My phone rang before we reached the end of the street.
Adrian.
I let it ring.
Then Evelyn.
Then Adrian again.
I turned the phone face down.
The fertility report had done exactly what I expected.
Two years earlier, the specialist had found no problem with me.
Adrian was the one with the diagnosis.
Severe non-obstructive azoospermia.
The doctor had explained it carefully.
Adrian had almost no chance of fathering a child naturally.Not low fertility.
Not reduced fertility.
Almost none.
He had refused to hear the rest.
He walked out of the clinic before the consultation ended.
In the parking lot, he told me never to mention it again.
He blamed stress.
He blamed the lab.
He blamed the doctor.
Then he blamed me for scheduling the appointment.
I had kept quiet because I loved him.
That was another mistake.
The car entered downtown Charlotte.
My phone vibrated constantly.
