Emily clutched the test results in her fist, the paper damp with sweat. The corridor outside the women’s clinic was jammed, no room to move.
Emily Carter! shouted the nurse.
Emily rose, slipped into the consulting room. The doctora stout woman with tired eyestook the folder from her hands and flicked through the pages.
Sit down, she said, giving the results a detached glance.
Everything looks normal. Have your husband checked.
Emilys stomach went cold. James? But he
***
At home, Margaret Ellis was chopping cabbage for a stew, the knife flashing as if she were slashing at enemies.
So, darling, any news? she asked without looking up.
Im fine, Emily muttered, shedding her coat.
And why then Margaret finally lifted her eyes, a flash of worry in them. James needs a checkup.
The knife hung over the board. Margaret straightened like a taut string.
What nonsense! My son is perfectly healthy. Its your doctors who dont understand anything. In my day women gave birth without any tests.
Emily slipped into the living room. On the sofa lay two socksone blue, one black. She picked them up automatically and tossed them into the laundry basket. In three years of marriage those socks had become a symbol of their life: mismatched, never forming a pair.
James came home late.
Whats with the funeral face? he grumbled, flopping into his armchair.
James, we need to talk.
What about?
She handed him the papers. He skimmed them, then shoved them onto the coffee table.
And?
You need a checkup.
Why on earth? James leapt up, pacing the room. Im a healthy man! Look at me!
He did look the partbroad shoulders, dark hairbut health isnt always visible.
James, please
Enough! he snapped. If you dont want kids, just say so! Why all these theatrics with doctors?
From the kitchen came the clatter of slippers. Margaret lingered by the door, breathing so loudly you could hear each sigh.
I want children more than anything, Emily whispered.
Then why arent there any? Maybe youre hiding something? Abortions, perhaps?
The blow landed hard. Emily recoiled.
How could you?
How could I? Weve been married three yearszero results! And now some doctor tells me Im He stopped, clenching his fists.
The door burst open. Margaret stormed in like a tank.
James, dont listen to her! Its all laziness. If you worked more, you wouldnt be hopping from doctor to doctor.
Emily glanced at her husband. He turned toward the window.
James, do you really think I
I dont know what to think, he rasped. One thing I know: a healthy man doesnt go to the doctor.
Margaret nodded triumphantly.
Exactly, son. This isnt a mans businessrunning round hospitals.
Emily felt something snap inside, like a stretched string.
Fine, she said evenly.
The next day a war began. Margaret nagged at every little thingsalt overspilled, pot not washed, dust on the dresser. Emily kept her mouth shut, teeth clenched.
Maybe you shouldnt be staying at home at all? the motherinlaw snapped over dinner. Get a job instead of chasing doctors.
James chewed his meatball, eyes fixed on the plate.
I work, Emily reminded.
Three days a week isnt work, its a hobby.
What does my work have to do with this?
Because my sons fine, and youre trying to make him look ill! When there are no children, the womans at fault! It always was!
Emily rose from the table, legs trembling.
Whats wrong with you? Margaret asked, surprised. You ate and now youre fleeing?
Im tired, Emily whispered.
Tired? From what? You only work three days a weekwhat load is that?
James finally looked up, a flicker of pity in his eyes, but said nothing.
That night Emily lay awake listening to Jamess snore. It used to be soothing, a sign of a loved one nearby. Now it grated, reminding her of his stubbornness.
In the morning she packed a few things into an old sports backpacktwo dresses, some underwear, a makeup bag.
Where are you off to? Margaret asked from the kitchen doorway, cup in hand.
To my mothers.
For long?
I dont know.
James emerged from the bathroom, spotted the backpack.
Emily, whats that?
What you see.
You serious?
Of course. You wont get tested, your mother blames me for everything. Why stay?
He stepped closer, voice low.
Dont be daft. Where will you go?
To Grandma Doriss.
To that cramped flat? Its only a few minutes away!
Tiny, but Im not offended.
Margaret huffed.
Fine, let her go. Shell learn how good it was for her here.
James shot his mother a angry glance but said nothing.
Emily hoisted the backpack and headed for the door.
Emily! James called.
She turned. He stood in the hallway, hair damp from his shower, looking lost.
When will you be back?
When you finally see a doctor.
The door slammed shut behind her.
Grandma Doris gasped at the sight of her granddaughter with a backpack.
Emily! Whats happened?
Had a fight with James. Can I stay here?
Of course, love. Its a bit cramped
Its all right, dear.
The flat was indeed tinyjust a bed, a table, two chairs, an ancient TVbut clean and scented with vanilla; Doris loved to bake.
Tell me whats going on, Doris asked, setting the kettle on.
Emily poured out everything. Doris listened, nodding slowly.
Oh, love Men are like that. Proud, and admitting somethings wrong feels like a death sentence to them.
Do I have to wait forever for him to finally go to a doctor?
No, you did right leaving. Let him think.
The first days were quiet. Emily set up a makeshift bed in a corner and helped Doris around the house. James called now and then, but she didnt answer.
Later Doris complained of chest pains. An ambulance rushed her to the hospital.
Dont worry, dear, she whispered as they lifted her onto a stretcher. Im old, things happen.
In the ward, Doris recovered. Emily visited daily, bringing homecooked meals and news.
Hows your husband? Doris asked one afternoon.
Nothing much. Hes called a couple of times, just shouting into the phone.
Did you ever answer?
First time I did. The second I didnt. Why listen to the same rant?
Maybe hes finally gone to a doctor?
Unlikely.
The corridor buzzed with visitors. Emily headed for the exit and almost collided with a young doctor in a white coatblonde, bright eyes.
Excuse me, she said.
No harm done. Who are you looking for?
My grandmother, in Ward Seven.
Oh, Mrs. Evers! the doctor smiled. Shes a wonderful patient. Im Dr. Daniel Hart, cardiologist.
Emily.
Pleasure, Emily. Dont worry, your grandmother will be fine. Shes just getting on in years.
He spoke of Doriss condition, of treatment, while Emily watched his steady hands, long fingers, neatly trimmed nails.
Thank you for your care, she replied.
He lingered the next day, then the day after, and Emily began coming early, hoping to see him again.
One day, Grandma, the doctor wants to know if youll be coming, Doris said with a sly grin.
Wants to know?
Yes! He says, Hows your granddaughter? Hes a good lad, by the waysingle.
Emily blushed.
Grandma, what are you saying
What? Youre practically single now. Your James
Im married.
Pfft!
A week later Daniel was transferred to another ward. On his last day, he stopped by Emily in the corridor.
Ill miss you, he said simply.
Me too, she admitted.
He handed her his card.
If you ever need anything or just want to talk.
Emily took the card; their fingers brushed.
Thank you.
And also Daniel hesitated. Youre very beautiful, and a bit sad. I hope that changes someday.
Doris was discharged and grew stronger at home, but Emily still dreaded leaving her alone. James called now and then, sometimes she answered, sometimes she didnt. The last call ended with him shouting that she was behaving like a spoiled girl. Emily hung up and never lifted the receiver again.
A month later a strangers voice rang through the phone.
Emily? This is Daniels mother. He gave me your number
Is something wrong?
No, no! Its just his birthday tomorrow and hed love to see you. Could you come?
Emily hesitated, but Doris, listening at the kitchen door, waved her on.
Go on, love! When was the last time you had fun?
The birthday went splendidly. Daniel introduced Emily to his friends, was attentive yet never overbearing. When she left, he said,
Id like to see you again. May I?
Yes, she whispered.
They began seeing each other cautiously, gently. Daniel never pressed for explanations, just stayed close. Occasionally Emily spent the night at his flat.
Then the unexpected happenedEmily discovered she was pregnant.
Will you marry me? Daniel asked when she told him.
Of course, she laughed, tears of joy spilling over.
A year later Emily pushed a stroller down the park path. Daniel walked beside her, cracking jokes. Their son, Milo, cooed in his sleep.
Ahead, James and Margaret Ellis appeared, frozen as statues. Seeing Emily, they stood still, rooted to the spot.
Emily kept her pace, head held high. In Jamess eyes she read all the pain, regret, and understanding.
Margaret tugged Jamess sleeve.
Lets go, James.
He didnt move. He stared at the stroller, at Emilys happy face, at Daniel, and finally realised his mistakethough it was too late.
