Thirty-Four
Having coffee with Rory at lunchtime had left Samira feeling warm and fuzzy all afternoon. Ironic, that she’d never date a guy ten years younger, usually, but Rory far surpassed her expectations in the maturity stakes.
His proposal had been cute and reeked of old-fashioned chivalry, and while she’d never seriously take him up on it, it had been nice for him to ask. He wanted to be a part of this baby’s life, and that meant a lot.
When she’d fled Melbourne over a decade ago, she never contemplated moving back. She’d established a great life in LA and loved living there. But the moment she’d discovered she was pregnant, she’d known she’d be facing some tough decisions about her living situation. And now with Rory wanting to be a part of their child’s life if she wanted him to be . . . and with her mom here . . . it made sense that she seriously consider moving back home.
Hopefully, she’d have Pia’s support too, and she was about to take the first steps to mending their fractured relationship.
Pia couldn’t resist rocky road, so Samira had ducked out to Haigh’s to purchase their delicious chocolate/marshmallow/nutty combo. They’d rarely argued as kids, but if they had a disagreement, Samira always softened up her cousin with chocolate.
With the last patient gone and the receptionist locking the front door after exiting, Samira headed for Pia’s office, rocky road in hand. Pia had been avoiding her, coming in late, leaving early, and booked solid with patients when she was here. The fact she hadn’t left yet—Samira had checked with the receptionist—gave her hope that she may be ready to talk.
She stood outside Pia’s door, steeling herself, when it opened and she came face-to-face with her startled cousin.
“Thought you might be hungry after a busy day,” she said, holding out the rocky road.
Pia’s eyes lit up as she spied her favorite chocolate, but the light soon faded when she glanced at Samira’s stomach.
“You can’t avoid me forever, Cuz,” Samira said, hating this awkwardness between them. “We need to talk.”
Pia hesitated, her hand on the door, and for one second Samira thought she might slam it in her face. But Pia sighed and opened it wider, beckoning her in. When she made no move to take the chocolates, Samira placed them on her desk, unsure whether to sit when Pia remained standing.
“Pia—”
“Don’t.” Pia held up her hand. “I’m so ashamed I can barely look at you. The way I reacted the other day when you told me about the baby . . .” She shook her head, a swath of glossy black hair half hiding her face. “I’m mortified.”
“It was a shock. I get it.”
“No, you don’t.” Pia swiped her hair away and finally eyeballed her, her eyes filled with regret and embarrassment and sadness. “I’ve been consumed with having a baby for the last few years. It’s debilitating, and it’s ruining my marriage . . .”
A sob escaped Pia’s lips despite her doing her utmost to compress them, and Samira stepped forward to bundle her cousin into her arms.
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” she said, unsure what she was apologizing for but wanting to offer whatever comfort she could.
She’d asked Pia when she’d first got back how Dev was dealing with the fertility problems, and Pia had said he was coping. She’d taken her at her word. Then again, if anyone had asked her fourteen years ago, she would’ve said the same, not wanting to articulate how increasingly distant her husband became when she didn’t fall pregnant. In Dev’s case it could be harder, considering he was the cause of the infertility and so much of a male’s macho was caught up in reproduction.
Pia clung to her, crying softly like she used to as a kid, making snuffling noises rather than full-on sobs. When she quieted, she backed away and Samira released her, but guided her to the nearest chair before pulling up one next to her.
“You okay?”
“Not really,” Pia said, her eyes puffy and her nose red. “I’ve behaved appallingly, and I’m really sorry.”
Samira waved away her apology. “I knew you would take it hard, finding out about my pregnancy. I remember what it was like, being surrounded by fertile women proudly showing off their baby bumps while I tried everything to get pregnant.”
“All the more reason I should’ve been happier for you,” Pia said, her expression downcast, guilt twisting her mouth. “I hate to admit it, but when you told me, I was totally consumed by jealousy, and all I could think was how unfair it was, why you and not me.”
“I get it.” Samira took hold of Pia’s hands and squeezed in reassurance. “I hated not being able to talk to you about all this, especially when I knew how hard it must’ve been for you.”
“I’ll be okay.” Pia sniffed, several times, before continuing. “And our marriage is okay, I think, but Dev’s losing patience with the whole process. He’s withdrawing from me. I can feel it.” She blinked rapidly. “Our sex life is rote bordering on nonexistent, he’s not interested in date nights anymore . . .” She shook her head. “He’s not keen on this alternative-therapies retreat, but I booked it as a way for us to reconnect and to show him that conceiving doesn’t have to be all about procedures and hospitals.”
Pia gnawed on her bottom lip before giving her head another shake. “The retreat also discusses other options, like adoption, something Dev hasn’t been too keen on.”
“Why not? There are many ways to have a child.”
“I know, but I think the infertility thing is wearing him down. He’s never said it, but I know he feels guilty . . .” Pia trailed off, her voice barely above a whisper and filled with so much sadness. “He said to me once that this entire process is emasculating, having to use donor sperm to father a child. I reassured him, but there’s a palpable distance between us now, and it feels like nothing I say or do can reach him.”
Samira was the last person qualified to give advice, considering her own marriage had imploded under the weight of infertility, but she wanted to do whatever she could to support Pia. She’d thought it strange that in all the time she’d been back in Melbourne, she hadn’t seen Dev once. She knew he’d been traveling for work, but the fact Pia hadn’t tried to arrange a get-together meant they were probably struggling and Dev wanted to avoid her family.
“Pia, I’m going to ask you something, and know it’s coming from the right place.” Samira pressed a hand over her heart. “If IVF doesn’t work and Dev doesn’t want to adopt, would you be happy with just him? The two of you together for the rest of your lives?”
Samira’s stomach went into free fall, because she saw the answer written all over Pia’s face before she answered.