Chapter 4

04

Nine months carried, and in one night, delivered.

The night I gave birth, a thunderstorm broke over the city. They wheeled me into the operating room for a C-section.

Jacob stood outside the doors, pacing back and forth. In his hands he held two paternity test request forms he'd prepared long in advance, and beside him stood the notary he'd brought in specially and the doctor from the third-party testing agency.

Two loud, ringing cries, and a nurse came out cradling two swaddled babies.

"Congratulations! One boy, one girl, boy-girl twins! Big brother's five pounds thirteen, little sister's five pounds three. Mother and babies are all fine!"

My mother-in-law pressed her palms together, overcome, murmuring thanks to God.

Jacob didn't so much as glance at the babies. He just cut his eyes to the testing doctor beside him. "Draw the blood. Now."

The doctor nodded, took a sample from each baby's heel, sealed it, and carried it away.

When I woke in the hospital room, the anesthesia hadn't worn off, and the incision hurt down to the bone.

Jacob sat on the couch, his face dark, smoking.

"Rush order. Three days at the fastest." He didn't look at me. His voice was cold.

Those three days were torture for me, and no less a torment for Jacob. He was hoping the babies were his, and at the same time telling himself it was impossible.

On the afternoon of the third day, the head of the testing agency delivered the sealed envelope in person.

The room went dead silent. My mother-in-law, rocking the babies, saw it and didn't dare make a sound.

Jacob took the envelope. His hands were shaking a little.

He drew in a deep breath, and as if it took everything he had, tore the seal open.

He pulled out the report, skipped straight past all the complicated numbers, and landed on the conclusion at the bottom.

His pupils shrank, his eyes almost bulging out of his head.

I forced myself up and pointed at the report on the floor. "Jacob, what does it say? Say something!"

Jacob didn't answer. He just pointed a shaking finger at the paper on the floor, and it was a long time before he forced out a single line:

"This... this... is the machine broken?"