I’m just hyperaware of my body and Wes, and his body, and the things we’re hiding under our clothes.
We pack up, check the room for belongings, check out, and have breakfast. The waitress recognizes Wes even with his “celebrity disguise,” but she’s cool about it and doesn’t make a scene. When we’re done, he tips more than double the total of the bill—his signature on the line is illegible. He signs the back of the other receipt as an autograph, with a little note saying thank you for letting him eat in peace.
We head out, then, and it’s great to be back on the road.
We’re a good half an hour into the drive when my phone dings—I’d let it die while I was sick, and it’s charging in the console cupholder.
The message is from Mom: You said you’d call, Jolene. Are you okay? Things with Wes are good? I miss you.
I glance at Wes. “I should call her.”
He nods. “Go for it. Normally I’d try to give you privacy, but there’s not much I can do about that while I’m driving. If you want, I can pull over and stand outside?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s fine.”
I call her, and she answers before it rings once. “Jolene! I miss you so much, baby girl! How are you?”
“I’m okay, Mom. I’m good. I’m great!”
She laughs. “Okay, good, or great? Which is it?”
“I didn’t call because I had a couple days of not feeling well. But I’m better now.”
She knows what that means. “How did he handle it?”
“As well as could be expected. It hit like it always does, pretty suddenly. But he stayed with me and wasn’t, like, weird about it. We were at a hotel, so there wasn’t much for him to eat or to do, though, so hopefully we’ll get to his place in LA before I feel like that again.”
“Are you…” A pause, as she considers how to say what she’s thinking, and I can almost hear what she’s going to ask before it comes out. “How is everything with him? You’re in the car with him, I assume.”
“It’s amazing, Mom, and yes, I am.”
“Am I on speaker?”
“No.”
“Is he…he’s not…” She drops her voice. “He’s not pressuring you to do anything you’re not ready for, is he?”
“Mom, no. He’s not. It—he—this—us, this whole thing…it’s better in every way than I could even have dreamed of.”
She’s silent a moment. “Are you…are you being safe? We didn’t talk about that, specifically, and we should have.”
“God, Mom.”
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, first, and second, don’t god, Mom me about this. It’s important.”
I huff, glance at Wes, who’s doing his dead-level best to pretend he’s not hearing everything I’m saying. My instinct is to whisper, because part of me is embarrassed. But I don’t.
“Mom…” I sigh. “Okay, fine. Here’s the truth. We haven’t quite gotten to…that, yet, if you must know. But when we get to that point, we’ll have that conversation. Okay?”
“It’s not really a conversation, Jolene. You use protection. It’s very, very simple.”
I groan. “Actually, Mom, it’s not. Not for me. You realize I’ve spent the better part of eleven years undergoing chemotherapy and radiation.”
“Yes, Jolene, I know. I was there for all of it.”
“Well, you do realize that that means my reproductive system is fried, right? Like, I’m totally sterile.” I wince, because that feels harsh and unpleasant to say out loud, in front of Wes, like this. “Dr. Miller and I talked about this, the appointment before last. So, for me, Mom, it’s really not that simple.”
“There are still diseases, and no matter what doctors say, there’s always a chance, even a remote one, of—”
I cut her off. “Mom, you just have to trust me, okay? I will be safe in everything I do. I promise.”
“Okay, okay. You’re right.” A silence. “Well, I love you, and I miss you. Call me when you stop, or when you get to LA, or something. And maybe call Grandma, too. We filled her in on what’s going on, but I know she’d like to hear from you.”
“Yeah, I was thinking about her while I was resting. Is she…I imagine she doesn’t approve of what I’m doing.”
A laugh. “You know your grandmother.”
“Meaning, she doesn’t but she’d never say as much.”
“Right.”
“Well,” I say, “I’ll call her. I love you, Mom. And…don’t worry, okay? I’m exactly where I want to be, doing exactly what I want to be doing with exactly the person I want to be doing it with. Not to say I don’t miss you and Dad, but…”
She laughs. “I was nineteen and in love once, so I understand. Just don’t forget to call us once in a while. You know we’ll worry.”
“And you know you don’t have to.” I have to say it. “If anything changes, I’ll call you right away. Or I’ll have Wes call, if I can’t. Okay? I promise.”
“All right. Well, I love you. I’ll let you go.”
“I’ll call again soon, I promise.”
“Tell Westley I said hi.”
“I will. Bye, Mom.”
I end the call and set the phone upside down on my thigh. Glance at Wes. “You don’t need to pretend you didn’t hear.”
A shrug. “I’m not. That conversation was between you and your mom. Not my business.”
“Certain parts of it do pertain to you, though.”
He nods. “True.” He eyes me, bobs his head to the side. “I did wonder. About…um, your fertility, and the treatments and all that. But it felt a bit forward to ask.”
“Understandable. It wasn’t something I was super eager to talk about. But, yeah, you heard. I’m sterile.” A shrug, more nonchalant than I feel. “I, um, I think I always have been, seeing as I’ve been getting regular treatment since before adolescence. I’ve never had a period. My body went through some parts of puberty. You know, body development and stuff like that.” I laugh self-consciously. “Although, I think I got stunted in that department.”
“You’re perfect and beautiful.”
I smile, shake my head. “You’re blind, but sweet. Thank you for saying that.” I wave my hand. “But yeah, I’m…infertile. No periods, no fertility, none of that.” I hesitate. “Which Mom was asking about because she was telling me that we need to be careful. To use, um, protection.”
He nods. “I mean, I guess I assumed we would, if and when we got to that point.”
“My point I was making to my mother was that there’s not any real need, in my case.” A long, quiet look at him. “Other than, um, protecting against, like, STD’s and such, I guess. Which I was sort of figuring it would be safe to assume wasn’t an issue with you.”
He nods. “You’d be correct in that. I’ve always been safe, the actual kind of few instances where, um, it was…necessary.” He looks at me a moment, then back at the road. “I didn’t want to assume that would happen with you. I’m still not assuming anything. I have to admit I hope it does happen with us, at some point, but that’s a big step and I understand if you…have some reservations, or want to take your time taking that step. And I certainly had assumed we’d use protection.”