Chapter 17: The Clinic Diagnosis
The clinic door swung shut behind them with a soft, definitive click, sealing off the buzzing fluorescence and the smell of despair. They walked down the bleak hallway, their footsteps echoing on the cracked linoleum. Dominic’s hand was on the small of Valentina’s back, a firm, guiding pressure. She felt unmoored, her body humming with a new, terrifying knowledge.
Pregnant.
The word bounced around her skull, a pinball of panic and a dark, forbidden thrill.
They pushed through the heavy exterior door into the late afternoon glare. The world outside was too bright, too loud, too normal. Cars passed. A kid skateboarded down the sidewalk. Life went on, oblivious to the cataclysm inside her.
Dominic didn’t speak until they were in the Charger, the engine rumbling to life. He pulled out of the lot, his movements precise, but she saw the tremor in his hand as he shifted gears. He drove aimlessly for ten minutes, turning corners without pattern, just putting distance between them and that room.
Finally, he pulled into the empty back corner of a vast, sun-bleached supermarket parking lot. He cut the engine. The silence was absolute.
He stared straight ahead through the windshield, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
She wasn’t sure she could form words. “I’m… scared.”
“Yeah.” The single syllable was gravel.
“And… not.” She looked at her hands, folded in her lap. “On the mountain… you said…”
“I know what I said.” He turned to look at her, his eyes shadowed. “I meant it. Every fucking word. But this… this is real, Val. This ain’t a fantasy in a car. This is a baby. My baby. Our…” He couldn’t finish it.
“I know what it is.” Her voice gained a sliver of strength. “I’m not stupid. I know how it happened. I was there.”
A harsh, choked sound escaped him—almost a laugh. He ran a hand over his shaved head. “Christ.”
“What do we do?” she whispered.
He was silent for a long time. The sun baked the car’s interior. She watched a bead of sweat trace a path from his temple down the corded side of his neck.
“We’re keeping it.” He said it not with joy, but with the finality of a judge pronouncing a sentence. It was a decision made of granite. “It’s family. Nothing is more important than family. You know that.”
She did know that. It was the only scripture their messed-up lives had ever been built on. The relief that flooded her was immediate and shocking. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath, waiting for him to suggest another, unthinkable path.
“Okay,” she breathed.
“But.” He turned fully in his seat, capturing her with his gaze. “We gotta be smart. Smarter than we’ve been. We can’t just… drift. We need a plan. A place. Papers. Money.”
The practicalities fell from his lips like a to-do list from hell. Each one was a brick in the wall separating them from the rest of the world.
“Your mother,” he said, the words dragged out of him.
Valentina stiffened. Catalina. Her aunt. Her mother. The ghost in every room. “What about her?”
“She’ll know something’s up. You livin’ with me, not comin’ home from school…” He shook his head. “I gotta talk to her. Before she comes lookin’.”
“She’ll hate me.”
“She won’t hate you,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction. “She’ll hate me. And she’ll be right to.” He sighed, a heavy, exhausted sound. “One problem at a time.