Saved by someone knocking on the door, I don’t have to answer whatever that was.
They are ready to bring me to pre-op, and this is the point where he can’t come. He follows me to the door, kissing my forehead before they start to roll me away. I look back to see his arms crossed with tears in his eyes.
I’m so checked out that I don’t even pay attention to everything they are doing. All I can do is try to remind myself that this won’t be the last time my loved ones see me. This won’t be my last chance to make choices for myself. I have to believe this isn’t the end of my story.
“Are you ready?” They ask, rolling me into the operating room.
“Do I have a choice?”
This gets a chuckle out of them, but I’m just stating the obvious.
The anesthesiologist introduces himself and then explains what is going to happen next. I don’t care, I just want to be knocked out already. My wish comes true, and soon my eyes are closing. I try to go back to that dream about a brighter future, but all I can think about are the mistakes I might have made.
When I woke up, only my dad was there. He stayed with me the whole three days I was in the hospital. It wasn’t until he had to go get the house ready that he left me alone with Farrah.
“You can’t have sex for six weeks?” she asks while she lounges on the chair, eating my Jell-O.
I’m elbow deep in my bag of Cheetos, trying to erase the taste of hospital steak.
“I know, right, just when there is no chance of me getting pregnant.”
“How do you feel about that?” Finished, she tosses the empty packet onto the tray and picks up the tea she brought. Having gotten me a coffee, I gulped it down like it was water in a desert.
How do I describe the fact that the thing that bothers me most is that getting pregnant is no longer my choice? Before this, I was unsure if I even wanted kids, and if I did, I thought I might adopt like Farrah’s parents. I knew that at some point I would likely have them with a partner, and that seemed fine. But with the option off the table, it’s like my life and my value have been limited by something outside my control.
I shrug, and she leaves it alone, but I can see the tears in her eyes that she is holding back. When she sees that I’m full, she helps me get dressed and get into the wheelchair. Just as we get downstairs, mydad pulls up. It still looks like he hasn’t showered and barely slept, so Farrah promises to sit with me when we get to the house.
“I froze my eggs. It took half my savings, but I did it,” I tell her once we are alone.
“You know I meant it when I said I would be a surrogate for you.” Eyes still watery, she tries for a smile that doesn’t quite work.
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“Why not? I would love another reason to have Errol wait on me hand and foot.” Trying to make light of the situation, she finally gets her grin to stick.
“First, you don’t need a reason for that, and second, it wouldn’t be his kid, so why would he?”
“Because I’m his wife and it would be my godchild, and nephew.”
She pats my leg and gets up to refill my water. For the first time in weeks, I feel myself getting ready to cry. I don’t know if I tell her enough how grateful I am for her. I don’t know what I would do if I had to rely on the men who can’t keep it together. Even when she is fighting to stay composed, she doesn’t make it about her.
Speaking of one, Charlie knocks before promptly letting himself in.
“We really need to start locking the door,” I say.
He doesn’t seem to think that’s funny, not even lifting a corner of his lips as he comes to sit. Picking up my legs, he puts them on his lap and begins to massage my calf. It’s in that moment that Farrah walks back into the room.
She mouths,Do you want me to go? I shake my head, letting her know I would prefer if she would stay. Still not over my life-or-death revelation, a part of me hopes that it was just the panic that made me no longer want to be with him. Even still, I don’t want to be alone with him just yet.
“So Charlie, are you ready to focus on Monty?” Sitting on the ottoman, she crosses her arms. He looks between us to see if she is being serious. When neither one of us smiles, I can see the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.
“I have been.”
“No, you have been making this experience about you, when she needs you to be comforting her,” she continues.
I swear, Farrah would fight with a wall if it looked at her funny, but I can tell she is really fired up right now.
“I guess I’ll have to change that.” He looks at me, and I don’t give him an escape from the conversation.
