“Well,” I began, thinking about group from the other night and the honesty I’d spewed at Destiny, “pissed off about sums it up.”
Janice’s face morphed into a sympathetic expression that was as fake as her tits. “Tell me a little more about that. Why are you pissed, and what can you do about that feeling?”
Good Lord, this was going to be an even bigger waste of time than the support group.
The next hour was spent with me saying as little as possible and Janice doing everything in her power to justify The Fertility Act. Every word I uttered was a waste of breath, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Malika and how she’d refused to back down when Destiny challenged her during our group session. It had been pointless, and it hadn’t made her feel better, but as if stayingsilent would have made her complicit, she’d refused say nothing. I felt the same way, which was why my session with Janice could have best been described as a verbal boxing match in which no one came out on top.
When it was over, Janice worked her face into a Stepford wife smile and said, “I think we made a lot of progress today, and I’m looking forward to next month. In the meantime, work on focusing on the things you’re thankful for whenever you get angry at your situation. Think about how you’re fertile when so many women aren’t.”
My eyes twitched with the need to roll, but I managed to keep them still. “I’ll see you next month.”
Janice’s smile chased me from the room.
It was just after five when I hurried through the lobby – ignoring Ramirez again. The day was warm and green and full of the promise of summer, but my mood was sour. Honestly, I could have really used a drink after the week I’d had. First the news that I was ovulating, then the horrible, degrading appointment where a stranger’s sperm had been inserted in me, followed by a waste of time support group, and an even bigger joke of a counseling session. If only I was allowed to defile my body with alcohol. Since I wasn’t, I ordered a club soda with lime when I arrived at the restaurant at six o’clock, then carried it to one of the intimate seating areas to wait for Trevor and Owen.
The building was an old bank that had been refurbished more than forty years ago and was absolutely gorgeous inside. Of course, it hadn’t always been that way. The restaurant had gone into disrepair shortly after RNB-40 decimated the population and had stayed closed for more than a decade. Thankfully, someone had bought the building and once again fixed it up – courtesy of a grant from the federal government. It had taken awhile, and had only been reopened for about five years, but it was one of my favorite spots in town.
I wasn’t alone, and the place was as busy as expected on a Friday night, but strangely enough, more than a couple people were wearing masks. It wasn’t totally unheard of. Pandemicswere a part of life. Still, there weren’t typically this many people wearing them, which had me wondering if I’d missed something. I’d read about the virus that had popped up in Europe, but with everything else going on in my life, I hadn’t thought to keep tabs on it. Had it gotten worse? Spread? Was it in the United States?
I’d just pulled my phone from my pocket to check on it when I spotted Trevor and a blond man I recognized as Owen on the other side of the room. They each had a glass of wine, Trevor’s white and Owen’s red, and were talking as they headed my way.
Owen was cuter than his picture but still not my type, which was fine since I wasn’t his type either. He had soft features and a compact body that reminded me of a gymnast, but he was a good height, only a few inches shorter than Trevor, and had a nice smile and expressive blue eyes. Looks wise, he had my approval already. Hopefully, for Trevor’s sake, Owen’s personality passed the test as well. Unlike me, my best friend had always wanted a family.
They were still a good fifteen feet away when Trevor looked around, grinning when he spotted me. I stood as they approached, a welcoming smile on my face that Owen returned.
“Ara,” he said when they finally reached me.
Trevor’s expression reminded me of a proud papa when he said, “This is Owen.”
“Nice to meet you.”
I put out my hand, but to my utter surprise, Owen wrapped the arm not holding his wine glass around me.
My surprise must have been plain on my face, because when he pulled back, he gave me an apologetic smile and said, “I’m a hugger. Sorry. I should have asked.”
“No,” I replied, then laughed. “It’s okay. Really.”
And it was. No, I didn’t typically hug strangers, and I wasn’t the most social person – the fact that Trevor was one of my only friends proved that – but I had to admit that something about Owen put me at ease. He was so open and warm. So genuine.
Trevor’s in trouble with this one.
The men settled onto the couch together, sitting much closerthan people who’d only gone out on two dates usually would, and we spent the next hour getting to know one another. We ordered a charcuterie board and more drinks, talked, laughed, and had a great time. It was relaxing and natural, and Owen was great, and I could see the sparks flying every time Trevor glanced his way, but it couldn’t distract me from the growing number of people wearing masks. There were so many.
I really needed to pay better attention to current events.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Trevor said after we’d finished our food, slowly getting to his feet, “I need to make a run to the little boys’ room.” A grin bloomed across his face when he looked at Owen, nodding to the other man’s empty wine glass. “Another?”
“I probably shouldn’t,” was the reply. “I have to drive home.”
“Or maybe you don’t,” Trevor said, winking.
Owen let out a hearty laugh. “We’ll see where the night takes us.”
Trevor’s steps were noticeably light as he walked away, which had me smiling. It was good to see him happy. Especially when I felt so miserable.
Once we were alone, Owen leaned forward. “So, do I pass the test?”
A laugh burst out of me. “So far, so good.”
