The waiting was the worst part. If she was going to do this she could have warned him it was going to take the better part of the day. I have important things to do. He thought. Roxanne sat next to him. She squirmed in the seat. She was uncomfortable. Ryan’s impatience made her more uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to act like it’s the end of the world.” Roxanne said. Ryan slipped an arm over her shoulder.

“I’m worried; that’s all.” He said.

“Tell me about it.” Roxanne replied. She looked at her feet as she moved them nervously on the floor in front of her.  “You think I’m enjoying this? If you do you’re nuts.” She continued.

He thought she should have taken precautions. He wanted to wear protection; she told him it didn’t feel natural “taking a shower with a raincoat on” is how she described it.  That conjured up an image of a little boy in shiny bright yellow coat with metal clasps, matching hat and boots. Just the thought of a condom made him flaccid.

They had been doing it for months.  She was beautiful, tall lean and all legs, breasts and lips. Her alabaster skin, silky smooth beckoned him. Natural brunette, her hair flowed like cream through his fingers. Her wanting eyes begged for attention.  She assured him she couldn’t get pregnant. Her cycles were erratic. Sure they didn’t happen for months at a time. The gynecologist told her she wasn’t ovulating.

When she finally broke the news she hadn’t been feeling well. Thinking it was the flu, pregnancy was the last thing on her mind. “You’re joking Roxanne, right?” He said, looking at her with a playful gaze. She liked practical jokes. This was a doozy.

“I wish I was joking; really.” She said. “Do you think I wanted this?” She continued. He wasn’t sure – not at that moment.

“How long?” He asked.

“That’s what the doctor’s going to tell me. But if I had to guess I’d say a couple of months. Remember my periods were unpredictable.” He held back a response. He wanted to grab the gynecologist by the throat.

“Roxanne.” The receptionist called. As she stood Ryan stood with her. As she moved towards the door to the examination rooms he followed.

“Where are you going?” She asked.

“I’m coming back there with you.” Ryan answered. Determination chiseled into his face.

“Only if you promise to behave yourself; I don’t want to be looking for another doctor.” She admonished.

“I want to be with you. Can’t the father of the baby be with the mother when the doctor gives the verdict?” The word ‘verdict’ fell like a rock. Roxanne elbowed him. He doubled over feigning pain.

“I don’t think an expectant mother is supposed to be beating on the baby’s father. I think that’s trauma. I read that expectant mothers are supposed to keep the baby from experiencing trauma.” Ryan said. Roxanne smiled; the realization that her boyfriend might be warming to the thought of being a father. He’d been distant since she told him of the possibility of a bun in the oven.

The receptionist opened the door and ushered them in. Leading them to one of the examination rooms she promised the doctor would be with them shortly before closing the door and leaving them alone. They made small talk while they waited. Ryan talked about baby furniture in a freshly painted nursery.

“You know I’m not ready for this; but then again who is?” He said. Her stare fell heavily on him.

“You think I’m ready?” Her expression dampened. He had a tendency of making life mostly about him. She hoped the advent of the baby would bring him around to a broader thought process.

“I’m sorry Roxy; I didn’t mean to make it all about me.” He swallowed his pride as he spoke.

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. The doctor opened the door with a flourish and entered the examination room.

“I’m doctor Winchester.” The doctor introduced herself to Ryan. “How are you feeling Roxanne?” The doctor took Roxanne’s wrist and checked her pulse.

“Lift your blouse.” Roxanne complied.  The doctor warmed the end of the stethoscope before applying it to several places on her abdomen.

“We’ll need a urine sample.”

“I gave one to your nurse before I came back here.” Roxanne answered.

“Roll up one of your sleeves; we’ll need a blood sample. I want to make sure there’s nothing to worry about.” After drawing blood the doctor placed a cotton ball and tape over the injection point.

“Doc, she wasn’t supposed to get pregnant.” Ryan said.

“It’s wonderful isn’t it? What a pleasant surprise to know you’re bringing new life into the world.” The doctor answered.

“But you said she wasn’t ovulating.” Ryan said as images of the child in the raincoat danced mockingly across his mind.

“She wasn’t – at least not when I examined her.” Winchester turned laying a cold stare on him.

“I thought it meant she couldn’t get pregnant.” He said. This time the doctor turned to Roxanne whose complexion reddened with embarrassment.

“I told Roxanne that she should not read anything negative into my statement. I told her that ovulation could begin without warning.”

“Is that true?” Ryan’s voice danced up the vocal scale. Roxanne looked away; scared to engage. “You let us have sex over and over without ever telling me there could be a chance you’d get pregnant?” He asked.

“I didn’t think…” Tears halted her response.

“You’re an intelligent man. You couldn’t figure that out without a script?” The doctor defended. Ryan turned on her.

“Who asked you? This is between me and my woman.” Ryan said. Winchester steeled herself.

“You’re in my house; you’ll act appropriately.” The doctor said.

“Or what?” Ryan asked smugly, arms folded across his chest. The doctor snatched the receiver from the handset hanging on the wall. Punching three numbers she listened.

“Get security up here stat.” Before she could drop the handset back into the cradle the cord was around her neck.

“I’ll choke the self-righteous snot out of you.” Ryan whispered in Winchester’s ear.

“Stop it Ryan. What are you trying to prove?” Roxanne asked.

“Doc’s got an attitude. She needs fixing.” He responded. Roxanne watched for a long moment hoping he would release. The doctor flailed, struggling to extricate herself.

“Ryan she’s turning blue you’re going to kill her!” Roxanne screamed. Rushing to the door she fumbled with the handle trying to turn it with sweaty hands. As she pulled the door open she heard a gurgle; an asthmatic struggling for breath. Turning she saw blood spurting from Ryan’s neck; a pen jutting from the wound. The doctor slipped to the floor, a tangle of phone cord still wrapped around her neck, the receiver in her lap. As she fought with the cord her assailant pawed at the projectile in his neck. A combination of fear, shock and weakness from the mounting loss of blood stymied his attempt to save himself.

Roxanne watched the gore as the father of her child fought for life in front of her. The doctor, ligature marks on her neck, scrambled to the dying man. Jerking the pen from the wound she slapped a palm against the puncture wound.

The receptionist and nurse assistants canceled appointments for the balance of the day as the police took statements, the coroner bagged the dead and the doctor and her patient recovered slowly from the shock of the unexpected events. Roxanne would face the pregnancy alone; the doctor would apply make up to her neck in an effort to maintain an air of normalcy until the swelling and black and blue marks faded.