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Grunting in annoyance, not at Dom, but at my stupid health issue, I gesture to my body as if that explains everything before realizing that it explains nothing.
"Basically, it means that my ovaries are dysfunctional, I grow hair in weird places, I gain weight easily and struggle to lose it as well as a myriad of other crap. The biggest one is that it will be difficult for me to conceive naturally, if at all. Which is where shit gets real."
Dom's face takes on a look of understanding and sympathy that I appreciate, but can't currently handle right now. I take another drink of my martini, having lost count of what number I'm at by now, but not having the energy to care at the moment. Staring into the half-empty glass, I watch as the blue lights from above the bar reflect on the shiny crystal glass and clear liquid.
"I've always wanted to be a mother. It's inherent for me. Deep in my bones, I know that it's part of my journey. I know in my soul that if I leave this life without ever having experienced motherhood, it will break my heart. So, because of that, I've also always known that whoever I end up with someday, will need to have that desire as well. It was so extremely important to me, ya know?" I murmur the last part, my words barely audible over the low jazz music playing above us. Dom squeezes my hand in comfort.
"When I met Cole, we got along really well. We were like instant best friends. We had a lot of the same views and similar personalities. We clicked. When things started moving from friendship to relationship, it was slow and natural. But I still had dreams, and I made sure to have a serious conversation with him. I had to confirm that we wanted the same things out of life because, in my head, there is no point in pursuing something serious with someone if it's going to be a dead-end relationship.
“Cole swore up and down that he wanted a family someday. That being a father was important to him. He also told me that for him, that dream was years down the road. He asked for time, and I gave it to him. As long as it would happen eventually, I was fine with waiting. For the first few years of our relationship, we used protection, but the conversation naturally came up for us to stop since we were committed and monogamous. I explained my fertility issues and the likelihood of needing medical assistance someday, and he understood. He was supportive."
Tears rapidly fill my eyes the more I think back to the progression of my relationship with Cole. The many,manyconversations we had about the future. He didn't quite get the whole PCOS and infertility issues, nor did he pay them much attention. He wasn't callous about it, but he wasn't overwhelmingly there for me, either. I just chalked it up to him being a man who was uncomfortable with female topics. When I brought up treatments, and even possibly IVF, he didn't balk, he didn't panic, he just saidokay.
That was that. I never looked back. I accepted everything, and we went forward. Things progressed, or so I thought.
"A few years passed, and despite not using any protection, I never became pregnant. We never even had a blip. So, we both just assumed that all the doctors were right. I brought up seeking further assistance from doctors or even starting treatments because I knew it would be a lengthy and pricey process. Cole responded by asking for more time. There was always something. A new car, a new house, a vacation, or a certain position he wanted to get to in his career. All of his reasons made sense. I was able to justify his requests because he always placated me by saying,soon.
I know I pushed him for marriage, but I was 29, he still hadn’t proposed, and I was beginning to feel like he just didn’t want it. He proposed on my 30th birthday, and even though my gut told me that things didn't feel right, I said yes. Looking back, I know there are a hundred reasons why I said yes, but there were a lot of reasons why I should have said no. I ignored them all because there my future was just waiting for me. I jumped, we got married, and then I fell pregnant.”
Dom grins, immediately excited for me, but the tears streaming down my face rapidly tell him without words that it's not a happy ending. "Fuck," he whispers.
"Yeah,fuck." Chugging the remainder of my drink, I push my glass away and shake my head when he moves to refill it again. “I was so damn excited, Dom. Like, seriously, a sobbing, excited mess. I had peed on hundreds of sticks before that one. Every time my period was late, I was nauseous or bloated, or tired. Even though those are all side effects of my illness, I never lost hope. That was the only time the stick ever turned pink."
"What did Cole say?" The innocent question makes me cry harder. Now that the floodgates are open, I can't seem to stop. Gasping, Dom darts away before quickly returning with a stack of cocktail napkins. Giving him a watery smile in thanks, I dry my eyes the best I can before blowing my nose. It’s undignified and gross, but necessary.
"He was so mad," I whimper. "He wasn't happy. He went on a rant about how it wasn't time, and he had just gotten put up for a promotion, and blah, blah, blah. For the next few weeks he treated me like shit. Every time I had morning sickness, threw up, got tired, dizzy, and felt like shit, he ignored me. I was beyond happy for every symptom, thankful for the life inside of me that was making me sick. It didn't bother me. I was grateful, but Cole ignored it all. If I said I didn’t feel well, he nodded and walked away. If I threw up, he put his headphones on. If I said I was tired, he told me to go to bed. It was miserable.
When I finally went to the first doctor’s appointment, he came, but didn’t speak the whole time. I got an ultrasound, and I knew right away that something was wrong. I cried, and still, Cole was cold and uncaring. I finally broke down and told him he was ruining the pregnancy for me. That we were given a miracle, and that based on what the doctor had said it was a good chance our baby wouldn’t survive, but I wanted to love that baby the entire time I had her. I didn't want him to waste that time."
Looking up, I see Dom's face now covered in tears, and I fight the urge to throw myself into his arms.It's been so long since anyone’s hugged me.
"Cole didn’t say anything. I had weekly scans and was diagnosed with Intrauterine Growth Restriction and told that our baby wouldn’t make it. I lost her at 13 weeks while I was at home. Cole just sat and watched. After that, I went through a significant depression. The only thing Cole ever said waswhen are we going to start having sex again. I knew then that our marriage was over. Up until that point, I was able to justify all of his actions. He wasn’t ready, he was nervous, he wanted to be set financially, and with his career, he didn’t know how to handle pregnancy and loss. I made excuses for all of it, for him, because I loved him."
"Oh, honey." Dom sniffs and grunts before quickly darting out from behind the bar. Before I even realize what’s happening, I'm wrapped in his arms. "Fuck him. Seriously,mija, fuck him. Not all men are like him, and I get why you made excuses, we all do that for those we love, but seriously, no. Just no."
Soaking in his words and embrace, I lean into him, allowing this random human to give me comfort where no one else has. I have no family, besides a sister who lives in another state. No one else was with me when I lost the baby besides Cole, and it’s been a hell of a year since our divorce. This surprising interaction with Dom is wildly cathartic and all too meaningful.
Finally finding the strength, I pull away and kiss his cheek. "Thank you," I murmur. "And I know, fuck him. He's a prick who has deep,deepissues and I see all of them now."
Dom wipes the tears from my cheeks in an incredibly intimate gesture, and I decide right then that we're now friends. Clucking, he wipes his own cheeks before dropping onto the barstool next to me. "What happened next?"
Groaning, I prop my elbow on the counter and lean my head on my hand as I turn to face him. "I was done after that. I couldn't trust him, couldn't bring myself to be intimate with him anymore. Two years into our marriage, everything fell apart. We went to therapy as a last-ditch effort. He eventually came out and said that he never wanted kids. He had assumed that because of my infertility issues, I'd never be able to conceive and that we would just be happy without them."
Dom slaps an open palm on his forehead and mutters a string of words in Spanish that I don't understand, but I can only assume are curses in Cole's direction. "What a fucking piece of garbage. Please tell me you left his ass after that?"
"Yep, and then I quit working at the school. At first, it was because I couldn't be around him and he made it very clear that because of his 'high ranking position'," I scoff out the words and roll my eyes, "he couldn't be the one to quit. Realistically, I could have fought it, but after losing the baby, I just didn't have the heart to be around small children anymore. I took some substitute jobs as a teacher with older kids for a while but found it just as difficult. So, now, I'm a 33-year-old, jobless divorcee with a broken uterus who can't get a date to save her life. No, correction. I can get them, but I apparently can't keep them."
Dropping my head onto the bar with athunk, I groan, allowing myself to wallow in the sea of my shitty circumstances, if only just for tonight.
Dom laughs and rubs my back in a sweet gesture befitting my new bestie. "About that. Did you get stood up tonight, sweetness?"
Making a gagging noise, I tilt my head to look up at him with my nose scrunched up in displeasure. "Rule number one of this new friendship, Jeeves. Don't ever call me sweetness again."
His lips purse and his hand on my back stills as he considers my words. "Don't call me Jeeves and I won't call you sweetness, deal?"
Sticking my tongue out at him, I'm thankful for the moment of distraction from the heaviness of my story. "Fine."
"Fine." Grinning, he leans over to mirror my position, with his head on the bar. "Maybe the guy had an emergency or got into a wreck or something."
