Page 22 of Brood
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I’m curled up on my bed when Will walks in a few minutes later.
He pauses, frowning when he sees me. “What’s wrong?”
“N-nothing.”
“Something is wrong. Was your supervisor still singling you out this afternoon?”
“No.” I almost forgot about that incongruity. “In fact, she didn’t criticize me at all in the afternoon shift. Did—” I cut off my own question. It’s too presumptuous.
He’s still frowning as he comes over and sits on my bed, turning slightly so he can see me. “I had a word with Nichole earlier.”
Chief Nichole is in charge of Domestics. Monica’s boss.
“You did?”
“Yes. It’s not appropriate for me to intervene in Domestics, but I mentioned there might be an issue and asked if she’d looked into it. Clearly there was and she did.”
My lips part. “Oh.”
“So things are better in the kitchen?”
“They…they were. This afternoon. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” His shoulders lift as he takes a long breath. “So if it wasn’t work, then what’s wrong with you?”
I hesitate only briefly. I have to tell him the truth. “My period started.” I contort my face to keep from crying again. “I’m not pregnant.”
He’s going to be disappointed. I know he will. We’ve been trying every single night, and it didn’t work.
He moves his hand in my direction like he might touch me, but he doesn’t. He stands up. “We’ll keep trying.”
He meets my eyes, and I nod in agreement.
He goes to get ready for bed, then slides under his own covers and turns off the light. We don’t have sex. There’s no reason to, since there’s no way for us to get pregnant during my period.
The strange thing is that I still kind of want to have sex with him tonight.
ChapterFour
The examination chair in the Level One clinic is clean, white, and adjustable, cushioned with buttery soft vinyl. There are stirrups for your feet. Locking clamps for your wrists. Depending on the nature of the exam, there’s also a belt for your waist.
Today I’m positioned with my lower body higher than my upper and my legs spread far apart as Dr. Cameron peers between my thighs. He’s got a bright light on a strap around his forehead, and he’s using his largest speculum to spread open my vagina.
It hurts. A lot. It’s been more than three months since my spousal ceremony. Will and I have had intercourse every night I’m not on my period. I was hoping, since I’m now used to penetration, that the pelvic exam wouldn’t be so painful, but I was wrong.
I hold myself perfectly still, ignoring the tears beading in my eyes.
“All right, peaches,” Dr. Cameron says in the gentle, almost-singsongy tone he always uses. “Let’s see what’s going on down here.”
“Nothing has been hurting or anything,” I explain. “And my periods have been normal. I don’t understand why we’re not getting pregnant.”
“He’s ejaculating in your vagina regularly?”
“Yes. Every night.”
“What positions are you using?” He picks up a shiny tool and inserts it. I have no idea what he’s doing, but the poking around hurts even more. “You’re not on top, I hope.”
