Rory performs a tiny jig of a happy dance that is heavily influenced by flossing, then sticks her tongue out at me with a wink. I tongue-wink her back — yes, that is what we call the expression, and yes, it sounds totally gross and lewd. But what can I say, I’m wrapped around this kid’s finger so I go with it.
And then she’s out of my care, onto the first element of the high ropes course that begins at the top of the climbing wall.
I coil up the now-slack line that had just been holding Rory’s weight, unclipping myself from my harness. Turning and heading through the back door of the climbing wall into the little storage room within, I stash my belaying equipment.
A wave of sadness looms out of nowhere, sweeping over me as I stand inside the dim cubby. I shove a hand against the wall as I stagger against its onslaught, gasping.
Fuck. It’s been a week since the doctor gave me the news, but it hasn’t gotten any easier. Infertile. The word sounds so antiseptic. Nothing like the storm of emotion my new reality has brought with it.
I’d gone in for my regular exam of my lady bits, expecting it to be like every other uncomfortable but routine gynecological appointment. But when I’d shared, wholly unconcerned, that my periods were irregular and sometimes didn’t happen at all, everything changed.
The doctor ordered a bunch of tests.
The results? Something I don’t understand about my hormones being so out of whack that I’ll likely never be able to bear children of my own.
A thing that I hadn’t realized I wanted until it got taken away.
It doesn’t help that one of my best friends is unexpectedly pregnant. And while my mind is so happy for Amelia and Tatum, my heart hasn’t quite gotten on the same page yet.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket. I draw it out, and a group text from none other than Amelia, sent to myself and our other two friends, Kate and Emmy, gleams back at me.
How’re you all holding up? she says.
Great!!! I type back.
Which is a straight-up lie.
But I’m not ready to talk with my friends about this. Not yet, at least. And even if I was, revealing info of this much gravity over text seems like the wrong way to go.
With everything, we haven’t gotten to see each other nearly enough, Amelia writes. Who wants to go see that new rom-com that’s coming out this weekend? Tatum and I are dying to.
I groan. A friend hangout with one of said friend’s significant other? I’m not sure I’m ready for that.
Kate enters the conversation. I’m so in for a night at the movies! Can I bring somebody too?
Def, Amelia replies.
Now it’s a friend hangout with two dates. Great.
I wish I could, but I have a seminar all weekend. Next time! Emmy writes.
Amelia sends a massive text of poop emojis.
Hattie, you in? Kate asks.
I stare at the phone, not sure what to say. While a night with my friends might be just what I need, I’m not sure I’m ready to spend it with them and their guys. Not now.
I stand for a long moment, watching the cursor in the text box blink, awaiting my instruction. Then I set the phone’s screen to black and shove it back in my pocket. I stomp out of the storage nook, sadness turning to irritation at my friends.
Which, I’m very aware, is ridiculous and unfair. My friends haven’t done anything wrong. Hell, I haven’t even told them my news.
Heading toward the few school children left waiting to take their turns on the climbing wall, I force my lips into what I hope is a genuine smile and try to shake off my cloudy mood.
Ben
I take my time strolling from my parked car to the high ropes course area at Outdoor Adventure. I’m fully aware that I’m early to pickup — again — but I can’t resist trying to get a glimpse of the bold new things my daughter is trying and learning here.
The staff are used to me arriving early and have stopped trying to wrangle Rory into readiness before it’s quite time. One of them — Rory’s favorite, Hattie — even told me that she appreciates my habit, and that most other parents are either too frazzled or too disinterested to be as engaged as I am.
Hattie might be my favorite too. Even the memory of her compliment makes my chest inflate with pride.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Frowning, I consider ignoring the damn thing. I know exactly who it is — my mother. Usually after hours calls are from the construction firm I’m an engineer for. But this time, I’m certain it’s not work.
I let it ring a few more times, then give in and draw the phone from my pocket. If I ignore her now, I’ll only be making it worse for myself later.
“Hey, Mama,” I answer. “What’s up?”
I know full well what’s up — the annual family get-together. It happens too often to truly call it a reunion, I think, but for those of us who are local, it’s required.
My mother doesn’t even say hello. “We’ll be seeing you and Aurora this weekend, right?” She uses the full name Rory’s mom insisted on for our daughter. My late wife had a studied passion for all things Disney, and Sleeping Beauty was her favorite princess.
“Of course. You know Rory and I never miss it.”
She makes a little huffing sound. I love my mother, but the woman has a penchant for drama. “Well, one never knows.”
I roll my eyes. “We’re a sure thing, Mom. Do you need me to bring anything?”
“A woman would be nice. When’s the last time you went on a date?”
Wincing, I shake my head at myself. I walked right into that one. “I meant food. We could bring a salad maybe, or dessert —“
Mom plows on unheeding. “It’s not right, you know, for poor Aurora to be motherless —“
Now it’s my turn to cut her off. “Rory is not motherless. She has a mother who just happens to be dead. And we’re doing just fine.”
“You’re doing wonderfully, darling. I just think that having a bit of help and companionship would be nice.” She sounds like a kicked puppy now, and I suppress a groan of frustration.
I know exactly how this weekend’s family get-together is going to go. Mom aches to see me with a woman, and while she stops herself from expressing this desire all year long, she lets loose each year at the annual shindig. The rest of this week will be filled with calls like this one. And once Rory and I are actually in my parents’ shady backyard, Mom won’t be able to stop nagging me about it.
I know she does it out of love. But it’s fucking annoying.
“You know what?” I bark. “I am bringing someone.”
Silence descends on the other side of the phone, giving my brain time to catch up with my mouth. What the hell did I just do?
“You are?” Mom says in a hushed voice.
“Um, yeah.” I don’t sound nearly as sure as I did a moment ago, even to my ears.
“Well,” she says, “that will be a refreshing change.” She sounds like she doesn’t believe her own words either.
I sigh, rubbing my hand over my face. I’m not sure what I’ve gotten myself into, but I’m ready for the call to be over. “We’ll see you this weekend, okay? Let me know if you need me to bring any food.”
“Thank you, dear. Love you.”