“What did I say? She better have a son, or
people will talk!”
“Stop it! It’s all my fault!” Helen fueled the
fire. Mark, protective husband mode
activated. Mom vs. Mark. Dinner: ruined.
L
Mom always ruled. Dad, sipping his beer,
mumbled, “Your mother just wants
grandkids.” Condescending much? Mark,
ready to die for his pregnant princess,
completely lost it.
Helen, attempting a dramatic faint, actually
fell. Started bleeding.
Paramedics. Mom hissed, “Go with her! Use your doctor connections! Boy or girl?”
It hit me. Cold to me, spoiling Mark. Hand- me–downs, student loans, med school. Then,
sudden interest.
く
I was their free healthcare.
“Fine,” I said, following Helen into the
ambulance.
At the hospital, Helen’s…unique…thought
processes were on full display.
“Have you eaten anything today?” the
ultrasound tech asked.
“I wanted to get my little prince a silver rattle,
but…
“What did you eat? Where does it hurt?”
く
“I’m 28 weeks. Last night, Mark and I…we
celebrated…with a whole box of donuts…
The tech rolled her eyes. Sent us for meds.
Helen grabbed her arm.
“Boy or girl? Tell me!”
“We can’t.”
“Whisper it!”
Just go home and rest. A rattle is a nice
thought.”
I raised a brow. Helen, clueless, chucked the
ultrasound gel. “Is it because we didn’t tip
く
you enough? How much do you want? We can
pay!”
The tech stared, speechless. Told Helen to
leave.
“Ha! Guilty!” Helen preened. Waiting room
audience. Phone out. “Look everyone! This
OB–GYN takes bribes for gender reveals!”
Thorny rose, indeed. Pricking everyone.
Security arrived, two giants “escorting” her out. Blacklisted, she still fumed, “Amy, do you
think she wanted more money?”
I fluttered my lashes. “Totally. She didn’t
く
I nullereu my lashes. Totally. Se uiun
want to tell us.
35
Helen, pain–free, leaned in, pulling out a
bottle of pills. “I met this sweet lady outside.
She’s got this old family secret for having
boys.”
I looked. Gender–selection pills.
“Helen, you’re so smart. What are those?”
“Miracle pills! Doctors only know fancy
medicine. They don’t get old–timey
remedies.”
r
“These folk cures are so powerful, hospitals
hide them so they don’t lose business! You
know, like, good money, bad money?”
I smiled. “Oh, Helen, you’re brilliant! I totally
get it.”
Helen, remembering I was a doctor, stashed the pills like I might confiscate them. I was a surgeon, but I knew these scams. Preying on
the…unsuspecting.
Last time, I’d begged Helen not to listen to quacks. Pulled strings for decent prenatal
care.
く
Not this time.
Maybe it was the pills. 41 and a half weeks.
Small town, best OB–GYNs at the hospital
she was banned from. Ended up at a smaller
place, cot next to the bathroom.
A boy. Huge, broad face, big nose, thick lips.
Mom: he’s blessed! Instant Helen approval.
The pills, maybe. Slow recovery. Mom wanted
my doctorly help.
I frowned. “Mom, wrong specialty. Surgeon.
What if I mess up and Helen can’t have
another son?”
<
Mom, aghast, agreed. Stay away from the
baby, too. Female “yin” energy, disrupt the
baby boy’s “yang.”
Ghost mode. No texts, no advice, moved my
assets, dogs to my boyfriend’s.
Helen’s confinement ended. Mom, refusing to
bathe her or hire help, summoned me. I
wanted to see the carnage.
Helen: pale, drained. Not the postpartum
glow. As I ran the bath, she sneered, “Amy, I
saw your Facebook. How many boyfriends?”
“A woman’s purity is everything. Even if he’s
<
hot, guys care if you’re not a virgin.” She.
puffed up. “Mark and I were each other’s
first. Even now, he says I’m like a virgin. He
even…checks…with a flashlight. He’s so
happy.” She beamed. “That’s a good
woman.”
I translated. They…had sex…postpartum…
and mistook the bleeding…for virginity?
Helen’s stupidity was a bottomless pit. No
wonder she was anemic. Probably prolonged
bleeding, causing issues.
I should’ve felt sympathy. I felt…amused.
“You’re so pure, Helen. I’m not worthy.
く
Helen preened, morally superior.
Mark arrived, saw blood, froze. “Still
bleeding? Amy, check her! Hospital?”
Helen giggled, shoving him. Their lovey–dovey
act. I wasn’t needed.
“Don’t call her ‘Amy‘! So embarrassing! This
is all your fault…”
While they…relived their wedding night…I checked on the baby. Tiny, hadn’t grown
much, face thinner than at birth. He wailed.
Mark and Helen, busy. Hadn’t fed him.
Starving.
く
I kept my mouth shut.
Mark ran in. “He’s so difficult! Crying,
sleeping! No one can calm him. Weird.”
“Amy, doctor! Get a pediatrician!”
Reassuring smile. “Mark, his cries are
stronger! Full of yang energy! Good sign!
Relax!”
Mark, relieved.
