“Maybe I’m pregnant?” she whispered in my ear before nibbling on it.

We got out of there, heading for Jake’s truck. Down in another part of the parking lot, we could see Jake and Joanna standing near her car in some sort of intense discussion.

“I-I hope that’s not about me,” I murmured to Megan as I helped her mount the driver’s side of the big truck.

“It probably is,” said Megan so off-handedly that I almost missed a step climbing in behind her. I got behind the wheel, and she scooted over next to me.

“That’s not reassuring,” I mentioned as I pulled the heavy door closed.

She shrugged. “In her own way, Joanna thinks she’s helping. The latest story she told the squad this morning is that you’ve always had a pussy. You just never showed it to anyone.”

“I—what?” I felt as if someone had rung my bell, like I’d hit my head against the ground while being tackled.

“It’s ridiculous,” she continued. “But she got the whole squad, even the juniors and alternates, to agree that none of them had seen you nude before last Friday night.”

She snuggled against me. “Even I had to admit that I hadn’t seen you, you know, naked, before then, either.”

She looked up at me, but I kept my eyes on my driving. Getting in and out of school lots was always a hassle, even at noon. We passed Jake and Joanna, got a nod and a wave each from them, and Megan waved back. I turned left, intending that we drive-thru Taco Rey on the way to the clinic.

But Megan wasn’t done. “She demanded that I, you know, describe you there—uh—like how big you were and, and, like that!”

“You—I—she!”

“So I lied,” Megan said calmly. “I said you were enormous, built like that statue of Trigger in Las Vegas. That when we made love, I was afraid you would split me in two!” She giggled. “I made sure they wouldn’t believe that, and we all laughed. A lot.”

‘I’m going to kill her,” I said conversationally.

Megan giggled again. “So you’re upset at her but not at me for my little fib?”

I sighed. “Little fib.”

“Just a tiny one,” she said, holding her finger, almost touching her thumb.

I frowned at her. “Have you ever been tickled until you pissed yourself?” I asked.

“Petey, Pete, Pet,” she said and snuggled closer.

I felt a wet heat flash through me, settling in a spot near the center of my being. I wanted to squirm, but resisted, sure that Megan would know why if I did. I said nothing, but dropped my hand on top of hers and gave her a little squeeze.

*

I drove to the far end of the parking lot at the medical center and started back.

“Don’t… oh, you’re not going to park out here?” Megan asked.

“No, I’ll park near the doors. I just wanted to see what cars are here.”

“Um,” she said agreeably. “Use the single door. It goes into the waiting room without walking in front of everyone.”

“Good to know,” I said. “Would you tell the desk I’m here, then come and get me when they call?” I tried not to whine when I made the request.

“No,” she said, pushing on me to get me to open the truck door and climb down. I sighed and did so, then caught her as she jumped from the running board into my arms.

“Oof,” I complained. “You’re getting heavier.”

“Maybe I’m pregnant?” she whispered in my ear before nibbling on it.

I put her down and kissed her. “Are you trying to make me laugh to cheer me up, or just being crazy?”

“Yeah, no,” she said, wrinkling her nose. That made no sense, so I kissed her again.

We made our way inside and took seats in the waiting room, leaving our displays of affection outside.

There was no sign of Dr. Verre or Granny Marie, and an unfamiliar young woman sat at the reception desk and slid her little window open to demand we check in. Megan got up to do that while I stayed put.

Like on Saturday at the free clinic, a half dozen young women, two obviously pregnant and two with children, took up most of the chairs in the room.

A toddler in a diaper sat near the toy box, banging a large plastic toy shaped like the number three against a wooden boat. No one told him not to, so he kept doing it. He seemed intent on breaking the plastic number. I tried not to watch.

Tak! Tok! Tunk! I wanted to snatch the toys out of his hands and put them back in the toy box.

“Ellery,” said someone, but I didn’t see who had spoken. The boy in the diaper (why was I sure it was a boy?) screwed his face up, ready to cry, when Megan distracted him by returning and sitting down beside me.

“When they call,” she said quietly, “let me go up first. Then you follow and tell the twat at the window that you’re with me.”

I blinked. My girlfriend does not call people such names. “Okay,” I said, trusting that she had a reason. We sat there for a while, and I noticed that Megan had a clipboard with a piece of paper on it. “What’s that?” I asked, but she shook her head.

Someone else got called, and I reached for the clipboard. This time Megan let me have it, but reluctantly.

It had a pen attached, and I realized it was a patient information form. I took the pen and was about to start filling it out, but Megan shook her head very slightly, so I stopped and started reading it.

The first section was pretty typical for this sort of thing, I supposed: name, address, next of kin, insurance carrier. Then a long list of questions on medical history, like diseases and immunizations I had had and any allergies I might have.

I looked at Megan curiously. Why didn’t she want me to fill this out? The receptionist was going to ask for it when I got called up.

She reached out and tapped the bottom section.

I looked at it and felt the world go a bit wobbly. The first question was, “Are you pregnant?” Further down was another doozy, “When was your last period?”

I passed the clipboard back to Megan. She nodded. “You fill it out?” I suggested. She shook her head but kept the clipboard.

We sat for a few more minutes, then the woman at the desk slid the little window open and called, “Gayle Peterson?”

Oh.

Megan stood and went forward, touching me on the wrist to indicate I should follow. I did a good impression of a gallows shuffle, but the room wanted to spin around me. I swallowed hard several times.

Megan put the clipboard with the still unfilled-out form in a receptacle, then leaned down to speak through the window without anyone else in the room hearing her. Well, I could.

“This is ‘Hunter,’” she said. “He’s with me.”

“Does Doctor know, Miss Petersen?” the receptionist asked.

Megan answered sharply, “She’s my aunt. She knows.”

“Go through that door…” But we were already moving in the required direction, Megan towing me by the wrist.

Once into the hallway beyond the door, she whispered to me, “Gayle is your first name? No wonder you go by Pete!”

“No,” I tried to explain. “It’s Gaylen, not Gayle. My grandfather’s name was Galen without the y. And Hunter is my other grandfather.”

Megan slapped a hand over her mouth, and I knew she was giggling.

I couldn’t blame her. I rolled my eyes at her, cocked my head first one way then the other ,and opened my eyes and mouth wide like I was astonished.

“Stop, Petey, stop!” she gasped. “I’m gonna bust up!”

But Granny Marie appeared at a door along the hallway. “In here, Miss Hunter,” she said, “I have to take your vitals.”

I blinked. Miss Hunter? Oh yeah, Dr. Verre had started calling me that last time. “Um,” I said. “I’m confused.”

“In here now,” said Granny firmly. “You can be confused later.”