Chapter 6: Boy

On Friday he was in the waiting room when we got there.

He had on the same coat, and he'd shaved badly.

He stood up when we came in, and he didn't say a word.

Nonna looked him up and down. "He slept in the car."

"I slept on your porch," Maxim said. "Until your neighbor called the police."

"The woman across the street," Nonna said, and sniffed. "She does that."

I walked past him to the desk and gave my name.

I told myself he could sit where he liked.

Then the door opened and the sonographer called me back.

My grandmother stood up, and so did he.

I turned around.

"You can come," I said to him. "You can watch, and you can't talk."

"I won't talk."

"I mean it, Maxim. If you say anything that sounds like a decision, you're out."

"Understood."

He followed me down the hall and said nothing.

The room was small and dim, with the machine glowing blue at the end of the table.

I lay back and lifted my shirt.

I heard him make a sound when he saw the bump in the light, a short, rough breath he tried to swallow.

I didn't look at him.

The sonographer squeezed the gel on my skin, and it was cold.

Then she turned the screen.

It was nothing like the first picture, a flickering bean.

This was a person.

There was a curved, perfect spine, and a long line of ribs.

There was a face in profile, with a nose and a little pushed-out chin.

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