by CD Reiss
“Yes.”
The technician nodded, took the clipboard, and approached us. “Are you ready?”
This wasn’t our first rodeo, though every time felt like it. Diana didn’t want to hear the heartbeat. She didn’t want to see anything, so she clamped her eyes shut so she wouldn’t see the screen. She didn’t want to fall in love. She’d wept with joy when she heard the first whoosh whoosh of the baby we lost, and she didn’t want to cry again over something she couldn’t have.
So though this was her third sonogram for this pregnancy, only the tech had heard the heartbeat. I’d seen the grey blobs on the screen, but Diana acted as if she was just gaining weight. Dolores knew our history and knew how shut down Diana was. She handled us personally, making sure the gel was warm and her earphones were plugged in before the sound of the heartbeat came through the speakers.
“You understand today is it,” she said, rubbing the gel around with the sonogram wand. “The issue you’re worried about, if it doesn’t show today, it’s not going show up at all.”
“I understand,” Diana said.
I sat next to my huntress, holding her hand. Actually, she was holding mine in a death grip. I didn’t complain. That’s what I was there for. Death grips were my specialty.
“There could always be something,” Dolores continued as she adjusted knobs, sliding across the linoleum on a round stool.
“I understand.” Diana had done a lot of robotic understanding in the past months.
“Even during the birth, things can go wrong.”
“I understand.”
“Child could also be a brat. Not our fault.”
“She understands. Brattiness is her fault,” I said.
Diana’s eyes were still squeezed shut, but she faced me. “You love my brattiness.”
“I do.”
“Right,” Dolores continued. “Do you want to know the sex?”
“No,” I answered half a millisecond before Diana said, “Yes.”
“I see you guys decided.” She flicked a switch, and the screen lit up. There was our baby in glorious lo-fi black and white, swimming in static. “All right. Let’s see.” She leaned into her screen, moving the wand. “Well, knock me over with a feather. Happy to report Baby Steinbeck is as right as rain.”
“Diana,” I whispered, “did you hear that?”
She nodded but her eyes were shut so tight her upper lashes dovetailed with her lower.
Dolores marked numbers down, shifted the wand, clicked buttons and switches while Baby Steinbeck hovered behind me.
“You can look,” I said.
“I’m scared.”
“You don’t have to be.” I put my body between her and the screen. “Here. I’m between you and the screen. Open your eyes.”
She took a deep breath and did it, hanging her gaze on mine as if my attention was a six-inch-ledge over a hundred-story drop.
“Good girl. Are you ready to meet your… Dolores? Boy or girl?”
“Congratulations. You’re carrying a boy.”
All of my wife’s anxiety rushed out of her in the form of tears. “A boy?” she choked out.
“Are you ready to see your son?”
She nodded.
I moved out of the way, letting the light of the screen shine on her. She looked full and round, swollen with a joy she’d been holding so tightly she couldn’t let it go until it got too big for her fist. Her face twisted into sobs and spit, becoming more beautiful in relief and release.
“Do you want to hear the heartbeat?”
“Yes,” Diana answered before Dolores finished the question.
The whooshing came through the speakers, loud, strong, and steady.
“Heartbeat’s just about perfect.” Dolores continued, showing us where the spine was (exactly where it should be), where his penis was (same), and his placement in the placenta (just fine).
But we weren’t listening. I was watching my wife let go of months of taut apprehension, and she was staring at the screen through sheets of tears.
Dolores said something about leaving us alone. She froze the image and left, clicking the door behind her.
“It’s over,” Diana sobbed.
“It’s over.” I wiped her face with a handkerchief.
She turned away from the screen to make eye contact with me. “I finished.”
“Not quite, huntress.”
Every tear the handkerchief wiped away was replaced with two new ones. I kissed her cheeks, tasting brine and perfume. I couldn’t help it. They were the stuff life was made of. Salt of clarity. Water of growth. The elixir of change.
She put her arms around me, and I held her. I didn’t comfort her with pats or hushes. I didn’t tell her it was going to be all right, because it wasn’t. Life was messy, and God was an irresponsible parent. None of it mattered. I held her to keep her company. I was her companion, her complement, and her protector. The celebration of her light and the consummation of her darkness.
We were no more than bound, no less than gods, creating life from the love between us.
THE END
Thank you for reading!
If you liked this series, I recommend The Submission Series… get the first bundle by clicking—> Beg Tease Submit
Another Games novella is coming! If you want to find out more about Chris the Young Dominant… Get NIGHT GAMES!
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Also by CD Reiss
The Submission Series
Bundle One - Beg Tease Submit
Bundle Two - Control Burn Resist
Bundle Three - Sing Coda Dominance
The Corruption Series
Spin
Ruin
Rule
Standalones
Forbidden
Hardball
Shuttergirl
Secret Sins
