Embryo

The short story that sparked the idea for IGNITE THE SHADOWS.

“Give me your hand.” Jenna’s apprehension was apparent in her voice even though she tried to conceal it.

“It’ll be alright, honey,” her husband said, squeezing her hand.

“I know,” she squeaked, her own words of reassurance held little faith in them.

What’s the matter with me? Jenna thought. She’d been through this before. In fact, she was a pro. Better than any other woman in that waiting room, she was sure. Yet, none of them seemed nervous.

A door opened and a nurse wearing blue scrubs stepped out. “Susan Whiting,” she called.

The woman sitting next to Jenna stood. “About time,” she said under her breath.

As she walked in, though, she smiled at the nurse. The door closed behind them, and Jenna could hear them chitchatting enthusiastically. Her shoulders slumped.

She wished she could feel like that woman again. But all her excitement and anticipation had been crushed out of her.

Now, all she could do was fret with a sense of fatality.

“It’s been twenty minutes,” her husband said, looking at his watch. “Maybe, I should ask.”

“No,” Jenna snapped, tightening her grip on his hand. You’re not going anywhere, she almost added.

“What’s the matter?” He was looking into her eyes with that intensity that could always reach to the deepest corners of her soul.

“Nothing,” she lied.

“You know that doesn’t work on me.” It was true. She’d never been able to lie to him.
A younger couple sat across from them.

The woman was patting her belly absentmindedly. Her husband read a sports magazine, slouching on his chair. They seemed content. No apprehension or anxiety there.

Jenna’s husband followed her gaze and sighed. “Are you sure you want to do this?” His voice was but a whisper.

She looked into his hazel eyes and found that selfless understanding there, just like she always did. He wanted kids as much as she did and wanted to try one more time, but he would give up right there and then if she just said the word.

“Yes, Chris. I want to. It’s just…my heart breaks every time. It’s hard,” her voice went hoarse, and she looked around self-consciously.

For almost three years her heart had been breaking, month after month. She couldn’t even remember the last time she felt hopeful. In the last few months, it seemed as if they’d just been going through the motions because giving up was much harder than fighting a losing war.

“Jenna Bales,” a different voice called out. Jenna jumped when she heard her name and felt her heart drop to the floor. In the past, it would have swelled with anticipation, now it just drooped so low that it touched her feet.

“C’mon, baby. One last time,” Chris said, pulling her to her feet.

These were both the right and the wrong words to say. They managed to kindle the little courage still left in her. She could fight one last battle. She was strong enough for that. However, the words also stirred a sense of finality and loss. It would fail again just like the previous thirty times. Her knees buckled with the intensity of her hopelessness.

“I got you,” Chris said, holding her around the waist.

They’d both agreed this would be their last attempt. It was the right thing to do. It wasn’t healthy to continue living in such angst. Enough was enough.

“This way,” the nurse said, pointing toward the lab. “We’ll do your blood work first to make sure everything’s still on track.”

This was a routine that Jenna knew well. She even knew with ninety-nine percent certainty that everything would still be on track. All her blood levels would be within the ranges required for implanting the embryo.

After the lab, they went into a small room. A tall, narrow bed sat in the corner, lined with white paper. Stir ups stuck out from either side at the foot of the bed. Jenna hated it. She’d had dreams where she took a baseball bat and tore the thing to splinters. She climbed on the bed anyway, making the paper crinkle.

Chris came to stand by her side and took her hand. His lips curved and all the tenderness in the world warmed his eyes. Jenna smiled back. There was no other man in the world for whom and with whom she would go through this.

The wait was shorter than usual. There was a tap-tap at the door. They tensed up. This was it. Jenna’s heart started pounding. She knew it was silly to be so scared. It wasn’t as if her life depended on it, but it sure felt like it. The door opened and a man wearing a white lab coat walked in. Jenna and Chris exchanged worried glances but didn’t say anything.

“Good morning, Mr. and…” he looked down at the chart, “…Mrs. Bales. How are you today?”

“Fine,” they both answered uncertainly.

“I’m Dr. Dunn,” he said, extending a bony hand, first toward Chris and then Jenna.

She eyed his hand distrustfully but shook it. It was clammy and too small for a man.
“Where’s Doctor Edwards?” Jenna blurted out.

Chris gave her a suggestive glance that said “I know you’re nervous, but there’s no need to be rude, honey.” But she didn’t care. She trusted Dr. Edwards. He’d done almost every insemination and implantation since the beginning. This Dr. Dunn was a stranger, and already she wasn’t sure if she liked him.

“Dr. Edwards,” Dr. Dunn explained, flapping a set of thick, fleshy lips “couldn’t be here today. He’s…out of town.” He sounded irritated.

“How about Dr. Meyers?” Jenna pressed. The name of the clinic was Edwards & Meyers Fertility Associates after all. She’d never even heard of Dr. Dunn.

“Well, it is Sunday, Mrs. Bales, and I’m the physician on call for this type of procedure this weekend.” He was really annoyed now.
No. Jenna must definitely didn’t like him. She looked at Chris displeased. He had an uncanny ability to analyze her and seemed to have figured out her thoughts. Chris opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything Dr. Dunn pulled the chart close to his face and read.

“We have three beautiful and healthy embryos ready to be implanted.” His tone had changed. It was now subdued, almost conciliatory. “Your blood levels have never been this perfect. Maybe it will take nice, fresh hands to get this thing to finally work.” He placed the chart on a chair, stuck his small hands up in the air, and wiggled his Vienna sausage fingers. There was a peculiar smile on his face that for some reason made Jenna shudder.

“He has a point, hon,” Chris’s tone was almost pleading. His eyes were begging “Don’t be unreasonable, please.”
Was she looking for an excuse to call this off? Did she want to postpone the pain that calling-it-quits would bring? Maybe, she wasn’t as ready to give up as she’d thought. Still, she agreed for Chris’s sake.

“Okay,” she squeaked.

“Excellent,” said Dr. Dunn, rubbing his hands together as if he was about to set some Machiavellian plan in motion.
Jenna lay down and stared at the ceiling tiles. Maybe if she didn’t look at the man and pretended it was Dr. Edwards she could bear it more easily.

The nurse walked in, carrying a tray with the simple tools that would be needed. Jenna knew the proper names for everything and their order of appearance. First the cold, metal speculum (she’d called it forceps at first, but Chris told her the correct name), then the thin, long catheter containing the embryos, and finally the two weeks of anguish before they could find out if it had all worked.

She felt the man’s touch and her thigh and then the speculum went in. She cringed when the plastic tube scraped along the wall of her uterus as it was inserted. Her insides cramped, but that was normal. And just like that, it was all over. How silly to have been so afraid. It was all so quick and relatively painless. She turned her head to look at her husband. The doctor was already leaving, walking behind the nurse toward the door.

“All done,” he said, curling his fleshy lips into a twisted, satisfied grin.

He looked straight at Jenna and winked. Her heart skipped a beat and a repressed gasp hung at her lips. In the fraction of a second in which Dr. Dunn’s eye had shut and opened, Jenna saw a white membrane slid across his eyeball. Like a cat, she thought in horror. In an instant, it had retracted, making Jenna doubt her sanity.

“I think we have a winner,” Dr. Dunn said before he walked out. “Congratulations!”