By 5:53 p.m., we were inside an exam room.
I knew that room.
I knew Dr. Stevens.
He had taken care of Emma since she was born. He had talked me through fevers, ear infections, ordinary falls, and the kind of anxious questions first-time parents can produce at two in the morning.
I had watched him remain calm through all of it.
Then I handed him Diane’s orange bottle.
He read the label.
He read it again.
His jaw tightened.
His fingers began trembling enough that he braced the bottle against the metal table.
“Do you know what this is?” he asked me.
I shook my head.
I told him Diane had called them vitamins.
He put the bottle down harder than he meant to. The table rattled, and Emma flinched.
