Nightmare (Part 2)

(Note: This is the second of two 300-word uber-short stories that I wrote for the Refined Fool Brewing Co. contest where selected stories were printed on their craft beer labels. Let me know if you get one.)

I came home from work to find my pregnant wife sitting at the dining room table with hospital pamphlets strewn out before her.

“Did the appointment go okay?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she replied. “The baby’s growing just fine.”

This was a relief. She had been worried about the baby’s lack of movement which had me a bit nervous. But at a week shy of five months pregnant, I had figured that was par for the course. Call it lazy man’s intuition.

“Guess what?” she said, with a fishy expression of both excitement and exasperation. “You know how you said that you didn’t want to learn the baby’s sex yet?”

Before she could say anything else, my hand reflexively shot up in the air, making the international sign for, For-the-love-of-God-please-shut-your-trap-right-now. “No no no no no. Don’t tell me anything.”

My wife responded with an exaggerated nod. “I know. That’s what I said.”

I let out a massive sigh of relief.

My wife continued. “I told the doctor that we don’t want to know until next week, when you’ll be there with me.”

“That’s great. Thanks so much, babe.”

Suddenly, that suspicious expression of both excitement and exasperation crept back over her face. “And then the doctor said, ‘Okay, so I’ll pretend I didn’t see it.’ Can you believe that?!”

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