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“Yup, this is the one,” I tell Vanessa as I step out of the dressing room and give her a spin.
“Oh hell yeah,” she says with an awestruck clap. “You look hot, Samwich.”
I flip my hair over my shoulder and pose like Beyonce´. “Why thank you, Vanilla.”
Vanessa waits as I pay for the dress, and we continue strolling through the clothing store as we chat about the wedding. “I can’t figure it out,” Vanessa says. “Like, why would he want his ex-wife to meet his new wife? It’s not like you guys have kids or any other reason to remain in each other’s lives.”
“I guess I’ll have to solve the mystery once I’m there.”
“And you’re going with Marty?” she asks. “It’s good you won’t be alone, at least.”
“Right.”
Vanessa is the best friend I’ve got, and I hate lying to her, but this is a necessary evil if I want to keep seeing Mylo. And I do. Mom has had more bad days than good lately, and our secret meetups are the only thing keeping me sane.
“Ugh, this baby is sucking more energy out of my body every day. Can we sit?” she asks when we make it to the shoe department. She plops down on a green velvet bench meant for people trying on shoes and lets out a deep exhale. “You know what’s worse? He or she has obliterated my sex drive. It’s nothing like it used to be, and I’m praying it’ll go back to normal in the next trimester.”
I sit next to her. “I’m sure it will.” I have no idea if it will or not, but Vanessa clearly needs positive reinforcement right now.
“What I don’t understand,” she leans in closer and whispers, “is why I suddenly need lube during sex. Before pregnancy, I was like a damn fire hose. Now? Extreme drought.” She shakes her head. “It doesn’t make sense. You’d think with all the fluids passing back and forth between me and the baby, there’d be plenty extra to…” she speaks out of the corner of her mouth, “saturate the garden, if you know what I mean.”
Of course, I know what she means. Anyone over age ten would know what she means. “I don’t think pregnancy works like that,” I say with an amused chuckle, “but I’m sorry about your dry vag situation. That blows.”
“It really does. Though, I am glad to be rid of my period for a while.”
That’s the only part of her pregnancy I’m jealous of. “Agreed,” I tell her. “I’m sick of my period. At thirty-seven, I feel like I shouldn’t have to go through this much bloating and pain on a monthly basis. It’s been over twenty years. Enough already.”
“I know, right?” Vanessa mutters with a smirk as she picks up a platform furry Ugg slipper. She looks through the boxes beneath the display slipper, trying to find her size. She pulls one box from the bottom of the pile and kicks off her Allbirds sneakers to try them on. “You can always get pregnant if you’d like an extended break from it.”
“Pass,” I say with a scoff. “Motherhood is not for me.” I scan through the shoes on display in this area of the store, looking for a pair that would go well with the dress I just bought, but also won’t kill my feet which is a tall order for a dressy shoe. “I’ve thought about getting my tubes tied. I wouldn’t get my period anymore, and I’d never have to worry about an accidental pregnancy.”
“Makes sense,” Vanessa says, kicking up her feet in the slippers and wiggling her toes. “If you don’t want kids, why put your fate in the hands of birth control pills and condoms, right?”
“Exactly.”
Her gaze meets mine, and it’s filled with warmth. “If you make that appointment, I’ll go with you, if you want.”
“Thank you,” I tell her. The rest of what I want to say is implied.Thank you for not asking if I’m sure that I don’t want kids. Thank you for not cautioning me that I might want them in the future, or if I met the right guy.Andthank you for offering to hold my hand while I endure a procedure that is sure to be just as inconvenient and uncomfortable as my period is every month.I don’t know what I’d do without her.
“What about your little one?” I ask, eager to shift the conversation away from the emotions bubbling up inside me. “When’s your next sonogram?”
“Luka, Harper, and Ryan are coming up in a couple of weeks to stay with us. They’ll do it then.”
“Will you learn the sex?”
“Maybe,” Vanessa says. “It might be too early, but both of Harper’s pregnancies were about seven months, so dragon babies apparently cook a little faster.”
My phone vibrates inside my purse, and Marty’s name flashes across the screen as I answer it. “Yo. Mom okay?”
“Yeah, she’s taking a nap. I’m looking for the Reese’s Cup bunnies I left in the cabinet above the fridge. They’re not here.”
“Because I ate them.”
“Okay,” he mutters, irritated. “And the mini-Snickers bars I hid in the pantry?”
“Yup, ate those too.”
“What about the fruit roll-ups I put in the back of the bread box? Or the snickerdoodle cookies I stuffed inside that roasted seaweed bag?”
