“Why, just why,” I shouted as tears were flowing down my face. I let my foot rest more on the gas pedal letting the engine’s roar reflect the one of sadness escaping from my lungs. Why did she have to bring that up? She knows we can’t have kids. She knows the clinic denied our health insurance and the adoption agency wants more money than we have.
“Why even ask to try again…why?”I sobbed. My voice was hoarse and just whispered to the empty car and my hollow insides. I was quickly distracted from my thoughts when the sound of police sirens pierced the air. Damn, the police.
I pulled my black Dodge Charger over to the graveled side of the empty highway and tried to wipe all the tears away before the cop saw me. I rolled down my window as the Cop’s boots crunched the ground. I looked at him as he reached my door, but his flashlight blinded me.
“Do you know how fast you were going, sir?” The cop questioned breathing deeply looking for the scent of alcohol.
“No, Officer.” I replied. Hope it’s not a huge ticket.
“The speed limit is forty. You were going seventy-five miles an hour. I’m going to need to see your license, insurance, and registration, please.” The Cop informed me.
“Yes, sir,” I nodded, pulling my wallet out of my back pocket and rummaging through it to retrieve my license and insurance card. I handed them to him and opened my console compartment to retrieve the final item. As I was searching he struck up a conversation.
“May I ask what’s bothering you? There are only a couple of reasons for being that much over the speed limit.”
“I had an argument with the wife about us trying again for kids. We want kids, but we've been unable to have any.” I replied realizing it wasn't in the consul and went looking in the glove compartment.
“That’s tough. I wish you the best, but next time please, go for a walk. Don’t speed and get yourself or others killed.” He stated as I found a folded piece of paper I assumed to be my registration. I handed the officer the paper and he opened it. A smile spread across his face.
“This isn't your registration, but I’m sure it’ll make you happy.” He grinned as I gave him a confused look. He gave it back to me and I read the paper.
Dear Mrs. & Mr. Jason Harrell,
I am pleased to inform you there was a mix up in paperwork and you are eligible for in vitro fertilization. As an apology we will wave our start-up fees. To contact us please call our office during normal business hours.
Sincerely, Dr. Emma Bronson
“I owe my wife an apology.” I smiled.