My sister announced her pregnancy with my husband at t my birthday dinner, expecting me to collapse. Instead, I raised a toast. I revealed the results of the fertility test he took last month, and suddenly, everyone knew. The thing about revenge is that it tastes better when served with a smile. That’s what I kept telling myself, as I sat at the head of the table in LeBlanc, surrounded by the people I thought I could trust most in the world. My name is Andrea, and this was supposed to be my 30 birthday dinner.
The crystal glasses caught the light just so, making the expensive champagne sparkle like tiny stars. My husband Rene’s hand rested possessively on my shoulder as he raised his glass. To my beautiful wife, he said, his voice carrying that hint of charm that once made me weak in the knees.
Happy birthday darling. My sister Rose shifted in her seat, her perfectly manicured fingers fidgeting with her water glass. She hadn’t touched her champagne, which should’ve been my first clue if I hadn’t already known what was coming.
Actually, Rose interrupted just as everyone was about to drink. I have an announcement to make. My mother Linda beamed already knowing.
Of course, she knew. She always knew everything about Rose first. I’m pregnant.
Rose’s voice rang out across the private dining room. The silence that followed lasted exactly two seconds before she added the punchline. And Rene’s the father.
I felt Rene’s hand tighten on my shoulder. Not in guilt, but in preparation for my reaction. They all expected hysteria, tears, maybe even a scene.
The restaurant staff hovered nervously at the edges of the room. I took a slow sip of my champagne. That’s interesting, I said, my voice steady.
Very interesting indeed, Andrea, my mother started. Her tone already taking that scolding edge she’d perfected over the years. Don’t make a scene, I smiled reaching for my purse.
Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it mother. In fact, I have my own announcement to make. I pulled out a cream-colored envelope.
You see, I’ve been wondering why Rene and I couldn’t conceive for the past three years. Rose’s triumphant smile faltered slightly. Rene’s hand left my shoulder.
Andrea, this isn’t the time, he said quietly, warning in his voice. Actually, it’s the perfect time. I unfolded the medical report with careful precision, because according to Dr. Matthews at the fertility clinic, my dear husband has what they call, a zoospermia.
Zero sperm count. I looked directly at Rose. In layman’s terms, he’s completely infertile.
The sound of Mary’s fork clattering against her plate echoed through the room. Rose’s face drained of color so quickly, I thought she might faint. That’s, that’s impossible, she stammered.
The test must be wrong. That’s what I thought too, I said, pulling out a second envelope. So I had him tested again, different clinic, different doctor, same result.