My pulse soars. “No. I mean like appearance wise.”
He looks nervously at his nurse then back to me. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“I mean…you look at vaginas all day, right?”
His throat clears. “Well, yes. It comes with the territory, so to speak.”
“Well, are there any new trends you’ve seen recently? Any fancy waxings I should be made aware of?”
Janet jumps in, likely trying to save her boss from the possibility of a lawsuit. “New beau?” she asks, grinning at the doctor’s discomfort.
I nod.
“You have nothing to worry about, doll. Looks just fine. One of the best I’ve seen. He’ll be a lucky man.”
“Right. So…” The doc grabs his clipboard. “You can schedule that mammogram we talked about with the front desk. They’ll send you straight to imaging, and you can get this out of the way today. Shouldn’t take but a few minutes. Have a nice day, Mrs. Watts. And uh…” He scrubs a hand over his face. “Good luck with the suitor.”
Liam: How’d it go?
Nya: Fine. Doc says I have a nice pussy.
Liam: Did she now?
Nya: He.
Liam: He’s as good as fired.
Nya: Such a cave man. He did send me for my first mammogram. Said it’s the new thing to get them done in your early thirties to have a baseline for later. I didn’t think it could get more uncomfortable than someone poking around in your vagina, but having a woman’s hands all over my breasts takes the cake.
My phone starts buzzing in my hand as I make my way to the car. “Hello?”
“I thought a mammogram was done in a machine?”
“Well, hello to you too, Liam.” I laugh. “Didn’t know you were so fascinated with female sexual health. Yes, the mammogram is done with a machine, but a tech has to position your breasts on said machine. I just didn’t realize how much contact was involved. It was quite awkward.”
“Damn,” he hisses. “Mrs. Rollins let me down.”
“Who the hell is Mrs. Rollins? Are you on drugs?”
“School counselor. I feel like my life could have been so different had I known a job existed where you do nothing but touch titties all day.”
Oh. My. God. “You do realize most of their patients are older women? And it’s all very technical. It’s not like you can squeeze them like stress balls.”
“Hey. I’m an equal titty opportunist. I’ve obviously missed my calling. If ever a job existed for me, I feel like this would have been it. You know they say: when you love your work… you never work a day in your life.”
“I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”
Liam
Surprise!
“Are you packed yet? We have to take off for the airport the minute Ellie gets in from school to be sure we don’t miss our flight.”
“Just about,” I lie. I’m actually reading the “to do” list I found sitting on the counter next to my new stainless steel coffee machine. This woman and her lists. It’s a mile long with all but two things checked off. One of which she’s on her way out of the door to take care of: drop Midge off with Hannah.
“Really? Because your clothes are still all over the bed, and I believe you might need this.” She dangles my toothbrush between two fingers in front of my face.
“Thanks, darlin’.” After retrieving the brush, I plant a smooch on her lips. “I’ll be done before you get back. Swear.”
“You know I don’t like to be late…” Her warning eyes stay fixed on mine as she backs out of the room, only turning when she’s reached the front door.
I wait for the sound of her motor turning over before printing my name at the bottom of her list in bright red ink so it can’t be missed.
Our plane touches down in Dallas a little past eight, but after collecting our luggage and renting a car, we don’t arrive at my parents’ ranch in Copper Hill until well after ten.
“They’re here!” I hear mom shouting to my father as her footsteps draw nearer. It’s Thanksgiving eve, and mom must’ve already started preparing tomorrow’s meal. The scent of browned onions and seasoned meat seeps into the crisp night air, making my stomach growl.
Nya’s sweaty hand grips mine as we make our way up the wood porch steps. She hasn’t seen my family since before the divorce and has convinced herself that they all blame her, even though that couldn’t be further from the truth. Trust me… if they fault anyone, it ain’t her.
“Welcome home, kids.” Momma steps out onto the porch in her signature fuzzy robe and slippers, smothering Ellie with hugs and kisses. Her dark hair is in a knot on top of her head, where her reading glasses are propped for safe keeping.
It gets pin-drop quiet when she pauses her fawning, looking over Ellie’s shoulder to stare at the woman latched onto my arm, her delicate face shrouded in disbelief.
“Surprise!” Ignoring the nerves roiling in the pit of my stomach, I stretch my lips into a smile and nudge my wife, so she’ll do the same.
“Nya.” Her name tumbles out of Momma’s mouth in a whisper as her blue eyes well with tears. She looks like she’s seen a ghost. “What are you—Oh, it doesn’t even matter. I’m so happy to see you, honey.”
“Hi, Nadine.” My wife shoots me a scathing look before falling into my mother’s outstretched arms. “He didn’t tell you I was coming, did he?”
“What?” I shrug my shoulders like a doofus, recoiling from my wife’s evil stare. “I thought we would surprise them.”
“That only works if I’m in on the surprise,” she grits.
“Still getting on like an old married couple, I see,” Momma muses, with happy tears lining her cheeks. She has no idea.
No. Literally… she has no idea.
I sneak past the two most important and frightening women in my life, squeezing behind them to get through the front door. Nya’s anger is a tangible thing. I can feel her evil glare on my back as it dawns on her that my parents know nothing of our wedding, either.
Once I’m safely inside and feeling a little less cornered, I can relax a little. It’s no surprise that the inside already looks like a winter wonderland. My mother has a slightly unhealthy obsession with Christmas. The tree is already up and fully decorated. Looks like she cut it out of a Good Housekeeping article and pasted it into her living room. There’s a fire crackling in the fireplace, and Mom’s Christmas village is all laid out on the bookshelves and countertops. Childhood memories of Christmases spent in this house come flooding back. Funny how no matter how many years I’ve spent away, my parents’ place still feels like home.
“Heya, Pops!”
My dad closes the footrest to his recliner, hopping to his feet to greet me. He’s wearing a red flannel and work jeans covered in dirt and grass stains and worn at the knees. He smells of wood shavings and leather. Running the ranch has kept him young and in his prime. At fifty-five, he still looks and acts like a young buck. The only evidence of his age is the full head of gray hair and salt-and-pepper beard covering his face.