I place my hands on her thighs. “Yeah, baby, we are.”
“I don’t like fighting with you.”
“I don’t like it either.”
Her forehead rests against mine and she clutches my T-shirt. “This has been so much harder than I ever imagined. I hope we never have to go through it again.”
“I thought you wanted two kids.”
She lifts her head to find my eyes again. “I did. I do. God, I don’t know anymore. All I know is my mind’s a mess. The messiest it’s ever been, and some days, I can’t think straight enough to even know whether you’re being an asshole or not, let alone to think about doing this all over again.” She pauses. “How many kids do you want?”
If she’d asked me this before we started IVF, I would have said two. Now, I’d be the happiest man alive to have one child. I’m not keen to watch Birdie go through this again. “I just want to be a dad, and I only need one kid to do that. If you want more than one, I’ll stretch to two, but don’t ever ask me for three.”
Her smile washes over me. “I love you, Winter.”
“I love you, too.” Those three little words don’t come close to describing what I feel for Birdie. Even when she’s fighting with me, I still feel more love for her than I can verbalise. I agree wholeheartedly that this IVF cycle has been harder than I imagined. I was prepared for a hard time, but when you’re watching the woman you love and would die for go through what Birdie’s gone through, and you’re unable to take any of the burden, the word “hard” is lacking. I too hope we never have to go through it again.
13
Birdie
* * *
“Birdie,” Winter says as I turn up the TV in our private room in the IVF clinic. “Lie down and take some deep breaths.”
“No,” I say, wondering if he’s right. Maybe I do need to take some deep breaths. I feel like I could do with the oxygen. “I’m going to help you with this. I told you I would. I just wanna make it as easy for you as possible. I mean, no man wants to be jerking off while everyone walking past the room can hear him.”
We arrived at the clinic at 7:00 a.m. this morning for our egg collection and had to wait hours to be called. There are ten other couples here today doing the same thing, which is apparently a lot. I’m kinda pleased they’re busy today; it means the collection room is busy, and as a result, we were asked if Winter wanted to create his specimen in the private room we’ve been assigned. I just love the way the nurse said “create your specimen.” Winter didn’t react, but I acted like a fucking idiot and giggled. Just once, but it was embarrassing. I swear it’s a combination of the drugs and my nerves causing me to act so weirdly. Since we were shown to our room, I’ve been unable to relax. I mean, they left a Do Not Disturb sign on the door. Hello, is that not announcing to the world what’s going on in here? I feel for Winter. This has to be awkward for him, and I just want to make it as unawkward as I can; hence I’ve turned the TV up in preparation for what we’re about to do.
“Don’t worry about me,” he says. “I don’t give a fuck if the whole of Melbourne hears me jerk off.” He glances at the television. “And the last thing I need is to do it to an Everybody Loves Raymond fucking soundtrack.”
“You’re just saying that to calm me down.” I cock my head. “I mean, isn’t this weird for you? It’s fucking weird for me.”
He comes to me and takes hold of my waist. Pulling me close, he says, “It’s a weird way to conceive a child, that’s for damn sure, but everyone in this place is here chasing the same goal. I feel no shame to pick up that cup, go in that bathroom, and do what I need to do to make our baby. Just like you shouldn’t feel any weirdness about what you’re going to do.”
I grip his biceps, not worrying whether I’m hurting him. He came home bruised and beaten two nights ago, and it all looks sore to me, but nothing slows Winter down. I mean, the man is still recovering from his knife wound and getting on with what he has to do; some bruises don’t worry him. “How do you always know the exact right thing to say to me when I’m a mess?”
He brushes his lips over mine. “Sixteen years of knowing you will do it.”
“Okay, we need to do this. We’re running out of time.”
Winter grabs the cup and turns the TV volume back down. “You rest. I can do this on my own.”
“I don’t want you to have to.”
“Birdie,” he starts, and I know from his tone what he’s going to say. He’s going to try to boss me into lying on the bed, but that’s the last thing I’m about to do.
“No,” I cut him off. “It’s my turn to boss you into something.” Grabbing his hips, I try to spin him around while saying, “Turn this ass around and go into the bathroom, and let me help you.”
His lips pull up in amusement. “You should try to order me around more often. It’s getting me hard.”
“Good. That’s our mission.” I lift my chin towards the bathroom. “Go.”
I follow him into the bathroom and close the door behind us. At the exact moment the door clicks shut, a cramp hits me, and I reach out and grip Winter’s forearm, squeezing it as the pain shoots through me.
Panting with the cramps, I close my eyes and wait it out. I already feel atrocious thanks to my swollen ovaries that are fighting for space inside me. I’ve ballooned so much that my jeans don’t fit me. I had to buy stretchy pants to fit my huge belly.
“Fuck,” Winter says, trying to get me to sit on the toilet.
I shake my head and open my eyes as the cramp eases. “I’m good.”
His eyes hold the same frustration that his voice does when he says, “You’re in pain. Don’t tell me you’re good.”
I take hold of his face, my eyes pleading with him to understand that I really want to do this. “Please let me do this for you.”
“You’ve already done enou—”
I press my lips to his and kiss him. Slowly. Deeply. With all the love I have for him.
He holds back to begin with, but it doesn’t take long for him to surrender. I sense the moment he gives in, and I slide my tongue over his while threading my fingers through his hair how he likes.
“Fuck,” he groans, his lips leaving mine. “I’ve missed this.”
I have, too. IVF has resulted in me feeling unsexy. When strangers are probing you with dildo-cams multiple times a week, and you’re dry and too sore for sex, and moody, the last thing you want is to get naked with your husband. Not even to kiss him and just make out. I hate this, but it’s the truth of the journey. And it’s why I have this overwhelming need to do this with Winter today.
I undo his belt and jeans before reaching for his dick. Stroking him, I move my mouth to his ear. “When we’re done with all this, I want you to spread me out on our dining table and eat me like you used to. I want your tongue, and your fingers, and your dick every-fucking-where. And after you’ve fucked me every way you want, I’ll fuck you in all the ways I want.”