AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“It’s the first time I’ve said all of that out loud to anyone. I’ve kept it locked away inside of me since the day I left. It’s such a relief to finally let it all out.”
“Lena.” I look up to the ceiling and let out a deep sigh before turning back to face her. “I can’t begin to understand what you felt. What you feel about everything you lost. I had no clue about any of it. I should’ve been more attentive and more open. For that, I apologize.” I kiss her forehead and let my lips linger there.
I grasp her face and stare into her eyes. “I’m sorry that we never had the conversation about kids, and I just assumed we would have them.” Lena’s eyes widen at my apology for my insensitive behavior, something she wasn’t expecting to hear.
“My assumptions pushed you away. Made you think you couldn’t have a conversation about it or about your health. We were gonna get married, and we should’ve discussed what we wanted, and what was happening with you, with us. I was wrong.”
Tears slide down her cheeks. “Thank you,” she mutters. She lifts her hands and rests them over mine, which are still embracing her face.
“There are not enough words to express how sorry I am for making you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about what was happening to you. But I don’t understand how you could ever think I would love you less. That never would’ve happened.”
“You don’t know that.” She shakes her head.
“I do know that. But, if that’s what you’re sticking with, then neither do you. I fell in love with you, your heart—” I lay my hand over her heart, resting my palm there “—your kindness, your sense of humor, the way you’re shy yet confident, your laugh, and these curls.”
I grab a ringlet that’s hanging over her left eye and twirl it between my fingers. “Having kids would have been a bonus. Yes, I wanted children with you, but we would’ve made it through together. We would’ve made a life without kids. You didn’t even allow me to do that. You took that away from me, from us.”
“I’m sorry.” Her eyes dart away from mine.
“Lena, look at me.”
She hesitates before turning her eyes back up toward mine, moisture brimming at their edges.
“Help me understand. I have questions. Will you answer them for me?”
She nods her head yes.
“No more lies.”
She lifts her eyes back to mine and nods.
“The doctor, she told you that you needed a hysterectomy, and you’d never carry a child. Did you get a second opinion?”
“I planned on getting one in Des Moines.”
“You planned on it? What does that mean?”
“I had been in Des Moines for about four months. Had found a job, an apartment, and was trying to normalize my life, establish a routine to forget you. My body was in pain, but I ignored it. I took ibuprofen and worked through it all. I pretended the pain was a result of all the drastic changes I had made.”
Nine Years Ago
It was a busy Thursday, and after working a double, Hank, my manager, let me go home early. I wasn’t feeling well and had shooting pains down my legs for most of the day from my period, which is heavy again this month. When I get home, I take a shower to wash the day away and take a few ibuprofen to dull the pain.
I’ve been meaning to contact a doctor, schedule an appointment to get a second opinion, and see if Dr. Ahmed in Boston was right. Still, I keep putting it off, making excuse upon excuse to myself to avoid facing reality. The truth is, I don’t care. I am wicked miserable, have been since leaving Boston, leaving Massimo. I miss my old life, miss everything about it. But mostly, I miss my man. I regret leaving him, regret being here, but I know if I go back to Boston, Massimo will tell me it’s okay that I can’t have kids, and we can have a life without them. But I know better. He would resent it. I would know he was always unhappy without kids, and it would destroy our relationship. I left because I cannot bear the thought of him leaving me. After all, I had no control over what was happening to my body, and I can’t have children. At least this way, I am in control of my misery and heartache.
It’s the middle of the night when I wake up from the abdominal pain. The sheets beneath me are soaked. I reach to the nightstand and turn the lamp on. Blood saturates the sheets.What the fuck is happening?I attempt to stand, but my legs buckle, forcing me to sit back on the edge of the bed as blood streams down my legs. I grab my phone and dial Stevie’s number.
“Lena? It’s four in the morning. What’s the matter?”
“Hi, Stevie. I woke up in a pool of blood and can barely stand. Can you come here and drive me to the emergency room?”
“What? Yes, of course. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Keep your phone close.”
I lie back down in a cradle position to alleviate the pain, tears streaming down my face. I’m so alone. I could die, and no one would ever know.What have I done?
Stevie used her key to enter my apartment. After entering my room, she helps me up from the bed and walks me to the bathroom to clean up. She hands me a wet towel to wipe my legs while she’s searching for clean underwear, pants, and a top. As I’m cleaning myself, I notice I am still hemorrhaging golf-ball-sized clots. When Stevie returns to the bathroom and sees me, she says, “Lena, I can’t take you bleeding that way. I’m calling 9-1-1.”
The EMTs are in my bathroom minutes later, a male and a female. The female helps me stand and supports me as we cross the room to the stretcher waiting at the bedroom door. They lay me back, place an oxygen mask on my face, and strap me in. The pain in my stomach is like a twisting knife, and I’m crying from how much it hurts.
