Page 61 of After Care

“Inside. Now, Edie. Now.” I did as he said, slipping one finger in deep and I bit back the scream as I came. My back arched off the bed as my finger delved inward. My eyes rolled back, and I forgot the phone for a moment.

“That’s it, girl. Keep stroking, keep going. Oh, darlin’. So good, so wet, so sweet.” His raspy voice encouraged me, and I rocked on my finger until I was replete.

I exhaled into the phone, resting back flat on the bed. My legs shifted, and my arm swiped along the sheet. Aftershocks rippled through me, and I longed for him to be with me. It was good but not enough.

“Miss me?” he questioned, his voice near a whisper.

“So much more than you know,” I replied, a tear slipping from my eye. “So much more.”

12

Sex. Period.

I got my period.

I stared at the text I’d sent, knowing tone was difficult to read in a few rushed words over a screen. However, I wanted him to know he had nothing to worry about. We were nearing two weeks apart, and my period was almost two weeks late. I didn’t tell Tommy that, but remembering his freak-out over coming inside me, I wanted to let him know. This was a good thing. Honestly, at forty-three, who wants to get pregnant again, and start the cycle of life over? But strangely, a small part of me was disappointed, and so my rash text was sent by my crabby mood.

I didn’t wait for a reply. He was two hours behind me, and most likely, still sleeping. His schedule was one social activity after another, plus days filled with band practice and extinguishing shenanigans from the boys. My first call had actually been to my doctor. I’d made an appointment based on my growing nerves, but needed to cancel. Minutes later, Dr. Crain called me. We’d become friends in the professional way doctors befriend patients they see often.

“Edie, what’s going on?” Elizabeth asked. Brushing a hand over my hair, I blushed despite her inability to see me.

“I thought I was pregnant.” The silence that ensued dropped the bomb slowly. Kerplunk. “But I’m not.”

A pause followed those three little words, and I swallowed the ridiculous lump in my throat.

“Edie,” she said low, soothingly like only a doctor can. “I don’t think that’s possible, and you know all the reasons why. Your period needs time to regulate after the treatments you’ve endured. We’ve discussed this.”

“I know,” I huffed, knowing she was right, and my panic was unreasonable.

“What made you think you could be?”

I snorted into the phone, a nervous huff following.

“I didn’t think you were sexually active,” Elizabeth added.

“I’m not.” It was true, being almost two weeks without Tommy.

“Well,” she giggled. “Then you know it takes two for that to happen. Do we need a refresher in the birds and the bees?” she teased.

“No,” I laughed along with her, feeling foolish. “It’s just…” I stopped myself from speaking. I didn’t have close girlfriends. Not ones that I would share such intimate details with about my newly restored and suddenly vacant sex life. Elizabeth’s pause hinted that I should tell her. I could speak to her, but this wasn’t a clinical thing. There wasn’t a diagnosis for what was going on inside me. I was in love. No doctor could detect that, but my heart was breaking with our separation. I just didn’t see where Tommy and I could go from where we were—two separate places on the map.

“Look,” Elizabeth filled the pause. “You could still get pregnant. You haven’t reached an age where you can’t. But the likelihood is less, and after all your body has been through, highly unlikely.” She paused for more effect. “Is this something you want?”

“No,” I exhaled. It wasn’t. I was at the opposite end of the spectrum. On the verge of being an empty nester, but still, the thirty seconds of thought at a new life, growing inside me again, filling my days, did squeeze at my heart.

“You know, lots of women go through what you’re going through. It’s called adjustment disorder. Things are changing at an increased pace. The divorce. Cancer. Caleb leaving and soon Masie. It’s understandable that you’re having trouble adjusting to the changes. I can prescribe something for that, if you’d like?” My head was shaking before she finished her question.

“No,” I said, a bit too adamantly. I took enough pills as it was. I didn’t need something else in the mix that I’d have to regulate with diet or other medications. “No. I’m okay. Just a freaky false alarm.”

“Okay. Well, if you need something, or think you do, you can call me.”

I nodded again as if she could see me, thanked her, and hung up. Then I noticed I’d missed a text message: What’s this?

My phone buzzed in my hand, and I answered. Hello wasn’t even out of my mouth when he growled.

“What kind of message is that, darlin’?”

My mouth fell open at the accusation.