Chapter 3
If he had been a monster every second of every day, perhaps I could have placed everything that happened into one sealed box.
But Luke had laughed at terrible movies.
He had made excellent pancakes.
He used to bring my mother groceries when her arthritis became painful.
He once drove four hours through a snowstorm when Rebecca’s car broke down.
He had been kind.
Then selfish.
Then frightened.
Then controlling.
Then cruel.
People were capable of being several things.
Understanding that did not require me to return to him.
That became one of the most important lessons of my new life.
I could understand without excusing.
Remember without returning.
Grieve without reopening the door.
The genetic counselor explained the science to Rebecca and me several days later.
Her name was Dr. Hannah Morris, and she had the calming habit of drawing diagrams while she talked.
“These chromosome pieces are arranged differently,” she said, sketching lines on paper. “Luke is healthy because he has all the necessary genetic material. It’s simply rearranged.”
“But a child could inherit the wrong amount?”
“An embryo can sometimes receive an unbalanced combination, yes.”
“Would that cause miscarriage?”
“It can increase the risk.”
“Were my babies unhealthy?”
Dr. Morris paused.
“Some of the available testing from your pregnancies did not identify abnormalities. But older pregnancy-loss testing was less comprehensive than what we can do now, and not every loss was tested in the same way.”
I nodded.
For once, uncertainty did not feel like an attack.
She wasn’t telling me I was imagining something.
She was simply saying there were things medicine could answer and things it could not.
“So Luke’s result might explain some losses,” I said.
“Yes.”
“But not necessarily all.”
“Correct.”
“And my body wasn’t defective.”
Dr. Morris leaned forward.
“Nothing in the records I’ve reviewed supports the way that was apparently described to you.”
I looked down at the chromosome diagram.
May you like
Two neat lines.
Several handwritten numbers.
