Page 47 of We Can Do
I blow out a long breath that fogs in the morning air. “I feel like I’ve read everything there is about it on the whole damn internet... but I still... I’m worried I’m going to fuck it up.”
“How so?”
“It’s—well, it’s one thing in particular.” I glance up and down the sidewalk, making sure we’re alone. An elderly woman walks her ancient beagle half a block away, but otherwise the street is empty. “I read all about flares, what to do when they happen, how to prevent them. But what if...” My voice drops even lower. “What if sex is never totally pain-free for her? What if it gets worse and I never know how to help her? What if I only... hurt her?”
The shame of potentially failing her in such a fundamental way makes it impossible to meet his eyes. This isn’t about some macho need for conventional sex. It’s about the terror of causing pain to someone I care about, of not being enough when she needs me.
“I also...” The words stick in my throat like day-old bread. “It’s frustrating, you know? The whole situation. But I don’twant to show that. If I show how frustrated I am, it’ll just make her feel guilty and she shouldn’t. None of this is her fault.”
“It’s normal to be frustrated.” His voice carries no judgment. “We’re humans, and these situations suck.”
“Yeah.” I scrub my face with both hands, appreciating his words even as they don’t quite ease the knot in my chest.
“And you know what? All those things you listed could happen. Things might get worse, and you might never know how to make them better.”
The sharp inhale fills my lungs with cold air. So that’s it? We’re all just supposed to accept this hand we’ve been dealt? Alexis especially, carrying this burden every single day?
“But you know what else?” Michael continues. “You and Alexis will get through it—but only by communicating. You need to ask her what feels good, what doesn’t. Constantly check in. More than you usually would with a woman.”
Relief washes through me like warm water. “That’s what I’ve been doing.”
“That’s good. Then you’re on the right path. As far as your own frustrations... You like Alexis.”
“Of course. A lot.” My heart does this stupid little skip. “It’s early, but... I think there’s something there.”
“Cool.” He nods slowly. “If you want it to work out, then, you can’t bottle up your feelings. If you’re feeling frustrated, tell her. She’ll be able to know either way. Might as well not make things worse by trying to hide it. Just make it kind, you know? There’s a tender way to tell her you’re worried or frustrated or confused.”
“Yeah.” My shoulders drop as tension I didn’t realize I was carrying releases. “Thank you. A lot.”
“No problem. I know that was kind of direct, and we barely know each other?—”
“Not at all, it was perfect. Exactly what I needed to hear.”
He nods, studying me with those steady eyes. “Things won’t always be easy, but what relationship is?”
I snort out a laugh. “True.”
Michael pulls out his phone, checks the time. “Well, I need to head out. It was good running into you.”
“You, too. Thanks, man.” I gesture toward the supplies in my truck bed. “For all your advice.”
“Anytime.” He starts walking backwards, still facing me with an easy smile. “Let’s grab a beer soon. Catch me up on how it’s going.”
“Sounds great. See you later.”
He waves and turns, heading down the street with purposeful strides. I climb into my truck, the worn seat familiar as an old friend. The engine turns over on the second try—better than usual—and I pull away from the curb.
The weight that’s been sitting on my chest for days has lifted. Not disappeared entirely, but lighter, manageable. Michael just handed me something I didn’t even know I was looking for—permission to be human in this situation, to not have all the answers, to figure it out as we go.
The road stretches ahead, puddles from last night’s rain reflecting the breaking clouds. I don’t know what comes next with Alexis, don’t have a detailed map for navigating her condition and our relationship. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe the fumbling in the dark is how everyone does this, feeling for light switches and hoping not to stub their toes.
Alexis and I will be alright. We can do this. I can do this.
Chapter Eighteen
Alexis
I stand in front of my full-length mirror and smooth the fabric of my sundress, letting my palms rest against my lower belly. The bloating that plagued me yesterday has eased some, but the deep, persistent ache remains—a dull throb that radiates through my pelvis like an unwelcome companion. The soft cotton feels gentle against my skin, which is about all I can manage today.
