tolerate at Hillcrest. She imagined saying the words “My mother decided she didn’t want me when I was four years old, so she gave me away,” and the physical reaction she had—her head spun and her throat closed as though she were choking on something hard and sharp—was so violent, she knew it was better to keep her mouth shut.
But now, sitting across from Jill, she decided to be honest, in the hope that it might put a quick end to the discussion. “My mother gave custody of me to the state when I was four. I have no clue about my father.” Brooke’s cheeks flamed, as though her past was something to be ashamed of. She hated that she had this reaction; if anyone should be plagued by that particular emotion, it should be the woman who’d discarded her as though she were nothing.
“I understand,” Jill said, even though Brooke knew there was no way the younger woman understood anything of what Brooke had been through. “I understand” was just something people said to fill in a blank, when nothing else made sense.
“I have some more forms for you to read over,” Jill said. She pulled open a file drawer in her desk and riffled through it, setting a small stack of paper in front of Brooke. “I’ll give you a bit to review everything, then come take you back to an exam room.” She stood up, pressing her fingertips into her desk. “It’s going to be fine, Brooke. We’ll take good care of you.”
“Thanks,” Brooke said. Jill might have been young, but at least she was kind.
Brooke spent the next twenty minutes filling out the forms that described the procedure and then signed them to give her consent. She also read the detailed aftercare instructions, relieved to note that if she opted not to have the sedative, she should be okay to drive home. She wouldn’t even have to call in sick to work that night, if all went well. She’d pop some Advil and pretend the whole thing never happened.
She tried to relax the tight knot that had settled beneath her sternum with controlled breaths, only to have it spring claws and dig in deeper. She’d be fine, she thought, mentally repeating what Jill had said. It wouldn’t be easy, but she’d made it this far on her own. She’d make it through this, too.
As promised, Jill returned to her office and then led Brooke down a long, well-lit hall to an exam room. She put her hand on Brooke’s arm and gave it a short squeeze. “Feel free to give us a call any time, after,” she said. “We’re here to help.”
Brooke nodded as she bit the inside of her cheek, hard enough to taste a coppery drop of blood. After Jill left and she was alone, Brooke changed into a gown and sat on the edge of the exam table, her bare legs swinging. A woman came to take her blood, and after she had left, another woman entered and introduced herself as the ultrasound technician. She was significantly older than Brooke, a little top-heavy, wore no makeup, and her gray hair was cut in a sensible, short bob.
“I’m Linda,” the woman said in the crackling voice of a heavy-duty smoker. She confirmed Brooke’s name and date of birth. “This won’t take long. Can you lie back, with your head on the pillow, please?”