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“Knock, knock.” A man in a white coat strolls into the room, an easy smile on his face. “You’re the parents of this little champion, I presume?”
He says “little champion” the way people say “buddy” or “old chap.” A placeholder when you can’t remember someone’s name.
“How did Benjamin do?” I ask. “What’s his prognosis?”
He gestures to the bassinet casually. “Look at him. He’s pink and healthy as a baby can be. Things went well.”
“Define ‘well.’ I’d like specifics.”
His smile tightens, but he nods. “Of course. Everything went exactly as we hoped. We kept it minimally invasive and were in and out in an hour.”
“And that’s all he needed?” Piper asks. “One surgery and he’s cured?”
The surgeon nods. “For now, yes.”
A red flag waves in my mind. “What does that mean, ‘for now?’ Will he need more surgeries?”
“Potentially,” the doctor says, like it’s no big deal. “There will be appointments to check in and make sure everything is healing the way we want. Especially over the next few years. But if all goes well, he’ll be just like any other kid.”
Will he be just like any otherdon, though?I hear Sergey’s voice in the back of my head.You know the answer. He can’t handle the stress of this life. His enemies will take advantage of every weakness, up to and including his broken heart.
“You’re saying he’ll be average.”
The doctor frowns. I can tell he’s trying to decide if I think that’s a good thing or not.
“Well,” he answers, smoothing the lapel of his white coat, “you shouldn’t notice any issues.”
“I don’t want to just not notice issues; I want there to be no issues to notice. What do we need to do to make sure there are none of those?”
Piper’s warm hand circles around my wrist. “He’ll be exceptional.” I look down at her, and her eyes are glassy with sincerity. “If anything goes wrong down the line, we’ll take care of it. He’ll be perfect.”
He’s already perfect, I think.He’s always been perfect.
He was perfect with blue lips and gray skin. He was perfect when I found him swaddled in a flannel receiving blanket on my porch.
Heart condition or not, nothing will change that.
“He’s perfect.” I nod in agreement and then hold my hand out for the surgeon. “Thank you, Doctor.”
The man’s chest puffs out and he shakes my hand. “Of course. The nurses will be in and out to talk with you about his care, but he’ll be drowsy for a few more hours. Rest up, eat, relax. Your boy is fine.”
The doctor leaves, but his voice echoes in my head.
Your boy.
My boy.
My heart swells with pride, and fuck if I’m not turning into a sap.
The woman responsible for my transition sniffles at my side. I turn just as she swipes at her eyes and darts into the en-suite bathroom. “I’ll be right back.”
I follow behind her and knock on the door. “Piper.”
“Just a second!” She tries to sound cheery, but I can hear the tears in her voice.
“Piper, open the door.”
She clears her throat. “Just a second. I’ll be out in—”
