She held it up again, but now it was pink. “This,” she said. “It’s positive.” I woke each time in an ice-cold sweat.
For days, this dream haunted me—made me think about our plan and what if. Then I re-membered Aaron’s dad from way back and wondered if he had been happy when he had just the two kids—one girl and one boy—I forget their names. I wondered if he loved them? They were in their teens when Aaron was born, so then I wondered if that was why he had hated Aaron—because he had to start over—because he thought he was done, and he wasn’t.
I explained the dream to the doctor, explained it had been more than five years since the big V. I said, “Call me crazy, but I need to confirm it’s still working.” I said, “I really need to know.”
She smiled. “I don’t think you’re crazy,” she said. She handed me a plastic cup tucked inside a paper privacy bag and said, “We’ll need a sample.”