Page 115 - In Five Years

positive on the pregnancy test. Going to the doctor. The CT scan. The blood test
results.
“We need to run some additional tests,” he says. “I don’t want to say anything
yet.”

“Can we do that today?” I ask. I’ve been taking notes, writing down
everything that comes out of his mouth in my book, the one that’s supposed to be

functioning as a wedding planner.
“Yes,” he says. “I’m going to have the nurse come back in to get you started.”
“What’s your opinion?” I ask him.
He takes off his glasses. He looks at Bella. “I think we need to run some

additional tests,” he tells her.
He doesn’t have to say anything more. I’m a lawyer. I know what words

mean, what silences mean, what repetition means. And I know, there in black
and white, what he thinks. What he suspects. Maybe, even, what he already
knows. They were right.