Page 57 of One Last Thing Before You Go

“I gave the hot bartender my fake ID,” she shrugs. At my mock-disappointed face, she rolls her eyes. “Chill, Mom.”

Adriana sucks in a breath. “You can’t call her that, Jenn,” she practically hisses.

“Especially not tonight.”

I roll my eyes at my sister and sigh. “Thanks for coming to my ‘defense’,” I air-quote, “but it’s unnecessary. I can take a joke.”

“It’s just sad. And this whole night is fucking sad and stupid. No offense, Jenn. I know you organized this thing thinking it would be cool and fun and a way to make things easier on Lottie. But I just think this whole night is depressing and never should’ve happened.”

“Adriana,” Bonnie warns.

“Seriously. How is this even okay? I don’t want to celebrate the fact that you’re sterilizing yourself. I don’t want to celebrate the fact that you’re giving up. And I sure as hell don’t want to celebrate you securing yourself a lifetime of loneliness and solitude just from a little pain, some silly, little cramps.”

Rage strikes my body like lightning, coursing through my veins, lighting my skin on fire.

“A little pain? Silly, little cramps? Are you fucking kidding me?” I struggle to keep my voice down, to keep from losing my ever-loving shit on her. Still, a few people in neighboring tables turn to shoot me a wary look. “Did you know that the pain from endometriosis has been compared to labor pains? Do you even realize what that means? And it’s not like it happens just when I’m on my period. It’s almost all the time now. Almost every goddamn day. Debilitating, exhausting pain. And the bloating, the sick joke of looking six months pregnant when several doctors have told me that while it isn’t impossible for most women with endometriosis to have children it is for me. It’s sick and fucked and I. Am. Tired. I am… I’m done. That, combined with the PCOS? I’m over it. I can barely stand it anymore. The surgery won’t cure the endo, but maybe it will help.”

Bonnie and Jenn pretend to look anywhere but at us, successfully predicting where I’m about to go with this.

“I just—I just think if you hold on, if you just hold on for the right man or do some more fertility treatments, if you just wait, then⁠—”

“I held on for as long as I could. I did all the fertility treatments. I’ve done three endo surgeries to remove the tissue and every time it comes back. I put my body and myself through hell. And I am so fucking tired of it controlling my life. Moreover, I no longer feel like my world is going to end because I can’t have kids. I look at it as having an entirely new window of opportunity open for me.”

“But you won’t get to have a family, and what if you meet a man who⁠—”

“I don’t need a man in life. I want to focus on my health getting better, on getting my career back on track after everything I’ve been through.”

She shakes her head vigorously, tears running down her cheeks. And it makes me angry.

I should be the one crying. I should be the one throwing a bitch fit right now.

But I’ve done my time. I’ve cried my tears. I’ve been through all the stages of grief several times. I don’t need this.

“Who’s going to take care of you when you’re older, huh? You’re going to die alone.”

“Having kids shouldn’t be about breeding a future caregiver,” I hiss.

“You know what I mean.” She grimaces. “I think you’re making a mistake by quitting like this⁠—”

“I’m not quitting!” I throw my hands in the air, frustrated. “I am doing the opposite of quitting, Adriana. I am taking back control. Of my life, of my body. Of my goddamn future. For way too long I focused on one thing, on one image of what my life was supposed to look like. But I can’t keep holding on to that because it is just not in the cards for me. Having kids is not in the cards. And you know what? That’s okay. Me having this hysterectomy? It doesn’t feel like giving up. It feels empowering. It feels like taking lemons and making lemonade. I have choices now. I can focus on myself. I can stop having to think about another’s person’s wants other than my own.”

Her lower lip trembles, and I can tell she’s just bursting with more words I can’t stomach right now. It’s taken a lot for me to be “okay” with my situation. But I am. And I will not let myself be dragged down again by whatever conventional ideals my sister has for me.

“I feel so sorry for you that you think this is okay.”

“Adriana,” Bonnie bumps her shoulder, shooting her a look. “Stop.”

“No, don’t try and shut her up. I know exactly how she feels about this whole thing—it isn’t a secret. I was devastated when I finally realized I couldn’t have kids. And trying wrecked me for years—we all know this. But I love being an aunt. I love not having to deal with the kids after we’re done playing. But instead of supporting my decision, of trying to understand it, you keep pushing these ideas when I’ve already come to peace with my decision.”

“How can you come to peace with the fact that you’re going to spend the rest of your life alone? You just told us you won’t date another man because of what happened with Finn, because they’ll want something you can’t give them. You won’t even try to date a guy who tells you he doesn’t want kids because you’re scared he’ll take it back.”

Because that’s what Finn did. He didn’t want kids, and then he took it back.

“You’re going to be alone for the rest of your life.”

I chew on my lower lip, shaking in anger, wishing I could suddenly develop magical powers to get out of here with the blink of an eye. “I’m not going to die alone. And it’s not like I’m done with men forever. I can still have flings.”

She scoffs. “Honey, you won’t even go out for coffee with Knox, a man who seems like a prime candidate for a fling. You really expect me to believe you can handle that? You’re too scared. And don’t you dare deny it because I can see it in your eyes. You’re not strong enough.”