Author's Note: I do not own RockStar Games, GTA V, or any of its characters. No copyright infringement is intended. The following story is for entertainment purposes ONLY. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental.

Summary: Michael's family keeps a secret from him, but he finally gets them to talk. Once he learns what it is and who it's about it raises more questions than answers. TAKES PLACE AT THE END OF THE GAME assuming the gamer chose Option C.


Chapter 1: PUT TO THE TEST

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Amanda's Sentinel's parked just outside Dollar Pills pharmacy, grocery, and drug store in Vinewood located on Hawick Avenue. She left Tracey in the front seat, who didn't want to come inside, while she headed in to get what she needed.

"I'll be back soon," Amanda assured her daughter.

To pass the time Tracey listened to the radio, specifically the Non-Stop Pop station, while scrolling through her iFruit phone. Before she knew it, her mom returned with a small paper bag that she handed off to her. Amanda buckled up then checked for clearance over her shoulder while shifting gears to back out. The drive home between mother and daughter was silent as Amanda pulled the car into the driveway, parked, and cut the engine. She gathered up her belongings, including her keys, purse, and cellphone, ready to hop out of the vehicle until Tracey began crying.

"I'm so sorry, mom."

Amanda sat back down, leaning over as far as the console would allow to embrace and comfort her daughter.

"Honey, it might not seem like it, but everything is going to be all right."

She dug around in her purse to search for the travel size Kleenex, offering Tracey a tissue that she used to dry her eyes and blow her nose.

"Thanks," replied Tracey.

Amanda smiled at her while lovingly rubbing and patting her daughter on the shoulder. "Now, can we head inside?"

Tracey sniffled. She looked over her shoulder in search of her father's vehicle. "Is daddy home? I don't see his car in the drive or noticed it parked on the street."

Amanda offered her another tissue. "No. He had a meeting with Solomon Richards and won't be back until later."

Tracey flipped the visor so she could check out her appearance in the mirror. "Good. I don't think I'm ready to face him just yet." She looked like she'd been crying; her make-up's streaked, and her eyes were puffy. They both went inside headed straight for the kitchen where Jimmy was. He stood staring into the refrigerator with the door wide open.

"Your father isn't here, is he?" asked Amanda.

Jimmy closed the fridge door. "Uh, no. What's in the bag?" He reached for it, but Tracey took it off the counter before he had the chance to get it. "Oh, touchy!" he teased. Tracey placed it on the kitchen table, taking a seat.

"Leave your sister alone!" Amanda scolded.

"Geez! What's the BFD anyhow?" he asked.

"Amanda grew furious calling him by his full name, which is how he knew he was truly in trouble. "JAMES CHRISTOPHER DE SANTA!"

Jimmy straightens up. "Chill, mom. I'll back off. Just ? what's going on?"

His mother visibly calmed herself before speaking again. "The discussion we are about to have is strictly between the three of us and does not leave this room. Understood?"

Jimmy could tell from the urgency in his mom's voice that whatever the situation was, it was serious. Their discussions cut short as the garage door sounded, from Michael pulling in, coming home sooner than anticipated. He was ready to announce his presence until he heard voices in the kitchen. He came in on the tail end of their "private discussion".

Amanda turned to look at her son. "As for you, mister. Keep your lips sealed. Not a word of this to your father."

Jimmy nodded his head in agreement.

Michael moseyed around the corner into the kitchen. "I thought we were done keeping secrets from each other. Now you got the kids keeping things from me?" He walked up to his wife, kissing her on the cheek.

"No. It's not like that..." Amanda claimed, trying to talk her way out of it, but it was no use.

Michael states, "I just heard you tell Jimmy to keep his lips sealed about something. So what? What are we keeping from dear-old-dad this time?" His wife, daughter, and son all clammed up, averting their eyes from looking in his direction. "Nobody wants to tell me what's going on? Fine. We'll turn this into a guessing game."

Tracey looked over at her mom with pleading eyes hoping she'd intervene. But truth be told, Amanda felt just as helpless as her daughter in this situation. Michael circled each of them like a predator stalking its prey while drilling them with questions. He refused to let them leave the kitchen until he got a straight answer.

"Who's first? Let's start with... Jimmy." His son's heart raced a little, and his palms became sweaty as his father approached him. "Did you get fired from Burger Shot?"

Jimmy warily replied, "No."

Michael eyed him intensely, searching his son's face for telltale signs of lying. "I believe you. Moving on. Amanda." Michael walked up to his wife, doing the same to her. "Are you cheating on me again?"

She took a deep breath in before she earnestly replied, "No."

Michael leaned in closer towards her while narrowing his eyes. "I believe you."

Tracey knew she was next. She felt so uneasy but tried to remain calm as her father approached her. "That just leaves you." He placed both hands on his daughter's shoulders before asking, "Did you drop out of college?"

A wave of relief washed over her knowing he guessed wrong. "No," replied Tracey.

Michael walked back over towards the fridge in sight of everyone. "I believe you." She was hoping that would be the end of it. Only then did she realize he swiped the small paper bag off of the kitchen table. His daughter's eyes grew wide with fear. "Since no one wants to tell me what's going on. I think I have my answer. What have we here?" asked Michael. He proceeded to open the bag revealing its contents. His eyes grew wide. There was shock and anger behind the tone of her father's voice. "A... pregnancy test?!"

Before Tracey could answer for herself, her mother interjected. "Yes, my period was later than usual. I figured it was stress, but then I thought maybe not, so I got the test." Amanda decided to sell her lie. She performed for her husband, even going as far as placing a hand on her lower abdomen while making her way over to him.

Michael's demeanor softened, as did his tone. "If you thought you might be pregnant, why didn't you just say so?"

"I was worried what you would think; that you thought we were too old to have another baby."

Her husband drew her in for a hug. "Well, let's find out."

Amanda quit embracing him. "Right now?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. She's taken aback. That wasn't the reaction she thought she would get from her husband.

Michael turned the box over, glancing at the directions. "Yeah, why not? According to this, it doesn't take more than a few minutes." He and his wife, head upstairs to take the test. "Wait here, kids," their father called from upstairs. "Who knows, maybe when we come back down, I'll have news that I'm gonna be a dad again."

Thankfully their parents were not in earshot when Jimmy mumbled a remark under his breath. "Yeah, more like a granddad." His sister glared in his direction, elbowing him in his side. "OW!"

Tracey was a nervous wreck, and her brother wasn't helping. "You asked for it."

He rubbed his side where his sister hit him. "Moms plan to cover for you is great except for one small flaw. How's it gonna look when she doesn't have a baby in nine months, and you do?" Tracey hadn't even thought about that as a look of distress came over her. Jimmy usually took pleasure in his sister's misfortune, but this time he didn't. "I'm sorry, I'd say dad won't kill you, but I honestly don't know."

Meanwhile, upstairs in the master bathroom, their parents were awaiting the results of the pregnancy test. Amanda was seated on the toilet with the lid down while Michael was standing. He looked anxious while the timer counted down on his phone.

"That's it, what does it say? Are you pregnant?" His wife tentatively picked up the test to review the results, but he got grabby eagerly taking it from her to see for himself. "It's... Negative."

Amanda stood up, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Are you disappointed?"

Michael let out a long, drawn-out sigh. He turns to look at his and his wife's reflections in the mirror. "Maybe we are too old to have another kid." His wife kisses him on the lips then he smiles at her. "Then again, maybe not."

She playfully slaps him on the shoulder. "Michael, be serious!"

He laughs. "I am, Nah, I'm not disappointed. I'm happy with the kids that we've got." So is she. Amanda reaches for the knob of the bathroom door to let herself out, but Michael stops her. "Unless... well, what about you? How do you feel about having more kids?"

Her back still turned to him; she stood frozen in her tracks while coming up with a quick reaction and response off the top of her head. Her shoulders slumped, and her head went down as she lied. "There was a time when I thought that I did, but that time has passed."

Michael didn't like how quickly his wife's demeanor turned sad. She started to cry. "Mand? Mandy, don't cry." As he comforted her, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and couldn't believe he bought it. Then again, she did put on a hell of a convincing performance.


That night at the dinner table, the De Santa's hardly exchanged a word among them. The only words uttered during dinner were, "Pass the salt."

Michael leaned back in his chair, patting his full stomach. "That was delicious. I don't think I could eat another bite."

Amanda got up from the table to collect their plates, cups, and utensils.

Jimmy quips, "Stop acting like mom cooked when all we did was order pizza." He trudged upstairs to retire to his room to play video games.

Michael looked across the table at his daughter, who had a spaced-off look. "Trace? You all right?"

She snapped back to reality at the mention of her name. "Hmm? Oh, yeah, fine. I'm going upstairs, too. I don't feel too good."

Her father got up from the table, leaning on the kitchen island. "What's with her?"

Amanda threw the dishtowel at him. "I'll go find out. You do the dishes."

As she headed upstairs, her husband called out to her, "I THOUGHT THAT'S WHY WE HAD A MAID!"

His wife knocked on their daughter's bedroom door. "Honey, it's mom. Can I come in?"

While waiting for Tracey to answer her, Amanda heard Michael turn on the television and the distinct sound of ice put into a glass. She doesn't care if he does the dishes or not; she just hoped he would stay downstairs. Tracey finally unlocks the door cracking it open just enough to let in her mom.

Amanda found her daughter curled up in a fetal position on the bed, so she sat on the edge. "Sorry about earlier. I'll go to the drugstore and get you another test."

Tracey sat up. "I know he won't feel or react the same way when I tell him that it's me."

Her mother spoke in a sympathetic tone. "Honey, your father..."

Tracey grew upset. "No, mom, we both know how he is; that he tends to overreact to things. I still can't believe you're as cool as you are about this." She rests her head on her mom's shoulder. "I want you to tell me that everything is going to be okay. Even if it's not."

Amanda held her daughter's hand. "Sweetie, I love you, and everything is going to be okay. When the time comes, your father will understand."

Tracey turned to look at her mom. "How? How do you know he won't disown me or kick me out?"

Her mother sighed. "Because he's your father, and he loves you."


Thursday, October 16, 2014

The next morning, Tracey's head's buried in the toilet while she puked up her guts. Michael sees as he passes by the bathroom. "Aw, honey, I thought we talked about this." He makes his way over to his daughter, who appears flushed and drained of all of her energy. He lovingly rubs her back in a circular motion to try to soothe her. "You don't have to throw up to look skinny. You are beautiful just the way that you are, and I don't know who convinced you otherwise. But believe me when I say, "You're not fat". He offers himself to support her in helping her up off the floor to a standing position.

Tracey hugs him, clinging on tighter than usual. "I love you, daddy."

Michael hugs her back. "I love you, too."

She stores the memory of this happy moment in her mind for later so she can replace it with the angry one for if and when Tracey's finally ready to tell him that she's pregnant.

Michael asks, "Are you gonna be okay?"

Tracey looks at him reassuringly in the eyes, nodding her head "Yes."

Her father heads downstairs to the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of freshly brewed coffee with cream and two sugars. Amanda comes down, asking if he has seen her exercise ball. "Yeah, it's in the living room." His wife turns to head in there, but he stops her. "Hey, c'mere."

She obliges, acting coy, trying to be flirty. "Yes, darling?" Michael chuckles at her, sets his cup of coffee down, and places a hand on Amanda's forehead. "What are you doing?" He runs his hand across her forehead, caresses her cheek, and moves it to her throat, proceeding to squeeze just under her jawline. She gets a little nervous from the look in his eyes, under the impression he's trying to choke her. "Michael..."

He releases her from his grip. "Nope, you don't feel warm like you're running a fever, and your glands not swollen. You're not sick."

Amanda backs away from him, confused. "Sick? No, I'm not..."

He interrupts her. "Did you or Jimmy get food poisoning from dinner last night?"

She doesn't like this line of questioning but knows she better respond. "I can't answer for our son, but no, I didn't. Why do you ask?"

Tracey stood frozen at the top of the stairs eavesdropping on her parent's conversation.

"I'm asking because our daughter is upstairs sicker than a dog," said Michael. Amanda's heart raced as he continued. "At first, I thought that it was just induced vomiting from her eating disorder. Then I speculated on food poisoning. But figured if that were the case, why aren't we ALL sick." As Michael stepped closer towards his wife, she could sense the tension forming in the room between them. "I am only going to ask you this once." Amanda swallowed hard, knowing exactly what he was getting at. "Are you," but what her husband said next was the last thing she would have guessed he'd say. "Giving our daughter some sort of diet pills?"

Amanda was flabbergasted and outraged at her husband's false accusation, but also a little relieved. "How dare you! Of all the things you accuse me of doing, you think that I would do something THAT irresponsible?"

Tracey ran to her bedroom, slamming the door closed behind her. She felt awful. And not just because of the morning sickness. She knew that her mother could only keep covering for her for so long. Then came a knock on her door. She didn't even think to ask who it was before granting them permission inside.

"Hey, are you feeling any better?" It was her father.

She rolled over, unable to look at him. Amanda came upstairs in search of Tracey and heard her husband's voice through their daughter's bedroom door. She listened in.

Michael stood at the foot of Tracey's bed with his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Your mother is better at this sort of thing than me." He paused, unsure of what to say or do next. "Listen, I love you..."

That was a poor choice of words as he watched his daughter retreat further into herself. Tracey buried her face deeper into a pillow to try to drown out her sobs.

She spoke, but her words were muffled, and her father couldn't understand what she said. Michael had her repeat herself. "Really?"

Tracey invited him to join her on the bed.

Between him and his wife, Michael wasn't the most perceptive, but he could tell that Tracey needed a hug. "Of course, I love you. Why wouldn't I?" It broke his heart seeing his only little girl so upset.

Amanda pressed her ear closer to the door but heard nothing. She silently prayed that her daughter was summoning the courage to tell her father she is pregnant, and for her husband to have the patience and understanding that came with such a delicate subject matter.

Her son Jimmy came out of his room wearing his work uniform. "Mom?" He laughed at the sight of her with her ear pressed up against his sister's bedroom door. "What are you doing?" It dawns on him. "Is dad in there? Is Tracey doing it? Is she telling him?"

His mother gestured for him to keep his voice down, speaking in a loud whisper. "Shhh! What do you want?"

"Can I borrow your car to get to work?"

"Sure. My car keys are on the hook in the kitchen." When he didn't leave right away Amanda wondered why. "What are you still standing around for? I told you, you could use my car."

Jimmy scoffs. "And miss this? Are you kidding me?" He pressed his ear against the door to listen in too.

Tracey composed herself using her hands to wipe her tears. Her father could tell that whatever she wanted to say was making her nervous because she was trembling. Michael tried to reassure her that it was all right. "You can tell me anything." His remark made his daughter laugh, and he enjoyed seeing her smile. She took a deep breath in before telling him.

Another moment of silence passed as Amanda and Jimmy stood there. Why doesn't she say something? She thought. Then she heard her husband scream through the door. "YOU'RE WHAT!?"

Jimmy ran down the stairs. "Later!"

His mother called after him in a loud whisper. "JIMMY!"

However, when Amanda turned around Tracey's bedroom door was wide open with her husband standing in front of her. He was pissed; he looked fuming mad like steam was ready to come out of his ears and nose.

"Michael, I know what you're going to say..." began Amanda.

He put up a hand to stop her, his voice commanding and booming as he yelled. "No, I don't think you do. Do you mind telling me why you failed to share with me that OUR DAUGHTER IS PREGNANT?"

His wife stood there searching her mind for an answer, but she knew no matter how she responded that it wouldn't be good enough for him.

Michael calmed down, letting out an exasperated sigh. "I'm sorry, I just..." He trailed off redirecting the conversation at their daughter. "Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure that you're pregnant?"

Tracey scrolled through the apps on her iFruit phone, pulling up Flo, an app that tracks your period, ovulation, and pregnancy. "Yeah. Unless this thing is off."

Michael scoffed. "Aw, geez, you're trusting an app to tell you whether or not you're pregnant. Whatever happened to going to the doctor or taking a pregnancy test?"

Amanda chimed in. "She would have if not for you assuming I was the one who was pregnant." Her husband decided to take control of the situation, whipping out his cellphone and began dialing a number. "Who on earth are you calling at a time like this?"

He gestured for his wife to lower her voice. "I'm on the phone. Hi, this is Michael De Santa." He stepped out of the room while taking the call.

Tracey looked at her mother. "What is he doing?"

She shrugged, joining her daughter on the bed. "Your guess is as good as mine." A few moments later, Michael came back into the room, and Amanda's curiosity got the better of her. "Well, are you gonna tell us who that was or not?"

"Yes," he replied. "It was the doctor. I called to set up an appointment for Tracey to be seen by an OBGYN to know for sure."

Their daughter began crying again.

"Oh, honey," cooed Amanda trying to comfort her.

"No, mom, they're happy tears." Tracey got up from the bed to hug Michael. "Oh, daddy you really do love me!"

He used his thumbs to wipe the tears away that shed down his daughter's cheeks. "Of course I do."

Tracey sniffles. "You're not angry?"

Honestly, it's difficult for him to say. "I was. But now that I've had some time to think it over..."

Amanda interjects. "He still is."

"I am not!"

"Michael, I know you!"

"ENOUGH!" shouted Tracey. She let out a groan of frustration. "ARGH! You guys argue over like everything! Even when it's not about you! If I knew this would be that big a deal I wish I never would have told either of you I was pregnant!"

Her mother tries to get her to calm down. "Easy, if you are pregnant I'm pretty sure stress can't be good for the baby." Amanda got up from the bed. She stood beside Michael who wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulder while smiling trying to be convincing.

He made Tracey a proposition. "How's this? If you are pregnant from now on your mother and I won't argue."

Their daughter stared at them in disbelief. "Really? You two won't argue anymore?"

Her father shook his head in agreement. Amanda held up her right hand. "We promise. No more arguing."

A light bulb went off in Tracey's head. She wasn't the brightest but she knew how to recognize a good thing. She quickly dug through her nightstand in search of something. "Prove it. Swear on the Bible."

In true Michael fashion, he stared at his daughter like she was joking. In turn, his wife shot him a look back that said "If you love our daughter you'll do this." One more willing than the other, both of her parents placed their hands on the Bible while swearing to never argue with each other again.


Michael peeled back the covers before getting into bed. He lay down next to his wife cuddling with her, as they both lay awake.

"No arguing for nine months. Think we can pull it off?" Amanda asked. Her head rests on his chest so she felt it vibrate as he laughed. "What? What's so funny?"

He stopped laughing and sat up raking his hands over his face. "Oh, I'm almost afraid to ask."

She sat up too. "Ask me what?"

He laughed harder than composed himself turning to look at her. "Not you, Tracey. This is a hell of an afterthought but who's the father?" He could tell by the elongated pause followed by the puzzled look on Amanda's face that she didn't know herself.

"Y'know, I didn't think to ask."

Michael mocked her. "You didn't think... our daughter comes home from college. Knocked up! And you ? didn't think to ask. Are you serious?" Amanda knew their discussion was turning into an argument so she got up. "Where are you going?"

She took a bed pillow for herself before leaving the room. "Downstairs to sleep on the couch."

Michael's eyes were heavy with sleep as he sat up in bed. The clock read 2:47 AM; it was the middle of the night and he had to use the bathroom. On his way there he heard Tracey get sick again so he went to check on her. Amanda was already with her holding back their daughter's hair as she dry-heaved. He stood in the doorway in nothing but his wifebeater and boxer shorts with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Tracey lifted her head holding her stomach. "Why do they call it morning sickness if it lasts all day?"

Her mother rubbed her back. "I don't know." Amanda looked at Michael. "Satisfied?"

He rubbed his eyes. "No, it doesn't satisfy me to see our daughter this way. I know there's nothing I can do." He joins them in the bathroom leaning up against the wall. "I hated seeing you this way when you were pregnant."

Amanda helps Tracey stand up. "You gonna be okay?"

Tracey shook her head. "I think so, I wanna lay back down. I'm so tired."

Her mother ushered her back to her room, tucking her in like she did when she was a little girl, and kissed her "Goodnight" on the forehead. "If you need me I'm right across the hall," Amanda said, closing Tracey's bedroom door.

"Does this mean you're coming back to bed?" Michael wondered because he always slept better with her by his side.

"Yes, I can't stand sleeping on the couch being that far apart knowing that she needs me."

Michael set the alarm for 10:00 AM figuring that gave them enough time to get ready since the doctor's appointment was scheduled at noon. He and his wife lay back down to get some sleep while they both still could. He closed his eyes but before he knew it the alarm went off. He reached over to stop it noting Amanda was no longer in bed beside him. Rather than get up he rolled over and fell back asleep. A while later he felt himself being shaken awake. He lifted his head off the pillow to see who was disrupting his sleep.

It was Amanda. "C'mon! We've gotta hustle if we're gonna make it on time!"

He glanced at the clock; it was 11:30 AM. He flew out of bed to get ready not bothering to shave or brush his teeth, knowing they were already pressed for time. He slapped on some deodorant, threw on a clean smelling shirt, and shorts, and slipped on his flip-flops.

Michael stood at the bottom of the stairs calling out. "LET'S GO LADIES!"

His wife came up behind him. "We're ready when you are."

Michael reached for his chest, she scared him half to death. "Geez! Give me a heart attack why don't you?" They both head towards the garage. "Is Jimmy coming?"

"Nope, he's got work," replied Amanda.

Tracey stood impatiently waiting. "What took you so long daddy?"

"I overslept but I'm here now let's go!"

Michael pressed the button opening the garage door then unlocked the car to get in. The ride to the doctor's office was filled with silence apart from music playing on the radio specifically the Los Santos Rock Radio station. They sat idle at an intersection waiting for the light to change. Amanda threatened to change the dial but Michael stopped her.

"Hey use the presets."

"Sorry."

Tracey snickered in the backseat. Michael looked back at her through the rearview mirror. He flashed back to when she was a little girl and use to ride in a car seat. He missed the days when he'd glance back there to check on her and wonder what she was laughing about. He'd ask, "What's so funny princess?" He knew of course because he used to make funny faces at her in the mirror while they were stuck at a light. Tracey would giggle swinging her legs in her seat. She always gave the same answer, "You daddy, you!"

He never imagined he'd drive that same little girl to the doctor to find out if she was pregnant. Michael's flashback ends when a car from behind blares its horn alerting them the light has changed. The car sped past them. Amanda could tell how much restrain it took for her husband not to roll down the window, and shout some sarcastic remark. Instead, Michael took a deep breath in and reached for his wife's hand to hold for the remainder of the ride.

Having reached their destination, Michael pulled into a parking lot then let everyone out. As they approached the entrance of the building to head in, he comments to his wife. "This brings back memories, I bet."

Amanda smiles at him. She recalled the day she found out she was pregnant with Tracey. She was surprised but overjoyed nonetheless. Her husband holds the door open as they all go inside. They notice the waiting room was predominantly made up of all women. The De Santa's took a seat with Tracey in the middle and her parents on either side of her.

"Do you want either of us to go back with you?" asks Amanda.

Michael volunteers his wife. "You go back with her. I don't mind waiting out here." He searches an end table for some suitable reading material but decides against it, noting they were all women's magazines.

A nurse comes out holding a clipboard glancing at it once more before calling out a name. "Tracey... De Santa?"

Tracey and her mom got up to follow the nurse. Amanda handed Michael her purse, not wanting to take it back with her. He knew better than to place it on the chair next to him or the floor, so he just held it in his lap for safekeeping. A heavily pregnant woman sat across from him, reading a magazine, and looked at him questionably.

He smiled politely back at her. "Hey, how's it going?"

The nurse leads Tracey and Amanda to an exam room, informing them that the doctor would be with them momentarily. Tracey seated herself on the doctor's table while her mother took a seat in a chair. Between the two of them, Amanda didn't know who was more nervous, her or her daughter. She knew they could endure a prolonged wait despite being set up in a room. Luckily, it wasn't long before the doctor knocked on the door.

Tracey didn't know if she should answer. "Should I tell them to come in?"

Her mother answered for her. "Come on in!"

The doctor entered the room, introducing herself. "Hello, I'm Dr. Courtney Barnes." She sat on the stool, rolled over to the computer, and logged in. She double-checked all of the information in comparison to the nurse's notes. "Being a first-time patient, would you please verbally confirm the following information as I recite it off to you?"

Tracey nodded her head in agreement.

"Address?"

"Portola Drive, Rockford Hills, Los Santos."

"Date of birth?"

"June 20, 1991."

"Emergency contact?"

Tracey thought for a moment. Who could she depend on in an emergency? Between her parents, her mother felt like the more natural choice. Amanda was the safer of the two, less likely to harm someone should something go amiss.

"Amanda De Santa."

"Relation?"

"Mother."

It went on like that for a while as Tracey confirmed any and all medications she took or was allergic to, her medical history, and her first monthly. She asked to see a calendar to be sure her period math was correct.

The doctor informed her, "You wanna date back to the first day of your last period."

It dawned on Tracey that she had her phone with her so she pulled up the Flo app.

Doctor Barnes asked, "Has it been more than a month?" Tracey showed the doctor her phone for herself. The doctor chuckled. "The app is only so accurate. It's a good thing you came to see me." She concluded her examination of Tracey estimating her at five weeks along. "You'll need to schedule another appointment in a week or so, so I can reexamine you. I can schedule you at 8:00 AM, 10:00 AM, or noon, which time do you prefer?"

"Afternoon I'm not really a morning person."

Doctor Barnes types into the computer. She gave a cheerful reply "Okay, I have you scheduled for your next appointment at noon Thursday, October 24. See you then! The nurse will show you out."