Page 23 of Say Something
Was it? Was it funny that we ended up back in Oak River at the same time? Was it a coincidence? Or was it more than that?
“Look,” Danny continued, “I don’t want to upset you. I’ll keep my distance from you, Jessie. If that’s what you want. It’s just so damn hard.” He looked up at the overcast sky. “I swear…when you’re around, I can feel it. I was driving by here and something told me to stop. It’s like I’m drawn to you—only to you—and you pull me right in. I still love you as much today as I did ten years ago.”
I gasped, closing my damp eyes, surprised there were any tears left to leak out.He still loved me.
Why did you leave?I wanted to ask him that, but it wasn’t fair. He hadn’t wanted to leave. I’d forced his hand. I practically pushed him out the door.
“I’m sorry…I said I didn’t want to upset you, but I did anyway.” He sounded regretful, and I bet if I turned around, I’d see the same shadows in his eyes I’d seen there three years ago. I just couldn’t face him, though.
I felt him approach me, the heat of his chest mere inches from my back, and my body came alive yet again.
“I’m here, Jessie. Whenever you’re ready…I’m here.” I felt a quick whisper of a touch on the back of my head, in my hair.Was it his lips?
I listened to his footsteps as he walked away, fading until there was silence in the park, save for the occasional bird chirping. I stood there, staring into the nothingness of the surrounding woods, thinking about when it all began to fall apart.
“I have good news and bad news,” Dr. Rowland said as he took a seat across the antique desk. His pale, paper thin skin stretched lazily across his face; I could have sworn he was older than time. But he was the most experienced reproductive endocrinologist around, and we wanted the best.
“Good news first,” Danny said from the antique patterned wingback chair beside me, squeezing my hand in a gesture of solidarity. I looked over at my husband of three years and took in his hopeful, yet terrified expression. It probably mirrored my own.
We’d come to this appointment with so much optimism, so much hope for our future family. You see, this wasn’t supposed to happen to us. We were supposed to get married, spend some time just being us—Danny and Jessica Thompson—and then get pregnant. We’d both come from large families and wanted our own small brood. We were just supposed to ditch the condoms, and then it would happen.
But it didn’t happen.
Not after one cycle, or two. Not after six, or twelve. Not after I’d started charting my basal body temperature, eagerly anticipating that spike that would indicate I was ovulating. I used the ovulation predictor kits, too. All signs pointed in the right direction, but nothing ever stuck. Countless dollars spent on early result pregnancy tests, just to see a single pink line in the window every damn time.
Something was wrong.
Part of me prayed the something wrong was me. I didn’t want Danny to have to carry that guilt, but I knew I could. Women were built strong to deal with emotional stressors, at least that’s what I believed. Danny wanted a baby so badly, and he was so sensitive. I didn’t think he could handle being the problem…the cause of all the disappointment we’ve felt over the past year. I knew he wouldn’t have wanted to let me down—to be the “cause” of our agony.
In retrospect, I should have given him more credit.
“Well, the good news is that your sperm are excellent. Your count and mobility are actually off the charts.”
Danny smiled at the doctor, momentarily pleased by the compliment about his little swimmers. Then his smile turned to a frown as he quickly glanced at me. I wasn’t really sure what he saw when his brown eyes locked with mine, but I imagine it wasn’t good.
“It’s going to be all right, baby,” he assured me, squeezing my hand again.
His assurance made me angry because, in that moment, how the hell did he know? The doctor hadn’t even gotten to the bad news yet, but it was obviously about me.
I was the bad news.
And as it turned out…I was the one who couldn’t handle it. That was the beginning of the end.
