Page 67 of Say My Name

“That means no.”

“It means I’m here, on time, with every instruction followed. Sleep wasn’t on the list of requirements.”

I almost smile. “You checked.”

“Of course I checked.”

The receptionist calls my name and ends the conversation for us.

Elena’s fingers tighten once on the sleeve of her coat. “I’ll be here.”

“I know.”

I follow the receptionist through a locked door. She confirms my identity twice, checks the label against my wristband, and explains a process I could repeat from memory. Everything is careful, private, and efficient.

It also has nothing to do with Elena.

That was the point of choosing the clinic. A medical procedure allowed her to pursue pregnancy without making sex part of our agreement. It protected her right to decide what happened to her body and kept my position at work from influencing her.

Then Elena asked me upstairs Saturday.

I complete what they need, wash my hands, and return the labeled cup at the designated window. My part is finished within minutes.

Elena is still in the same chair when I return, although her coat is beside her now and both hands are locked around her phone. She glances at me, then at the hall I came from.

“Everything okay?” she asks, her voice carefully neutral, a tone I’ve heard her use right before challenging a number in a meeting.

“Yes.”

Color moves into her cheeks, and she looks away. “Good.”

I could make that answer sexual. Saturday night, I would have done it just to watch her react. Here, with other patients waiting and Elena about to carry every physical part of this attempt, I sit beside her and leave the opening alone.

Our shoulders are separated by a few inches. After Saturday night in the elevator, it feels like miles.

The nurse who calls Elena’s name checks both our IDs again and leads us into a consultation room. She reviews the monitoring results with Elena, confirms that the procedure is aligned with her verified ovulation window, and points out the projected dates for the next cycle in the file.

I don’t like seeing a second window documented before we have completed the first attempt. I understand why the clinic plans ahead. Elena needs clear dates, and neither of us benefits from pretending one procedure guarantees anything.

I still don’t like hearing it.

“We’ll place a tentative hold based on this projection,” the nurse says. “The actual timing may change when we monitor the next cycle.”

Elena nods. “That’s fine.”

The nurse looks between us. “Do you have any other questions?”

I have several, none the nurse can answer.

Elena says, “No,” clipping the word off. It’s the same finality she uses to shut down a negotiation.

The nurse gives us the instructions for the twelve-day wait, confirms Elena’s follow-up appointment twelve days from now, and tells her they’re ready for the procedure. I stand when she does.

“I’ll be outside,” I say, the words a poor substitute for what I really want, which is to go with her.

She meets my eyes. “Okay.”

She follows the nurse through another door, and I return to the waiting room.