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Sex with Simon was just wonderful. Simon was wonderful. He rolled over beside me. I watched his chest rise and fall in rhythm with his breathing. Even sleeping, this man was amazing. His face looked much younger in the morning light, his chiselled jaw covered in stubble. He hadn't shaved in a few days. I'd kept him too busy for that. He was biting his lip in his sleep. I leaned in to kiss him. He kissed back me, surprised.
“What was that for?” He asked, half awake, amused by my spontaneity. I shrugged, and kissed him again. This time I didn't pull away. His mouth met mine in a long intense kiss. I snuggled up next to him, running my fingers over his ribbed stomach, over his dark chest hair. God I loved his chest hair. I put my nose to his chest and breathed deeply.
“What are you doing, you freak.” He mumbled laughing. His eyes twinkled.
“Smelling you.” I answered matter of factly. “I love the way you smell.” I breathed him in again, loving the scent of his sweat mixed with aftershave and fresh sex.
“You are a strange girl.”
“A strange girl in love with a wonderful man.” I responded. We kissed again. This time, his arm reached behind my back, pulling the covers down.
“So, do you want kids of your own?” Simon raised an eyebrow at my surprised expression. We were lying in each overs arms. We should have gotten up hours ago. Lying like this together was too wonderful for either of us to ruin. Now he had gone asking this. If the moment wasn't already ruined, it would be in a minute. “Not now. I mean someday.” He added hurriedly.
My heart began to pound. I'd been waiting for this conversation. In my head I'd gone over approach after approach. What to say, how to say it.
Do I be completely honest, or answer vaguely, and work the rest out later? I mean, this, whatever it was, was still so new. Who knew if we'd still be together in a year, much less ten? What if he couldn't get past this?
My life was so complicated, and he had been amazing through everything. How much could I expect him to take?
Honesty.
I'd want that from him, so I owed him the same in return at least.
“I can't have kids.” There. It was said. It was out there, floating above me like a bad smell.
Si
mon looked confused. Then he seemed to get it. “The attack.” He said softly. I couldn't help but notice the pained look on his face. “My god the injuries you must have suffered.” He whispered hoarsely.
“Yes, the attack. I had some really severe internal injuries which messed up much of my reproductive system. Even with fertility assistance, there is next to no chance.”
“Are you okay, with that?”
“What's the difference?” I said. “Nothing I do will change it. No matter how badly I want kids of my own, biologically, anyway, it's just not going to happen. So no, I'm not okay with it, but what's the point?” I repeated.
People were so quick to feel sorry for me, but that wasn't going to change shit about the situation. It had taken me a long time to accept I wouldn't have kids, but I'd never be okay with it. The best part was when people tried to point out the positives, like 'oh well there's always adoption, or surrogacy'.
What they truly didn't get was I'd never get to experience the wonders of pregnancy. Adoption and surrogacy were certainly options I'd look into with the right person, but I didn't need people telling me what the upsides of my situation were. I couldn't bear my own children. There was no upside to that. I glanced at Simon.
“Do you want more kids?” I asked. Only fair he should have to answer too. He hesitated for the briefest of moments.
“I do.” He said honestly. “But it would take much more than that for me to not want to be with you.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him. I resisted, annoyed at my body.
At myself.
Most of all I was angry that I would never be able to fully move on from the attack. There was always something to remind me of what I could have had. What was taken from me.
“I've researched your attack.” Simon said quietly. I glanced at him, surprised. I thought I'd been pretty open with everything. It hadn’t occurred to me that he might want to know more. “There were things I needed to know, things you shouldn't have to relive.” I nodded. I could understand his curiosity. I would have been too.
“I have a friend in parole. I know today is the hearing.” I nodded numbly. Of course he knew. I was stupid to think I could hide that from him. “I love you so much, Em. You are such a strong girl. What you've been through-” His voice broke off. I saw tears.
The hearing was set for 11:00am. In fifty minutes I'd know.
“Please don't pity me, Simon.” I begged. “I need your love, and your support. I don't need your pity.” I was crying too now. “I don't want you feeling sorry for me. A bad thing happened. But I can’t move on if people won’t let me get past it.” My voice was rising. Years of anger was beginning to surface, and poor Simon was in the firing line. He hugged me to his chest, resisting my struggles to pull away.
“I fucking hate that cunt for what he did to you. But I don't pity you. I envy you and your strength Emma. I just love you so much.” I relented, allowing him to hug me. In his arms I felt protected, and loved. The oven buzzer went off. I reluctantly removed myself from his arms and went to save my cake. Cooking always made me feel better.
“Simon?” I had a question. I focused on icing my cake as he waited for me to speak. “How long. How long until he is out?” I didn't take my eyes off the cake. If I looked at him, I'd cry. I didn't want to cry right now.
