I picked it up. “This is Ian,” I said.
“Ian.” It was Annie. I felt my balls shrink even more. “Ian, why haven’t you been answering your phone? Why is it the only time I can get in touch with you is when I call through to your office?”
“I didn’t realize you’d been calling,” I said, patting my pockets, not feeling my phone. “I don’t even know where my phone is.”
“That’s kind of irresponsible of you, don’t you think?”
I sighed. “What do you want, Annie?”
“I wanted to tell you that I’m going to be going in for some testing next week. One of the tests is a blood test that checks for genetic disorders.”
“Okay,” I said.
“It can also tell you what the sex of the baby is, even though it’s still pretty early. You don’t have to wait until the twenty-week ultrasound anymore if you don’t to.”
“Okay,” I said again. She might as well have been speaking another language.
“Did you . . . did you want to know? If the baby’s going to be a boy or a girl?”
Didn’t we already talk about this? I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose. When I re-opened my eyes, I could see Lynn at Daisy’s old desk, writing something on a steno pad, underarm fat wobbling. And then, as though she could feel my eyes on her, she lifted her head and looked right at me. I swiveled in my chair so she couldn’t see my face, Annie still barking away in my ear.
“I don’t think I want to,” I said.
“You don’t?”
“No. There are so few surprises left in the world.”
“Well . . . okay, then. If you don’t want to know, I won’t find out, either. But the other thing I wanted to tell you is that if something comes up in the test, like some abnormality, that I’m going to keep it anyway. I’m not going to get rid of it.”
“You’ve already decided this?”
“Yes.”
“Then why get the test in the first place? What’s the point?”
“The point is so I can be prepared. So you can be prepared. So it’s not just this big surprise the day the baby’s born. And depending on what it is, and how severe, the doctors might need to be prepared to take the baby right away and do surgery or—”
“Okay,” I interrupted. “I get it. I don’t think we need to start speculating about all of this just yet, considering you haven’t even had the test yet.”
“I’m just trying to keep you involved,” she said. “I don’t want you to feel like this is all happening and you have no idea about it.”
“Just do what you want,” I said. I hung up the phone, realizing that more and more lately, things were happening and I felt like I had no control over them whatsoever.
At the end of Lynn’s third day, she found me in the office kitchen, looking for the Tylenol that was normally kept in the bathroom.
“Did you move the Tylenol?” I asked.
“No,” she said.
“It’s usually in the bathroom, but it’s not there.”
“I haven’t touched it. I’ve got some in my purse. Well, actually it’s Midol. But I think it’ll do the same thing.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “It’s just a headache. I probably didn’t have enough caffeine this morning. You taking off?”
“Yes,” she said, but then she didn’t say anything else, she just stood there, watching me. Was she waiting for me to give her permission to go?
“Well, thanks,” I said. “It’s been working out pretty well so far—”