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“What’s this guy’s name?” Dakota asked.
“Doctor Hill.”
“Hmmm,” he said, crossing his arms. “Doesn’t seem like a real name.”
Kyle looked at Ryan and rolled his eyes, as if to say ‘bringing him was a bad idea’. At best, Dakota was only being skeptical. He was looking out for my own best interests.
At worst…
“There, see?” said Kyle. “Diplomas all say doctor Richard Hill.”
I sat down between Kyle and Ryan. Dakota remained standing.
“Dick Hill?” he said, raising an eyebrow? “This guy’s name is—”
The door opened, and a sweet-looking old man entered. He clearly had Pacific-Islander heritage; Hawaiian, or maybe Filipino. Either way he had a warm, welcoming smile that immediately made me feel at ease.
“Well!” said Doctor Hill. “Which one of you is Sammara Madsen?”
The guys looked at each other dubiously. I elbowed Ryan before he could say anything.
“That would be me.”
Doctor Hill grinned and sat down across from us. “Pretty name,” he said pleasantly. He let out a long breath, then adjusted his glasses. “So what can I do for you, Ms. Madsen?”
“She’s worried that—”
I squeezed Kyle’s knee, cutting him off. As much as I knew he meant well, I didn’t want him speaking for me. Or any of them for that matter.
“I’ve been trying to get pregnant for six months,” I said. “And so far… nothing.”
The doctor kept staring down at my file. He flipped through a few pages without saying anything, before glancing up at me.
“You okay with everyone being here?” he asked, pointing around.
“Very,” I said. “Are you?”
The doctor laughed. “Oh I’m perfectly fine with it.” He raised an eyebrow at Dakota. “Would you like a chair brought in so—”
“No thanks.”
He went back to my file, which by now was extensive. I’d spent at least twenty straight minutes filling out forms in the waiting room. Everything from my prior sexual history to communicable diseases to the date of my latest pap-smear. Not to mention more invasive questions regarding prior ‘conception events’… among other things.
“Let’s see,” said Doctor Hill, almost cheerfully. “Mid-to-late twenties, good health, no bad habits, no prior history of…”
He went on for a little while, spouting more details plus some additional medical jargon before finally trailing off. He glanced up at me in the end. “You’re ovulating as normal?”
“As far as I can tell,” I said.
“Regular intercourse?”
One of the guys snickered. I couldn’t tell who it was, but silently I vowed to find out and break his legs.
“Yes.”
“Have you tried to pinpoint your most fertile days and—”
“All of that, yes,” I said quickly. It came out as impatient, almost even desperate. I felt somewhat bad but the doctor nodded appreciatively, showing that he understood.
