Page 14 of All Her Broken Pieces

“Sometimes it’s okay to let go. And sometimes the scary things are the most worthwhile. Pursuing them isn’t easy, but the payoff is worth it. You gave him control of your body, and maybe you could try giving up control over other areas of your life. Get uncomfortable. I dare you.”

“There’s nothing about that man’s body that’s uncomfortable. Trust me.”

“Except his heart. And what he might do to yours.”

“Damn, Becka. Way to make it real.”

“Thanks for coming to my TED talk.” She tips her coffee up to mine. “Seriously, though, I really do like him for you.”

“But what else could we possibly have in common? He’s twenty-two.”

“Just get to know him. I bet you have more in common than orgasms.”

I sigh. “I hate when you make sense. It doesn’t mean I’m agreeing, however.”

“Again, I’m the adultiest adult in the room.”

“Truth. But don’t think I won’t be circling back to that comment about you and Robert being in a rut. I have an idea that could help. I read in a book once about a group of friends who all texted their men asking to sit on their faces. Each man’s response was more unhinged than the last. You should try it.”

“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll text Robert asking to sit on his face if you see Ethan again.”

“Ugh,” I groan, annoyed with myself for falling for her traps. They come from a place of love, but I hate how she knows all the ways to make me confront things that I find uncomfortable. “Why do you do shit like this to me?”

“Because I love you,” she singsongs as she finishes the last of her coffee.

CHAPTER4

Bridget

I leavethe office a little early on Monday afternoon so I can make it to my doctor’s appointment on time.

Dr. Francis enters the room with the nurse following behind her. “Hello, Bridget. So, we’re performing your yearly exam today.”

My eyes lock on a spot on the ceiling as I shift uncomfortably on the table. “Correct.”

“How is everything? Do you have any changes in your medical history? Any concerns?”

“Yeah, I’ve had some pain on my right side, and my periods have been more painful than normal.”

“I see. Can you describe the pain?”

“Most of the time it’s dull, but sometimes I get a sharp stabbing pain. More so on my right side.”

“Is it constant or intermittent? Does it happen during sex? During your cycle?”

“It comes and goes. I haven’t noticed it during sex, but it does seem to be stronger during my period.”

“Understood.” Dr. Francis pulls the stirrups out of the table, and I continue inching my body to the edge until nearly my entire ass is hanging off, then ease my legs into the stirrups. Despite the way the stirrups’ position holds me open, I still try closing my legs, as though this medieval contraption would allow that. Is everyone like this at the gynecologist, or is it just me?

I stare at the same spot on the ceiling as I hear the nurse preparing the tools for the scraping and prodding that will inevitably ensue. The rolling stool shuffles around me as I feel cold, gloved fingers on my inner thighs. “Ahhh,” I groan as goosebumps prickle my skin.

“Sorry, but you know what they say, ‘cold hands,” Dr. Francis begins.

“Warm heart,” the nurse finishes, not even pretending to be amused. How many times a week must she finish that line for her? Here’s an idea: Buy the woman some hand warmers so she isn’t making uncomfortable women more uncomfortable.

Why am I like this? Why can’t I do pleasantries like normal people? Laugh at a doctor’s awkward small talk and interact with people like everyone else?

The exam progresses like usual except for what feels like a lot of extra prodding once the doctor begins theI’m going to see how far I can shove my arm inside of youpart. I don’t remember this much examining in my normal yearly visits, and anxiety niggles the back of my brain.

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