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“I’m responsible for putting her to bed,” I said, “so we’re going to have to cut things short tonight.”
He took another drink, laughing. “Do me a favor. Don’t fuck this one up. I’d like to at least have her here for dinner.”
He had no idea what he was saying.
But I did.
And I wanted to tell him it was too late for that.
But it was pointless because I had a feeling the next time he asked me about the woman I was seeing, Billie would already be out of my life.
FIFTY-SEVEN
HONEY
SPRING 1987
HONEY HADN’T EXPECTED to remember the last thing Andrew had said before she passed out after surgery.
But she did.
Every word.
And the next morning, when she woke up, he told her they could discuss her diagnosis whenever she was ready. Honey wasn’t. She wanted to heal and return to work and feel a little more normal before they talked about everything that was broken inside of her.
But while she was waiting to have that talk with Andrew, his words continued to haunt her, and she wasn’t able to let them go.
A week passed, and when it was time to go to Dr. Katz’s office, they still hadn’t had a conversation about it, but their OB/GYN didn’t need to tell them the difficulties they were going to face. As Honey stared back at her, her own eyes showed how petrified she was of this journey.
When the couple left the appointment, Honey vowed not to make any decisions yet. She wanted to see how her body responded if she dropped all expectations. If she gave herself freedom to enjoy things again, to experience sex when it wasn’t just to make a baby.
But when three months went by, three more instances of looking down and seeing red, Honey was ready to talk to Andrew.
She waited for him on the couch, knowing he would see her the second he opened the door, cuddled beneath an afghan her mother had knitted.
When he came in after his shift, he still had the doorknob in his hand when he said, “What are you doing up so late, baby?” He left his briefcase and jacket by the door and sat next to her.
Honey tightened the blanket around her. “Couldn’t sleep.”
His hand went under the afghan, and when he found her fingers, he leaned forward and kissed her.
She could smell the hospital on him. It made her love him more.
“You’re never awake when I get home from this shift.” His lips moved to her forehead. “Tell me what’s going on.”
She had to look away for a minute. Her thoughts were too heavy and all over the place. She had planned what she was going to say, rehearsed it many times, especially considering she had been on this couch for hours. But now that he was here, the words weren’t coming so easily.
“Honey …”
She was staring at the glass coffee table in front of them. She hoped, one day, it would be covered in small fingerprints, the sharp edges needing to be wrapped so they wouldn’t poke any eyes out, the ceramic vase in the middle removed so it wasn’t within reaching distance.
All problems she prayed to have.
That was why she glanced up at her husband, squeezing both of his hands, and said, “I think we should adopt.”
He clutched her back, and Honey saw the answer before he said, “Me too. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and it’s really something I want.”
Her eyes filled with tears as she gazed at him. He was still in his scrubs and white coat, hair a little disheveled, a darkness under his eyes telling her it had been a long shift. But he looked at her with so much patience and love.
“Andrew, I can’t handle the letdown anymore.” She slowly tried to inhale, filling her lungs all the way. “Every month, without fail, it’s like clockwork. I get three weeks of hope and then a week of torture and then hope and torture. I can’t take it.”
He released her hand to cup her cheek, his thumb gently caressing the edge of her eye, each swipe getting more of the wetness that had fallen. “I don’t want you to feel that way. Not now, not ever. Do you hear me?” He pressed his forehead against hers just to get closer. “I want to give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of, Honey, and I want to take all of your pain and suffering in return.”
