Page 59 of Counting Backwards

“If you’ve been rude in order to mask some alleged feelings for me, or to snuff them out or whatever, why have you all of a sudden started acting nicer?” It was entirely possible that he was just manipulating me for some reason I hadn’t yet figured out.

Dustin nodded. “Fair. Leave it to Jessa Gidney to find the holes in any argument.” I thought I heard a fondness to his tone.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“It was that day in the car,” he said. “When we drove out to Brooklyn to talk to Jacinta. I saw that you were struggling with something, and... I don’t know, I just didn’t want to cause you any more distress, no matter how insignificant. Even though you didn’t want to discuss your personal business with me, you were clearly feeling something very deeply. As usual, I admired your passion, and I decided during that car ride that I didn’t want to add anything else to your clearly full plate.”

I was floored. All this time I thought he was a callous frat boy. I had the urge to knock against his chest to see if the other Dustin Ortiz was hiding somewhere inside. I’d been so wrong about him in so many ways. Something tugged at my heart while he spoke, almost pulling me toward him. But like he said, I was married.Married.And I couldn’t give in to the pull. Not when my marriage was hanging by a thread. My loyalty had to be to Vance, even if he was AWOL.

Before I could think of what to say, Dustin shrugged again like he’d just finished telling a funny little story—not laying bare his secrets. “Let’s get in there.”

He turned back to the entrance, and I followed behind, wondering why my life seemed to be getting more complicated with each passing day.

The meetings with Romina Ignacio and Yamileth Navar went just as Fern had predicted. Yamileth arrived at the visitation room dressed in the same blue jumpsuit I’d grown used to seeing at the facility. She had wavy brown hair she wore loosely around her pale face. I knew already that Yamileth was thirty-four years old and had been subjected to a procedure at the hands of Dr. Choudry that left her sterile.

With Dustin interpreting, Yamileth explained that, like Isobel,she’d not been told anything about a hysterectomy until after she’d woken up. She had been under the impression they were removing a cyst from an ovary, and she swore she’d never given consent for anything else.

With each word of Yamileth’s that Dustin relayed, I felt my skin growing itchier. I tried to imagine being trapped in a doctor’s office without the ability to leave of my own free will. The table full of surgical tools. The locked doors.

“She asked the nurse for an interpreter, but they didn’t bring anyone,” Dustin said, repeating Yamileth’s statements.

“How did you know they wanted to do anything at all without an interpreter?”

As Dustin repeated the question in Spanish, Yamileth nodded like she’d been waiting for me to ask.

“I have a few words in English,” she answered through Dustin. “‘You’re sick,’ the nurse told me. The only other words I understood were, ‘Doctor fix,’ and when I asked for the interpreter, they said there was ‘no time.’ They finally got the interpreterafterthe procedure to explain how I should care for the incision. That’s how I found out what happened to me.

“There was one woman,” Yamileth told us as Dustin interpreted, “Stella. Her bed was next to mine, and we sat together at every meal. They told her if she made a complaint about the clinic, she would have to spend another seven years in prison.”

“Where is she now, your friend Stella?” I asked, thinking maybe she would also be willing to join the class action if she understood she could do so anonymously.

Even though I didn’t understand the Spanish words that Yamileth said next, the anger came through loud and clear before Dustin translated.

“She disappeared. Nobody told us what happened to her.”

The meeting with Romina, Fern’s other contact, was different. Unlike the other women, Romina had not been operated on. She explained in a mix of English and Spanish that she had been given a shot of Depo-Provera, a contraceptive injection meant to make a woman sterile for several months. The doctor injected her without explaining what was in the shot. She only found out when she climbed back into the transfer van with a Band-Aid on her bicep and one of the other women asked if she’d gotten “the birth control shot.” When Romina got back to Hydeford, she asked the attending nurse what she’d been given. The nurse checked the file and confirmed it.

Romina was awaiting a hearing on the appeal of her deportation order. She begged us to keep her name private, lest her participation influence the outcome of her case. I wished I could do more to reassure her, but why would a woman in Romina’s position trust anyone at all?

After we finished the meeting, I walked with Dustin toward the exit to say goodbye. I had to go back in for my appointment with Isobel, but Dustin’s work was done.

“So that went as well as we could have hoped, I think.” I still felt awkward from our earlier conversation.

Dustin nodded as he opened a locker near the facility’s entrance and removed his messenger bag.

“Yup.” He didn’t meet my eyes as he slung the bag over his shoulder.

“Listen,” I said, but he held up a hand to stop me.

“No.” He shook his head. “Let’s not make this weird. I said what I said. I’m just a guy who’s more comfortable laying it all out there. I know there won’t be anything between us.” He swallowed hard before a playful glint crept into his eyes. “Especially because you promised to leave me alone now so I don’t lose my job. Not everyonehas years of savings and your stellar résumé, never mind an investment banker spouse to get them through times of unemployment.”

I didn’t want to tell him I actually mightnothave my banker spouse anymore, that I might have successfully destroyed my marriage. I let my eyes rove over Dustin for a long moment. It was appealing, the idea of seeking comfort from him. Maybe any man who wasn’t always angry with me would have been appealing at this point. And Tate had been right. Dustin was a good guy, not just a handsome one. But I couldn’t give up hope that Vance might come back to me, not yet. The last thing I needed was to complicate matters further by thinking about another guy.

“Thank you,” I said, offering him a regretful smile.

He nodded once more, and I watched as he walked away.

A few minutes later, I was back in the meeting room greeting Isobel. I noticed a small grease stain on the sleeve of her jumpsuit and wondered how often the uniforms were washed. When the door clicked closed behind the departing guard, Isobel took the seat opposite me and offered me a tight smile, the kind that said she wasn’t pleased at all.