Chapter 33 The Results
The waiting was worse the second time.
Damian had his own diagnosis now. Blood thinners every night. A specialist on speed dial. But the children's results were still out there, somewhere in a lab, waiting to change everything.
I woke at three in the morning on the sixth day. Damian was not beside me. I found him in the yellow room, sitting on the floor, staring at the paper stars. His phone lay on the rug, dark and silent.
"Couldn't sleep?" I asked.
"Every time I close my eyes, I see their faces. Lily's bandage. Rose's blood in that vial. Max hiding under the chair." He looked up, his eyes red. "What if I gave them a time bomb?"
I sat beside him, pulling my knees to my chest. "Then we defuse it. Together."
"You make it sound so simple."
"No. I make it sound like love." I took his cold hand. "Because that's what this is. We don't get to choose what we inherit. We only get to choose how we fight."
He leaned his head on my shoulder. "Stay with me?"
"Always."
We sat in the dark, the stars glowing faintly above us, until the sun rose and painted the room gold.
The call came at noon.
Damian was at work. I was in the kitchen, making sandwiches for the children's lunches. Waffle was chewing a toy at my feet. My phone rang. The pediatrician's office.
"Ms. Blackwood, this is Dr. Thompson. I have the test results for the children."
My heart stopped. I set down the knife. "Are they okay?"
"Rose and Leo are negative for the Factor V Leiden mutation. They do not have the disorder."
I exhaled, tears springing to my eyes. I leaned against the counter. "And Lily? Max?"
Dr. Thompson paused. I heard her turn a page. "Lily tested positive for the mutation. So did Max."
The room tilted. I gripped the counter edge. "What does that mean for them?"
"At their age, the risk is very low. They may never have any complications. But they will need monitoring as they grow. Blood tests once a year. Watching for unusual bruising or swelling. They may need blood thinners later in life, but not now."
"How do I tell their parents?"
"You tell them the truth. And you remind them that this is manageable. Lily and Max can live full, healthy lives. They can run and play and go to school. They just need a little extra attention."
I thanked her and hung up. Then I called Damian.
He answered on the first ring. "The results?"
"Rose and Leo are negative." I paused, steadying my voice. "Lily and Max are positive."
Silence. I heard him exhale, long and slow. "Both of them?"
"Both of them."
"I did this. I gave this to them."
"No." My voice was firm. "You gave them life. This is just a piece of their story. We'll manage it."
He was quiet for a long moment. "I'm coming home."
"Come home."
When he walked through the door, his face was gray. The children were at school. The house was empty except for us and Waffle, who wagged his tail at Damian's feet.
He stood in the middle of the living room, not moving, not speaking.
"Damian."
"I should have told you. Before we had children. Before any of this. I should have been retested."
"You were tested. They said you were clear."
"Medicine changes. I should have known better." His voice cracked.
I went to him and placed my hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "You didn't know. None of us did. But now we do. And we're going to be okay."
He closed his eyes. "How do I look at them? Knowing what I gave them?"
"You look at them the same way you always have. With love. With hope. With the knowledge that you'll do everything in your power to keep them safe."
He pulled me into his arms and held on tight. "I don't deserve you."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it keeps being true."
That evening, we told the children.
We gathered them in the living room after dinner. Leo and Max sat on the couch. Lily and Rose sat on the floor with Waffle. Damian knelt in front of them, his hands on his knees.
"You remember the blood tests we had?" he began.
Leo nodded. "The needles were scary. I cried."
"Yes. The needles were scary. But we got the results today." He looked at each of them in turn. "Rose and Leo, you don't have the thing in my blood. You're clear."
Rose let out a small breath. Leo smiled, relief washing over his face.
Damian continued, his voice softer. "Lily and Max, you do have the same thing I have. It's called a clotting disorder. It means you'll need to see doctors sometimes. It means we'll have to be careful. But it doesn't mean you can't run and play and be kids."
Lily touched her bandaged forehead. "Is that why I fell?"
"No, sweetheart. That's why you need stitches. The two things aren't related."
Max looked at his hands. "Am I going to die?"
Damian's face crumbled. He pulled Max into his arms, holding him close. "No. You are not going to die. You're going to live a long, wonderful life. We just have to be a little more careful, that's all."
Max buried his face in Damian's shoulder. "Promise?"
"I promise."
Lily climbed into my lap. "Mommy, am I okay?"
I kissed her hair, breathing in her sweet smell. "You're okay. We're all okay."
Rose sat quietly, watching. Then she said, "So we're still a family. Just a family with doctors."
I laughed through my tears. "Exactly."
That night, after the children were asleep, Damian and I sat on the porch. The air was cool. The stars were out.
"Max asked if he was going to die," he said. "I told him no. But I don't know that for sure."
"None of us knows anything for sure. Not about our children. Not about ourselves." I leaned into him, feeling his warmth. "But we know we'll fight. We know we'll be there. That's what matters."
He kissed my forehead. "I'm scared."
"Me too." I looked at the stars. "But we're scared together."
He held me tighter. "Together."
We sat in silence, the night wrapping around us. Somewhere inside, our children dreamed. Somewhere in the distance, the city hummed.
The results had come. Some good. Some hard. But we were still standing.
And tomorrow, we would keep going.