by Beth Martin
“There’s something else going on,” she said. “I feel like I’m just scratching the surface of a larger conspiracy.”
“It’s happened before,” he said leaning against her desk and crossing his arms. “Like that doctor who botched a bunch of sterilization procedures. Maybe this is something similar.”
“No, this is different,” Irene said. “The last several cases have all had clean samples. I think I should reopen them and dig deeper.”
“Don’t make more work for yourself. Just let it go. Here,” he got up and grabbed a file from his own desk and brought it back, “use this one to distract yourself.”
She opened the file. It was a woman requesting to have a second child. “While you’ve been investigating movie stars, we’ve gotten a load of these. I could really use your help clearing out the queue.”
“Fine,” Irene muttered, placing the folder on the top of her pile. Angel leaned against her desk, watching her. “What?” she asked.
“I asked around, about your need for a donor.”
Irene felt apprehensive about Angel so casually sharing her personal affairs with other people. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“I wanted to,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Jamie would make a great mom, and you’ll fill in nicely in the role of workaholic father.”
“Ha ha.” Irene said, her face deadpan.
“My friend Julio is an eternal bachelor, but recently decided maybe keeping his stuff in the gene pool would be a good idea. If you’d like, I can set it up to introduce him to you and Jamie.”
Her gut reaction was to say no, but Jamie would be furious if she passed up an opportunity like this. She sighed, saying, “Fine, set it up.”
“You won’t be sorry. Now get back to work.” He pointed at the new file on her desk before walking away.
five
Annette stared in disbelief at the beautiful invitation. Heavy, off-white paper with tasteful script font. Thermographic printed letters raised above the paper and even felt expensive under her fingertips.
Gerry Blisburn cordially invites you to a baby shower on Saturday, October 18, 2059 at 4pm to celebrate the upcoming arrival of Raymond and Clara Blisburn’s baby boy.
“We’re registered at Baby Boutique,” Clara said. The whole family was sitting around the dining table at Gerry and Tom’s apartment for a family dinner.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Annette spat.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Gerry asked.
“What’s the matter? Oh, I’m just giving birth to my baby on that day.”
“You can’t schedule giving birth,” Tom said.
“Yes you can. Most babies are delivered by c-section, a procedure which I scheduled months ago.”
“Well how was I supposed to know what date you planned on having your baby?” Clara asked. She rubbed her perfectly small bump. Annette felt positively huge compared to her.
“I sent it to your calendar. I also sent it to Ray and Mom and Dad.”
Ray pulled out his device and searched his calendar. “I’m so sorry, Annie. Maybe we could just reschedule the baby shower.”
Clara gave her husband a furious look. “I can’t reschedule the shower. The invitations are already sent.”
“Just call everyone invited and tell them you had to change the date. They’ll understand,” Ray said.
Clara started shouting. “I am not changing the date by just calling everyone. Besides, everything has been set. I’ve ordered the cake, reserved the caterer, and rented a helium tank for blowing up all the blue balloons. Plans have been made. It’s in only a couple weeks. I can’t change it now.”
Annette hadn’t gotten a baby shower. Well, her coworkers had thrown her a party with cake and streamers. They pulled together to get her a big gift certificate which paid for her baby’s deluxe crib. But work parties didn’t count. Irene had wanted to plan something for her, but had gotten too busy with work.
She felt hurt that her mother neglected to throw her a shower, but more than that, she just wanted her mom with her when the baby was born. She wanted her family to meet her baby on the actual birthday.
“You’re going to be with me at the hospital though, right, Mom?” Annette said.
“We’re hosting Clara’s baby shower here at the apartment, so I have to be here,” Gerry said. “You know if I could be there for you, I would.”
Annette hated how emotional she had gotten while expecting. Hot tears streamed down her face and nothing could stop them. On a normal day she would have forgotten about her family and forged on by herself.
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sure your dad would go with you,” Gerry said.
Tom violently shook his head. “Oh no. I’ve already witnessed two births. I’ve done my share.”
Annette stood up abruptly. She still wasn’t used to her new shape and sent her chair clattering over and had to hold onto the table for a second to steady her balance. “I wish I could count on you guys,” she said before waddling slowly out of her parent’s home and down the hall.
“Annie,” Ray called, running out of the apartment. He caught up to her in the hall. “I’m so sorry, Annie. I swear I didn’t know Clara scheduled her shower for the same day you’re having your baby. I’ll try to talk some sense into her and Mom. If they insist on being stubborn, I’ll go with you to the hospital.”
“Thanks, Ray,” she said softly, staring down at her enormous belly. She started crying again, and wasn’t even sure why. Her brother pulled her into a hug, patting her back.
“I’m proud of you, Annie. You’re tough. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Annette nodded. Everything would be fine.
“I should get back,” Ray said. Annette continued down the hall. Everything would be fine.
··OOO··
Rain drizzled down. It was cold out. Irene didn’t mind the cold, but she hated going in and out of houses in this weather. The warm interior of each home required peeling off her coat and layers of sweaters, just to put them all back on before going back out and driving to the next house.
On the passenger seat next to her sat a pile of folders. The bottom one was the file for Rose Clark’s daughter. She didn’t feel right closing it, not yet. The rest of her case files were standard requests to exceed child limits. She had reluctantly agreed to help Angel clear out the backlog.
Each case was emotionally draining. The hopeful parents usually had a sad story which they used to justify their request, and Irene had the unfortunate task of explaining that their request would be denied. In the unlikely case that she could grant a request, the couple had to wait for procreation approval, a process which could take several years. And for the lucky few who made it that far, they still needed to pay the hefty medical costs of conceiving after having the sterilization procedure.
Irene took the top file and dashed out of her car to the front door of the apartment complex. She pressed the buzzer. “Hello, Sophie Carmichael? This is Irene Crow from the Social Department.”
“Please, come in!” The door unlocked and Irene went inside and climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. She was about to knock on door 4B when it opened and a woman with smooth black hair and olive skin greeted her. “Hello! Please come in. Thank you so much for stopping by. I was beginning to think our request had gotten lost.” She smiled and ushered Irene in. Irene knew in just a few minutes when this woman learned her request would get denied, she wouldn’t be so chipper.
Irene double-checked her file. Sophie was requesting a second child, which would also be a second child for her husband as well.
“Mrs. Carmichael?” Irene asked.
“Yes. Sorry, I would shake your hand, but I’m kind of a mess. I was just doing some baking.” Sophie had flour smeared on her face, hands, and ruffle-trimmed apron. She looked down, then untied the apron and set it aside before saying, “Please, take a seat.”
Irene settled into a chair in the living room. This apartment looked
like it already housed a small child. The coffee table had foam pads on the corners and a baby swing sat at the side of the room. According to their file, Sophie stayed at home while her husband worked at a software company.
“I’ve already read through your file, but I’d like to hear in your own words why you’d like to have a second child,” Irene said.
“In a perfect world I’d have several children. I love kids. I worked at a childcare facility before I quit to stay home with our little Adam.”
“Tell me about your pregnancy with Adam.”
Sophie smiled, “We were so happy when we found out we were expecting. I feel like being a mom is my calling. It was a pretty easy pregnancy, although I did have some strange cravings. I couldn’t seem to get enough peanut butter. Peanuts, of all things. My husband is allergic…”
“Your scan showed some abnormalities,” Irene said, guiding Sophie back on track.
“It did. Adam had a few birth defects.”
“Severe defects. Your doctor stated that they were incompatible with life.”
“He recommended we terminate, but I could already feel Adam moving. He was our baby. We had to give him a chance.”
“Doctors are required to tell you that if you have a live birth, you won’t be able to try again for a healthy baby.”
“I don’t know,” Sophie said, rubbing her eyes. “I don’t think my doctor told us.”
Irene pulled a page out of her file and gave it to Sophie. It was the standard “authorization to continue pregnancy” form which specifically stated that once a live baby was born, the mother was required to submit to sterilization. “Is that your signature on the bottom?” she asked.
“Yes,” Sophie said, choking back tears. “And I did get the procedure. We thought Adam was going to make it. Right after he was born, he went into surgery to repair the hole in his abdominal wall. But he wouldn’t eat. They put a feeding tube in his nose, but he just spit everything back up.” Sophie started crying into her hands. “We didn’t even get to take him home from the hospital.”
Irene hated this. She really did feel for Sophie, but exceptions were very rarely made. In general, babies stayed healthy. Medicine had come a long way. Only in cases of gross medical negligence on behalf of the healthcare system could Irene grant a child limit exemption.
With such stringent restrictions, parents were hyper-vigilant ensuring the safety of their child. A baby's breathing could be monitored every moment using a device. Advances in nutrition made even the strictest dietary requirements easy to meet. Babies were precious and coveted and society saw them as a treasure which should be protected at all costs.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Irene said, “but I’m not going to be able to approve your request.”
Sophie dabbed her eyes with her sleeve. “I knew it was a long shot. My husband said it was worth a try. Thank you for at least coming in person. I don’t think I could have handled the news through a device.”
People tended to get irate over a call. In person was always best. “I wish there was more I could do. I’ll close out the file later today and you’ll get a letter in the next week for confirmation.”
Sophie nodded and Irene left the warm apartment. She let out a heavy sigh as she got back in her car. She flipped open the next folder. This one was a woman who had given up her first baby for adoption and now wanted the chance to raise a child. It was a straight forward no.
She pulled the bottom folder from underneath the stack and spread it open on her lap. George Clark’s medical records could help her piece together the truth behind his daughter’s birth. She could take a quick break and do a little digging.
Pulling out her device, she tried to recall the pseudonym George had used with Verilicorp. “Search Verilicorp sample log for Joseph Smiley.”
The screen of her device swirled for a moment before returning, “Four samples logged from Verilicorp inventory for a Joseph Smiley. All four have been successfully destroyed.” Even with this information, she didn’t know for sure that Joseph Smiley was George Clark, or if he didn’t have samples elsewhere.
“Search for oncologists at Santa Teresa Hospital.”
“There are seven oncologists who practice at Santa Teresa Hospital.” She scanned through the list on the screen. None of the names were even close to the name ‘Roth.’ Looking back at the file, she pulled out the medical release George had signed. He had left the name of the doctor blank. She could fill in anything.
“Call the office of George Clark.”
The line rang before a woman’s voice answered. “You’ve reached the office of George Clark, CEO of Certain Media. How may I direct your call?”
“Hello,” Irene said. “I’m calling from Dr. Roth’s office to confirm Mr. Clark’s physical scheduled for next week.”
“I’m sorry, who is this?”
“This is Dr. Roth’s office. Mr. Clark has an appointment on Wednesday at…”
“Mr. Clark sees Dr. Singh.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Irene said, reaching for a pen in the glove compartment and jotting the name down. “I must have the wrong patient.”
Once the call disconnected, she said, “Call Dr. Singh.”
“Calling Dr. Singh.” Pleasant music played while a voice instructed her to say ‘schedule an appointment,’ ask for the billing department, or stay on the line to speak with a representative.
“Seattle Medical Practice,” a flat voice said.
“This is Irene Crow from the Social Department. I’m calling to request the medical records for George Clark.”
“I’m sorry, but we can’t give out confidential medical information. You need an authorization from the patient.”
Irene sighed. “I do have a signed authorization form.”
“There’s a seventy dollar fee for copies of medical records. Once we have authorization, payment processed, and an address to send the copies to, it will take four to six weeks to receive the file.”
She hated receptionists who felt their jobs were beneath them. “What’s your name?”
“…Freddie.”
“Freddie, I appreciate your attempt to be thorough. I’m going to assume you’re new and give you the benefit of the doubt. Let me introduce myself again. My name is Irene Crow, and I am calling from the Social Department. When the Social Department requests a medical record, you are required, by law, to send those records within two business days. Do you think you can handle that, Freddie, or do I need to speak with Dr. Singh directly?”
“Where do you want the records sent?” he asked sheepishly.
“Send them to the Social Department office in Seattle, attention Irene Crow.”
“I’ll see if I can make time to send them today.”
“Thank you.”
When she got back to the office, the medical records were already sitting on the printer. Irene picked them up and started to leaf through.
“What’s that?” Angel asked, walking up behind her.
“George Clark’s medical records,” she said before walking over to her desk and taking a seat.
Angel followed her, “You still working on that?”
“I just had to tell four women that they couldn’t have a baby. I needed a break.”
“Anything interesting?” he asked, peeking over her shoulder to look at the records.
“I just got it, so I don’t know yet. But, he did tell me the wrong name for his doctor.”
“I’m sure that’s not the only thing he lied about,” Angel said before walking away.
··OOO··
Irene and Annette hadn’t been on a coffee date since Annette had told Irene she was pregnant. Their usual conversations over coffee had been replaced with chatting over ice-cream. It had been fine in the summer, but this autumn had been really wet and unseasonably cold. Annette didn’t care. Her body craved ice-cream.
The door jingled as Irene stepped into the parlor. Annette was the only customer there, and was already seated and
eating a cone of mint chocolate chip.
“Aren’t you cold?” Irene asked as she removed her coat and placed it on the other chair at Annette’s table.
Annette looked down at her sleeveless blouse. “No, I’ve been having lots of hot flashes. Go ahead and get something.”
“I’m fine, thanks,” Irene said as she sat down.
“I’ve gained fifty pounds and am shoveling down frozen dessert for an afternoon snack. Make me feel less fat and eat some damn ice-cream.”
“Fine,” Irene said. She got up and ordered, returning with a hot-fudge sundae. “Happy?” She took a spoonful of the gloopy, melting mess and stuck it in her mouth.
“Yes,” Annette said with a smile. “I was wondering if you would like to come with me to the hospital when I give birth.”
“Of course I’ll come,” Irene said. “Have you thought about what you’ll name her?”
“I like the name Ophelia,” Annette said.
“So do I.”
··OOO··
Jamie spent way too much time getting ready. She tried on every outfit in their closet, asking Irene if each one looked like something a cool mom would wear.
“You look fine,” Irene insisted as Jamie modeled a shift dress with a large abstract print paired with a fur-trimmed, oversized cardigan.
“I look too fussy. Maybe I should wear some slacks with a simple top, something more practical,” she said.
“Don’t worry about it, bunny. You look nice.” Irene hugged Jamie from behind, kissing the base of her neck. The fur on her sweater tickled Irene’s nose.
“I saw in the news that taco stands have become pretty high brow,” Jamie said, moving to the vanity and brushing her hair before coiling it into a high bun.
“Maybe if they set up next to office parks,” Irene said. “We’re going to a construction site.”
“We are? Who picked the place?”
“I guess Julio did.”
Jamie dabbed on some perfume. She was as ready as she could be.
They got in the car and made their way to meet Angel’s friend. The rain clouds had parted and the sun streamed through. The air felt wet and muggy as they carefully trudged along the muddy pathway from the parking lot to the informal gathering area. At least the ground was covered in gravel and not a mix of rainwater and mud like the surrounding areas.
