It's going to be a lot like Catharsis in these couple upcoming chapters. I have talked about that before. I am a terrible writer, I know. PS: the awaited drama is VERY close in case anyone still reads this. If you do, kindly review. Thank you guys. I can't believe I've been writing this for the past two years and I haven't given up on it. XOXO
Tegan
June 2012
We prepare the house for Emy's arrival, but, most importantly, we prepare our unnerved selves for the upcoming hurricane. We have not seen our best friend since we left Vancouver a few years ago. It's been a long time. All three of us have aged, grown, and become mature. Sara, specifically, has become wiser and stronger, which makes me feel better about Emy's visit.
It's not necessarily bad that she is visiting, and it's not necessary that we are going to engage in sexual activities like we used to; but there is something about her coming that leaves both Sara and I a bit restless. It's a vibrating energy that tells us the storm is coming.
The atmosphere is quiet and calm when we pick up Emy from the airport. She hugs us both, crying heavily on our ironed clothes. Her eyes scan both of us when we let go as she utters her first 'wow,' glancing at the prominent changes on our looks and bodies.
"Wow," she says again, out of breath, face flushed. "You guys look different but still the same somehow." Sara and I both laugh. "Wow," she repeats. "I missed you so much."
"We missed you, too," my girlfriend's soft voice answers her.
We eat dinner at our house and talk about the reason Emy's here. Sara and I sit close to each other while she faces us with a pale face and a defeated composure. Her long hair needs lots of taming, her eyes need makeup.
"Amber hates me," she says.
"I'm pretty sure she doesn't," Sara says.
"Yeah, she kinda does."
"Can you tell us everything from the start so we can help you?" I say.
"There's nothing to say that you don't know about. We've been trying to have a baby. She can't, so she wants me to carry instead. I don't want to, so she assumes I don't love her. She kicked me out of the house. I came here. We're gonna get a divorce."
Silence occupies a few minutes as Sara and I think of solutions to fix our friend's problem. The slow chewing of food rings in my ears as I imagine what I've been pondering about for the past few months. I look at Sara's deadpan face, then glance back at Emy.
"Why are you so opposed to the idea of carrying?" I ask her.
"I am not opposed to it," she answers. "I am just not ready for it. I don't think I can do it."
"I don't get it," I say, getting a foot kick from Sara. "I mean, you're ready to have a baby with her but not be the one carrying it? Or you're not ready to have a baby?"
"No, I want a baby right now." She rubs her forehead, trying to find the right words to convince me. Sara looks at me with a glare. Am I being pushy? I just don't understand what she wants is all. "I am not sure I can do the whole biological mother thing, the carrying, giving birth, breastfeeding, you know. My body and heart are not ready for that. I want to have a baby now but I want my partner to be the one who does these things." Tears start falling from her ocean-like eyes. Guilt begins to crown me. "The thing is there is nothing wrong with her, all the doctors said she's fine, it's just not happening for some reason unknown, and I've been convincing her to wait but she thinks I don't lover her enough."
"Emy," Sara speaks, "she knows you love her, we all know you love her, maybe you two need some time off in this particular moment to…to think things over. I don't think you two want to get a divorce, I just think you need a break to be with yourselves, to think better. Breaks always help, trust me."
After dinner Emy asks us to use the bathroom for a shower. We show her the guest bedroom and how to use the coffee machine in the morning. Sara kisses me in the kitchen as soon as we hear the bathroom's door closing. The gesture takes me by surprise, so I push her body against the counter to add to her kiss, suddenly heat and lust take over my entire body.
She pulls away smiling, but I kiss more and whenever she pulls away to grasp her breath, I push her for another kiss. We don't talk about it when we depart; we know that these kisses are a display of our passion; her thanking me for my change, my aid, and I thanking her for her patience and love.
I leave the kitchen to sit with Emy in the living room when she leaves the shower with hair wet and dripping on our couch, and eyes red and teary. I sit closer to Emy this time while my girlfriend prepares some drinks and snacks for the night.
"She's changed," Emy says in a whisper.
"Yeah, she has changed."
"She looks different, sounds different, she's aging."
"Her back isn't good," I say. "She looks older than she is, older than she feels."
"No, she looks young, her body looks older."
"I still love her." I shrug. "I love her more than ever. I don't care about her body, her face, or any of that."
"I know that." Emy chuckles. "I can see that." I smile at her politely, not knowing what to say. "I love you, guys. I love you so much." I'm not sure what kind of love she refers to, is it the past love? The sexual love? Is it just some platonic love? Is it friendly love?
We drink wine and eat some chips then fall asleep in our rooms. I go to work in the morning and when I get back, Sara and I take our friend out to the bar to free her soul out of sorrows for a temporary amount of time.
We lose ourselves in drinks and laughter but not enough to lose our sanity. However, when we get home, Emy asks for the unavoidable matter that we've feared from the start.
"You guys once promised me you'll always help me when I'm in need," Emy says before we get into our bedrooms.
"But Emy," Sara hesitates.
"You have Amber," I say.
"And we are in a monogamous relationship," Sara says.
"I know." Emy begins to cry. "It's not a sexual thing, it's a cleansing matter, I swear. I need it. I haven't had sex since a year ago."
"You're kidding," I say loudly, getting another foot kick from Sara. This time Emy notices it. "Sorry."
Emy shrugs. "Why? I told you Amber hates me. I just need it from my best friends, the people I trust most. Please, just this time, this one last time. It won't happen again. I won't ask for it again if you help me out tonight."
Maybe we haven't gotten intoxicated with alcohol, but after Sara and I discuss Emy's request separately in our bedroom, and agree to do what she's asked from us, I get absorbed in the sensation of memory loss for the past few years as soon as I end up naked with my girlfriend and our best friend right on our mattress.
Emy sits between Sara's legs, her back against Sara's chest while I lower myself between her legs. It feels as if I can hear the heartbeat of every woman in this room, but I know it's just mine. I have never cheated on Sara even in our darkest times. The only woman I slept with other than Sara since Sara and I have been together is Emy, and here I am again, sleeping with a grown up Emy, with her larger thighs, longer hair, and fuller breasts. Till this day, Emy has preserved her beauty; my juices are thick between my folds as I stare at her attractive parts.
While my lips hug her engorged clit, my eyes focus on her lips locked with Sara's. The way their eyes are closed, their hands touching each other's skin and their tongues swaying in peaceful harmony makes me full of rage, not because I'm jealous, but because I want to give Emy that same feeling Sara's giving her. I perfect my touches as if she is Sara. I close my eyes and dive in between her saturated lips. My tongue moves around till I fill her hole. I touch her clit with my fingers and squeeze, suddenly hearing a small squeal. I open my eyes, watching her eyes focused on me, mouth wide open, and nipples pinched tightly between Sara's fingers. The scene makes my hole ache.
When I make her come, she kneels down, grabs my face and kisses me with unfathomable passion that I feel my entire body on pins and needles.
I find myself on the mattress on top of my girlfriend suddenly. We start making out and rocking our bodies together. Before I can touch her folds, I feel an eerie pressure against my back. I turn around to watch our friend strapped, ready to lie on top of me from behind.
"Emy," I voice pathetically. "Wh…what are you doing?"
"I want to return the favor."
Before I can say no, Sara speaks through her sloppy, hungry kisses, "It's okay." Lust is taking over us, and I can't say no to lust when my nirvana's slowly crawling up to the seventh heaven.
"Sara," Emy says breathlessly, "get her pussy and I'll fuck her ass." I moan just hearing these words. It's been forever since Sara and I talked like that to each other. All of a sudden the spark is enlightened, twitching, glowing around us. Something steers us like animals in a fight. Sara's fingers fill me and Emy's toy makes me shriek when she pushes in. I am squeezed between two bodies, their heat and heady scents are hugging me. It feels like a ship swaying in the ocean, like someone wrapping their cautious arms around m; protection from each side, safety and pleasure.
When I come, they both leave me lying on top of Sara for a few minutes to get my strength back.
Emy chooses the yellow dildo to fuck Sara while I sit beside my girlfriend, kissing her the way she was kissing Emy. When her moans become louder, I lower my face against her chest and begin fondling her breasts with my mouth. I suck the two nipples and knead the heavy mounds. She touches my breasts in return, looking at them while kneading and playing with the jewelry. She closes her eyes with every push, hissing slightly. I look at Emy, noticing how fast and hard she is thrusting, making Sara's body shake. To help Sara reach her orgasm, I hug her right tit with my lips and suck as hard as I can, hearing her screams and moans of pleasure.
"Thank you," Emy says amidst the silence that follows the sex. "I needed that. I needed it so much."
"Are you okay, Tee?" Sara asks me, probably because my breath is still hitched and heavy.
"Yeah," I say. "I haven't had anal sex for a long time."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Emy says, sitting up. "Did I hurt you? Push you over the limits?"
"No."
Emy starts to cry. "I'm sorry, guys. I feel guilty I made you do this. It won't happen again, but I feel better."
"Don't cry," Sara whispers. "We're okay with it."
"Yes, we are. We wanted to help."
"It won't affect your relationship? I didn't think of that."
I look at Sara, smile at her, watch her own weak smile, then we kiss each other. "It won't, don't worry," I tell our friend.
Emy leaves us alone in our bedroom and heads to the guest bedroom. I move closer to Sara's body and kiss her exposed pale shoulder. She hums softly in return. "I knew that was gonna happen," I say. "Yet, I didn't think it would mean absolutely nothing to me."
"Yeah. I had a feeling," Sara says. "I'm sorry."
"It was nice and I needed it. I thought it would make me feel jealous and angry like those old times. I just feel relaxed and good."
She looks at me with her blazing orbs, she tries to read me and analyze my expressions in case I'm hiding lies I don't want to express. "You're totally fine?"
"Yes," I answer. "Are you?"
She nods, smiling. Her hand reaches my hair to push my fringe behind my red ears. "I love you," she whispers.
I kiss her shoulder again, too tired to move my body closer to her face.
"It won't happen again, though," she says. "I don't want anything to stand in our way. It always starts fun and nice and then it ends up bad. I just want the nice part; I don't want it to end up like last time."
"Of course. I know what you mean. I don't think she wants more than tonight, too. She really loves Amber."
"Yeah," Sara mumbles, "she does."
In the morning, we find Emy in the living room playing with Cyndi. Sara sits beside her while I make coffee and breakfast, hearing the small chat about Emy missing Amber. None of us talk about the night before. It's as if it hasn't even happened. The night before didn't move any kind of frustrated emotion within me, but it made the urge to talk to Sara about what's in my mind grow bigger. I am becoming impatient, waiting for Emy to leave, waiting for the right moment, fearing my girlfriend's reaction.
Later in the day Sara, Emy, and I walk around the streets of NYC so our friend can discover the city and buy a few things for home (which means Amber but she is too upset to admit that she loves her and thinks about her constantly). Part of me believes Emy regrets sleeping with us more than anything, the other part thinks she's thankful because it made her realize she has no feelings for anyone other than Amber, my other parts feel sorry for her and kind of guilty because maybe we shouldn't have let it happen; after all, she's still married to the other woman despite them not talking to each other.
I don't know about Sara's thoughts on the topic and, honestly, I'm too scared to open up the subject. Sometimes it's good to keep some stuff unsaid, that's what these six years with Sara have taught me.
"Tegan, I'm getting tired, can we sit?" Sara asks while we are walking with shopping bags in our hands.
"How about you guys get back and I'll continue my shopping spree? I kinda want to be alone with myself," Emy suggests.
"No," I say, "you won't know the way back home. There's a restaurant down the street. Sara and I will sit there and eat something. It's easier for you to meet us there than back home." Sara nods in agreement. "Plus, Sara's too tired. I don't think she can walk all the way back to the apartment."
"Yeah, my back is giving up on me," Sara mutters, her terrible mood crystal clear on her facial expressions.
As soon as we sit down, Sara swallows two pills of painkillers and half a bottle of water.
"Are you okay? Do you want us to go to the clinic?"
"No, no," she says quickly. "I'm fine. I'm just sore."
"Oh."
She nods, looking at the menu. "God, I'm hungry. Want something to eat?"
"Yeah, I could eat."
Sara orders her usual Caesar Salad while I choose a cheeseburger sandwich with extra fries, knowing salad will not fill Sara's appetite and she'll end up hogging all my fries. We eat in semi-silence; a small child from the table behind keeps poking my arm and then hiding his face. I look back and giggle, so he giggles, too. The first time he does it, I give him some fries, so he does it again and again. His mother apologizes and picks him up when he gestures that he wants to be picked by me.
"I'm so sorry. He's just a year and a half old," his mother says while he throws a tantrum in her arms. "I should never go out with him, it's embarrassing. Kids are embarrassing."
"No, no, it's fine. He's adorable." I look at Sara, who's smiling politely without saying any word. "He didn't bother us."
"Thank you. I'm glad," the mother says. "Have a nice day."
When the mother and her child leave, Sara gives me the strangest look with the wickedest smirk I have seen on her face since I first met her in 2004.
"What?" I say with a mouth full of meat.
She laughs loudly. "Don't chew and talk." I squint at her, which makes her laugh more. By now I know my face is red, I know I'm exposed. Fucking psychology people. "Finally got you alone to talk to you."
"Yeah?" I play dumb, even though I know she can see through me.
"Yup." She sips her orange juice, prolonging the silence to squeeze the confession out of me. She follows the same method as my mother, sometimes I feel like I am facing Sonia. When my mother was her age, she acted the same way; she even looked the same way. It's frightening. "So you don't want to tell me that you want a baby?"
I look at her for a few second, blink, then nod. "I do."
"I know." I shrug, looking down at my food. "You want us to make a baby, Tegan?"
I look up at her beautiful, vibrant smile; I look at the hope radiating from her eyes. "Yes, I want a baby with you."
"You want to carry?"
"I do." I pause. "I mean, if you want…it's okay."
"No, I don't think I can with my back." She chuckles lightly. "Plus, I have lots of pills that I shouldn't stop taking."
"What about me? I take pills, too. I mean that's what's scaring me, not taking them and then going crazy again."
"You're not crazy. You won't go crazy," Sara says. "We have to talk about this and discuss it well with Dr. Philips, but before all that we have to get you checked up to make sure everything is fine and your body's ready to carry."
"I have to tell Jeremy, too. To ask him, I mean." She raises her eyebrows. "I want him to be the donor; I thought I told you that before."
"Yeah, you did."
"Is there a problem with that? You want someone else?" My heart isn't beating, no it's racing with my words, with my thoughts, with everything; it's going to stop soon. Something's going to happen, something bad, I know it. Things can't be this easy. She doesn't want Jeremy.
"There's no one in mind, really. I just need to, uh, absorb all that. I need Emy to leave, too," she says. "You know, so we can talk about it more. I don't want you to tell her."
"Of course not."
"Or anyone."
"Why?" I ask in confusion.
"We can't tell anyone until it's real. I want it to be real."
"I want it to be real, too," I say. "But I want to tell my mother."
"But she'll make a big deal out of it," Sara says, "and what if something goes wrong? I don't want anything to go wrong." Sara's as scared, excited, and lost as I am. I take a deep breath and agree to what she says. It's so quick and so sudden that I can't fathom it at all.
What about our relationship? I haven't thought of that until she asks me in bed while we're trying to sleep.
"What about it?" I ask back.
"We're not…married."
"Oh."
"No, don't get me wrong. You know I'm not too yay on marriage but I mean, that, if you want us to get married to feel safer, I wouldn't mind it."
"You know I'm not yay on marriage at all, though."
"Okay." She takes a deep breath. "That makes me feel better."
Before I close my eyes and end this day, I ask, "Are you sure you're okay with us being just girlfriends and starting a family? I just want things to go smooth for both of us."
"Yes, Tegan," she mumbles, "I'm sure." She pauses for a moment then continues, "What would a piece of paper even change? We're better than any married couple, take Emy and Amber for example."
"Or my mum and dad." I laugh.
"Exactly." She yawns. "We have to do lots of thinking and consulting in the next few weeks."
"Do you think we can, uh, get it done, like next month when I'm ovulating or am I in too much of a hurry?"
"Honestly," she says with another yawn, "the faster the better." I open my tired eyes and search for her face in the dark. "I've been planning to talk to you about it since I saw your Google search history last month, but I was afraid. I'm getting bored at the house alone, and Cyndi's stupid." She laughs slightly. "I hope I'm not just rambling while you're asleep, but yeah, I want a little human to take care of. I'm getting older and this motherly instinct suddenly feels too strong."
Her words move me in different ways that I forget sleep. I lie on top of her, making her gasp. I start kissing her to awaken her needs. We end up making clam and quick love while our friend is asleep in the room opposite to ours. Both of us wake up with better moods in the morning, knowing there is something waiting for us. Even though our fear that the hope we have might take an ugly turn with disappointment is dancing in the background, we are remaining hopeful.
Two days later, after an extremely emotional video call between Emy and Amber, Emy decides to get back to Canada because the break is shattering her relationship more than it is helping it restore the previous fire.
As soon as Emy leaves, Sara and I head to our gynecologist to get tested. Three days after, I receive the results: I am fertile, perfectly healthy; my body's more than ready to procreate. Therefore, we call Jeremy as soon as we finish screaming idiotic songs on the way back home.
"Yes," Jeremy says.
"Yes?" I holler.
"Yes," he repeats.
"Yes?" Sara says again, calmer this time. "Are you sure? Really?"
"Yes," he says again with laughter. "Let's be real, I never thought you were serious, but I promised I'd help when you needed," he continues. "Plus...my sperm is more than ready."
"Eww, keep it to yourself, dude."
"Umm, I think you want it in you more than you want me to keep it to myself."
"Jeremy, please," Sara says. "I don't want to think of your sperm in my girlfriend's vagina for the love of God."
"But that's how it's going to happen, genius."
"We know," I say. "But we don't need the visuals and description you're giving us, we just had lunch."
"You two are too gay for me."
"Says the gay dude," Sara comments.
We have sex in great abundance these few weeks. Fear is still smirking in the back but we're trying to ignore his mocking shadow.
Before we start anything, we decide to consult Dr, Philips about the alternative medication I can take to stay mentally healthy and stable.
"I encourage this move, Tegan." Sara squeezes my hand with a smile on her bright face. "Your hormones and emotional state will alter slowly throughout pregnancy. However, I want to you know that it might take you some time to get pregnant because what you are taking works as birth control for some women, and you could be one of them. Is there any way we can find out if it is or not, not really. You just have to try." I look at Sara, whose smile has disappeared and brows have risen. "As for a substitute, then you don't need to worry about that at all. I am going to prescribe another medication that works with pregnancy; however, you will need to increase your therapy sessions as soon as maternity starts because the emotional state that you will be in throughout the nine months might be hard for you to adjust to, and it's not because there's something wrong with you alone, but I believe every woman should seek therapy while she is carrying, it's healthier for the mind and body."
We return home with despondent hearts and anxious minds. When I refuse to eat dinner, Sara hugs me, whispering soothing words in my ears, "She didn't say you can't carry. She said it will take some time." She sighs. "Actually, she said it might."
"She's right, though. I was just too happy that I fucking started imagining turning the guest bedroom into a freaking nursery. It's too soon. We can't do anything until I am actually knocked up."
"And you will be, very soon. Jeremy's coming in two days. You're ovulating next week. You never know."
I shake my head. "No, she's right. It's going to take time, Sara. I don't even know what my body is like. I could be like Amber or Jane."
"Hey, Jane has a baby now." Sara strokes my hair, laughing at my silliness, or trying to pretend that it is silly that I am worrying when it is actually true what I am apprehending.
This next week passes by slowly and with too much intensity that I break down three times at work in front of Joe, which makes me start worrying about something else; work and pregnancy, work and a child. Sara can't do it all alone, can she? I also break down in front of Jeremy and Sara while we discuss the matter. They comfort me, but it's hard for me to relax.
I lose sleep for an entire week till the day comes and we head to the gynecologist to get started with the process.
"It's not going to hurt," Sara whispers, holding my hand. "Let go of my hand, I want to see when she does it." Sara laughs.
"No, please stay here." I know it's probably amusing my doctor and my girlfriend that I am crying with fear in my eyes, but I can't control any of my emotions at this particular moment. It feels like I am possessed with the need to have a child and the fear of having it all at once.
"You won't feel it," the doctor says. "Relax, close your eyes." Sara rubs my hand as I close my eyes, or, actually, squeeze them shut. I feel a hand on my thigh, knowing too well it's my girlfriend's, stopping me from shaking. "Open your eyes."
"You're done?" I say with squinted eyes.
"Yes," Sara says. I open my eyes fully, watching my girlfriend smiling. She leans down to kiss me. "Did you feel it?"
"No," I say in astonishment, making my doctor laugh. "Is it going to work?" I say loudly, like a little kid.
"You have to wait and find out."
"Great, so now I'm going to wait for my period, hoping it won't come then get shocked when I see blood down my underwear," I ramble to Sara in the car as she drives us back home. "Fuck, watch out," I yell.
"Don't talk with that voice; I'm trying to fucking get past that motherfucker. You fucking piece of shit, move," Sara screams. "I hate New Yorkers." We both chortle as we escape another one of Sara's almost accidents. She can win the award of worst driver in history and wouldn't feel bad about it; because she is plain horrible and I wouldn't trust her driving without me by her side. However, I encouraged her to get her license a year ago even though she didn't want to. Frankly, it was about time, and now I am thankful she took her license because with a possible child, we need another person who can drive.
"Do you think I'm pregnant now?" I ask.
"Maybe," she mutters. "I want you to lie down on your back and raise your legs when we get back."
"Haven't I done a lot of that at the clinic? What does it even do anyway?"
"I don't know," Sara says with a shrug. "It pushes the sperm in or something like that. We'll Google it at home."
"Can we order food, please?"
"Sure, but not Mexican, pizza, Chinese, or Indian."
"Then what? Nothing's left."
"I don't know. Uhh…" She pauses, thinking. "Pasta."
"Noooo," I whine. "Don't you get sick of pasta?"
"Don't you get sick of pizza?" she asks.
"Nope."
"Well, nope, too," she says mockingly. I pinch her arm playfully, making her squeal.
When we get back, we forget about food and have sex for three hours. Before falling asleep, I ask, "Do you think I'm pregnant?"
"If I had a dick, you would be."
I guffaw, slapping her arm in the dark.
"Oww," she screams. "You slapped my boob."
"That's your boob?" I touch her breast again, laughing obnoxiously to tease her. "I was like why is her arm so fluffy, but yeah it's just the boob."
"Shut up." She slaps my breast in return, making me scream. "See, it hurts."
"Fuck, you know what I just remembered?"
"What?"
"I'll have to remove the jewelry if I get pregnant because my nipples will probably be very sore."
"Yes," Sara says.
"Will milk ooze out of three holes?"
"You're weird. I didn't even think of that," Sara mumbles through her loud yawn.
"You know what; I should stop thinking about that. It didn't even happen yet."
"Yes, go to sleep. You have to go to work in the morning."
"Fuck you for reminding me." I turn around, burying my face in my pillow.
"I love you, too, Teetee."
I hear her soft sigh before we end the night, smiling that we have reached this state of love and trust in our relationship that took us back to joking, mocking, and teasing. I never thought this could happen, never thought we'd overcome our sorrows and issues, but here we are now, waiting for a possible child while burying our fears beneath our bed.
Work is tiring as usual, but it passes by quickly because we spend it in meetings as we study our plans for the second half of 2012 and the first half of 2013. If I end up being pregnant, the next year will be one heck of a tiring, exhausting year; but I am more than ready to tackle it the way I am imagining in my head.
"So I will send Joe, Catherine, Ryan, and Dorothy to Beijing in two weeks for the Annual Exchange Program," I tell a few of my employees in the last meeting of the day. "I know it's a long trip, but I trust you four to represent our company the way your colleagues did last year."
"Ms. Rain, why not choose them again?" Joe asks.
"I don't like choosing the same people over again. We are a global company, we are well-known, we have our name and we have many employees. Sending the same people again will give us a bad image, people notice these things. We want insurance companies to trust us, and that's by sending different people each year to show that we trust our employees, and that's the truth. If we don't trust every employee working for us, other companies won't trust us to handle their finances."
"How long is it going to be?" Dorothy asks.
"A month. Might get extended fifteen days like they do each year, so about forty-five days."
"That's a very long time, boss," Joe says.
"I know that. I know you have children, Joe. But you know this is a great opportunity for you, and the trip means extra payment over two months' salaries." The four cheer, Dorothy and Catherine high-five each other. "Is that a good deal?"
"A great deal," Joe says.
When I get home, I find Sara crying a fountain with our cat in her hands. What rushes to mind, for sure, are the possible injuries, pains, or issues expected from Sara.
"My dad is very ill," Sara says with heavy tears streaming down her face. "The doctors say he's going to pass away soon."
I can provide nothing but solace and comfort hearing these bad news. For two days straight, Sara doesn't stop crying. If she stops, she shouts and yells at silly things like my dirty shoes on the carpet, my dirty laundry with my clean clothes, using her creams with unwashed hands, and so on.
"Be patient with her," my mum says. "You've been patient throughout all that you guys have been through, but now you're angry? It's the first death in her family, it's normal. You cried over your grandmother like that, remember?"
"I was close to mama; she's not very close to her dad, that's what's confusing me."
"That's mean of you to say. It's her father." Mum doesn't know it's not her real father, she doesn't know Sara's sadness is the outcome of her guilt that she tried to push him away all these years by trying to find her birth parents, she doesn't know that I am angry because Sara has not even thought to ask about me, possibly, being pregnant. I know nothing is clear yet, but I expected her to care more about it.
After four days, Sara's tears halt when her mother tells her that her father is getting better. "But they said…" She sighs, nodding. "Okay." I look at her while reading the book in my hand. "Okay, I'll try."
A week later, Sara still doesn't question whether I have started or not. I am a day late, which means absolutely nothing because I'm always late or early, never on time. However, by now, I am more than sure that Sara has forgotten about the entire pregnancy topic. I cry alone at work, knowing that Sara doesn't care at all about me and the possible fetus in my belly. Since Sara doesn't care, I decide not to get a pregnancy test so I wouldn't depress myself more with the probable negative result.
When I get back, I start to feel the pain of cramps, which makes me more upset, refusing to eat dinner. I cuddle up with Cyndi and hide in bed while Sara works on her computer. I take a two hours nap and wake up to Sara's gentle voice calling my name.
"Your dad's on the phone," she says.
"Put him on speakers," I mumble.
"Hey, Stephen, you're on speaker with Tegan."
"Tegan," my dad says.
"Hi, dad," I greet without any type of enthusiasm.
"What the hell did I hear about you not going to the Annual Exchange Program?"
"Yeah, I'm not going." I groan. "I chose Joe, Dorothy, Catherine, and Ryan."
"You are going," he says with a grave, determined octave. "This year you are going."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"I can't leave Sara for a month and a half."
"Sara's a grown woman who can take care of herself." I look at Sara; she provides no expression that can show her reaction. "Listen, Tegan, you're going and that's final. The previous years I was okay with you not going only because you and your girlfriend had issues, she was physically unable to be on her own, and you were mentally unable to be away from her. You've been okay for the past two years, and it's time we send the GM of the branch, and that's you. Book your flight."
"But Dad, just let…"
"Work is work. I am not your father when it comes to work. Goodbye, Tegan."
When dad hangs up, Sara wraps her arms around my body as I start to cry. I don't know why his words make me cry, but somehow I can't stop. It's been a terrible week and his call made it worse. I'm not used to stay away from Sara. I can't stay away from her that much.
"Come with me," I whisper.
She shakes her head, kissing my temple. "I can't."
"Why?"
"I want to go see my parents. I want to see my dad." And here I thought she would be sad that I'm leaving, but I guess it makes her happier, this way she can see her father. It's not like I would have said no if she asked me if she could travel.
"Okay." I get up and head towards the bathroom.
"My father's dying," she tells me in bed at night. "I haven't been in the mood for anything, I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize. It's okay."
While packing my suitcase two days later, I place the box of tampons right on top of everything, just in case I get my period throughout the trip. I watch Sara staring at the box, waiting for her to ask, but the question never comes. If I haven't been disappointed before, this makes me spend my entire flight in tears that my girlfriend does not give a single fuck about starting a family with me.
Emy calls me the second morning in Beijing. "Is Sara okay?"
"Her dad is sick," I respond, lazily making my coffee because I feel too tired to get down and eat with my team in the hotel's restaurant.
"No, no, no. There is something wrong. I know Sara, something is bothering her."
"No, it's because Sander is dying. She's going to see her parents, I think in two days."
"She told me," Emy says. "Amber and I are working things out. Trying, actually."
"I'm happy for you," I say without any happiness in my voice.
"Are you and Sara okay?"
"Yes, why?"
"Something is going on."
"No, it's just jet-lag and I don't want to be in freaking China right now when my girlfriend is grieving."
"Okay." And that shuts Emy up.
A week later, I decide it's time to get a pregnancy test. Sneaking from the people with me is hard and I don't understand pharmacies in this place at all, so I end up postponing that project until I wake up two days later puking all the food I have consumed the previous day.
"Okay," I whisper to myself. "It's time." I'm not sure when women start getting morning sickness, but I feel like it's too fast. It's been only a little bit over three weeks since the insemination, it can't be that quick.
I sneak out of the hotel in the afternoon before our event. At this time everyone's in their rooms resting after a shopping spree that they usually take in the morning. I joined them twice and gave up after, deciding to video chat Sara or my mum in that time. Sara still hasn't brought up the pregnancy till now.
I return with three different tests. I'm not sure how accurate these are. I have about three hours of drinking water and peeing to find out. I decide to tell Sara what I'm doing, but my anger stops me. This moment should be shared, that's how I imagined it. We should be together, squealing, laughing, crying, and waiting; but she doesn't care.
When the three tests give me a positive result, I cry for an entire hour on the bathroom floor; part of it fear, part of it joy, the other is anger and sadness that my girlfriend probably does not want this child, does not care about it, does not care about the fact I am a little bit over three weeks pregnant.
I almost end up telling my mother that night but then I decide not to do that. The second day I wake up fine, without any morning sickness or strange feelings; however, I feel slight soreness in my breasts. Sara calls at 11:17 to inform me that her father has been hospitalized. When I hear her heavy cries, I forget about my anger, my pregnancy, and my sadness. Maybe she hasn't thought of it much because of that.
"I'm going to lose him any second now," she says through the phone. "I want you here with me more than anything now." Her hiccups are heartbreaking. I can't take them so I start crying with her.
"I'll be here as soon as I finish."
"It's a long time. Such a long time."
The pregnancy symptoms start to attack me in the next week. I wake up with sore breasts and terrible mood, and sleep with queasiness. I have never been on a trip as tiring as this and I should probably be resting. I have to stand on my feet for hours, meeting business men and business women, making connections and laughing at terrible jokes in a tight suit and uncomfortable shoes. When I enter my fifth week of pregnancy, I call my doctor to tell her the news because that's the only person I can trust at the moment. I ask her not to inform Sara.
"It's a surprise," I lie. If I tell her Sara's in the dark about it, hasn't even asked; she might be worried and might tell Sara. So this lie is much better.
"You need to get examined, to see how your body's working with the pregnancy. Be careful. I recommend getting back home and taking some time off. This is your first pregnancy and your symptoms seem strong."
In the sixth week, waking up is always followed by puking my guts out in the bathroom. Almost every smell makes me want to throw up that all my employees start wondering what's going on. One morning I wake up sore, tired, feeling like absolute death. I vomit for hours without any stop that I get a call from my father asking me if I am okay.
"Joe told me you've been sick."
"I'm fine," I say, groggily.
"Is it food poisoning? What did you eat?"
"I don't know. I think it is."
"Take the day off, stay in bed. Stay hydrated."
An hour later, mum calls to say the same things. I'm too tempted to tell her, but I don't want to explain. I don't want Sara to know until she decides to remember.
However, three days later, I get a call from Sara crying hysterically. "Dad passed away last night." I hear nothing but sobs and hiccups. "I went to get him water and when I got back he was dead. I'm terrified. His eyes were open."
I take the next flight to Toronto at night. I spend half the flight puking in the plane's bathroom and the other half crying from the pain and soreness I'm in.
When I get there, I find everyone in black, in tears, in misery. I hug Sara, who cries for hours on my shoulder till she falls asleep. Joy still hates me. When I ask her for a glass of water, she ignores me. Emy and Jane arrive the next morning for the funeral. I spend it in the bathroom throwing up with a bad fever.
"You seem tired," Sara says as we get ready for the funeral.
"Bad flight. Bad trip. So tiring."
After the funeral, Jessica comes up to me with a plate full of food. "You're making me worry. Please eat this. You've been puking all morning." She places her hand on my forehead. "Oh, dear, let's get you to bed, you're burning." As soon as I stand up, I lose balance and consciousness of what's around me. I fall down on the floor, making Sara scream from the opposite side of the room. Rob picks me up to Sara's bedroom, where I sleep immediately with cold, wet towels over my forehead.
I wake up in the morning just to puke then go back to bed as chilliness hit my body. Emy comes inside with a plate full of fruits. She helps me eat, but I end up emptying my stomach again. I wish I can tell her, I wish I can tell anyone, but Sara has to know first and it seems that Sara doesn't want to know.
"You should go to the doctor," Emy says. "Sara's too depressed to notice anything. Jessica will take you."
"I'm fine. It's just because of the flight and all."
By noon, I start to feel very sick. Fear and worry start to take control of me as pain takes over my body. Jessica comes inside to check on me, offering to take me to the doctor but I refuse. I take a nap and wake up to the sound of shouting.
"People die, that's life. People fucking die," Jessica's loud voice rings in my ears. "You're not twelve. He was sick. Stop doing that. You're blaming yourself over something you didn't do. Your partner is sick as fuck and all you care about right now is someone dead. He wouldn't want to see you in this fucking state, he would mock you, he would think you're a loser. Your partner is puking her guts out and you didn't go to your room once to check on her. You're sulking alone in the dining room as if it would get him back to life."
"Stop, fucking stop," Sara shouts back. "I am horrible, I know. I am fucking horrible. I always wanted to get rid of you and him and I feel terrible. And now I am being horrible to Tegan, and I don't know how to go there in the room and comfort her when I am this messy."
"He knows you loved him. He knows you appreciated everything he did and said to you, Sara. Don't do that to yourself."
"But he doesn't. That night before he died, he said that he knows he pushed me over my limits, made me hate myself, made me doubt myself, hurt myself, and that he was the reason what happened to me has happened. I couldn't even say no, because he asked for water and I got him water and he was dead. I just wanted to let him know that he did nothing of that, that without him, I wouldn't be where I am now." While my girlfriend cries right outside her bedroom, I cry softly in her bed.
Jessica calms her down some more, till they both come inside to find me awake. Sara kisses my dry lips, but I pull away quickly, turning my face with a groan. "I'm sorry," she says.
I ignore her sorry and jump up to run to the bathroom, once again freeing nothing but the remaining fluids in my stomach. "We should get you to the doctor," she says. I look back at her with a squint in an attempt to let her think about what she has said. She looks at me with a puzzled look, so I just shake my head. "Look, get some rest now. I'll get you some fluids. You have to drink something. In the morning we're getting you tested." The irony almost makes me laugh, almost makes me shout at her that I have been tested, but I say nothing instead.
I wake up to the nice breeze coming from the window and Emy's soft voice chatting with Jessica and Joy.
"Morning," Jessica says. I look at the three women sitting on Sara's bed, staring at me. "Sara went to run some errands, she said it's urgent." She shrugs.
"So we thought we'd keep you company in case you wake up sick like yesterday," Emy says.
"She seems fine," Joy comments.
"I'm better."
"Want to try eating something?" Jessica asks. "I don't know why you always get terribly ill whenever you visit. It's like you're allergic to Sara's room."
"We have omelets," Emy says, helping me sit up. I look at my side, the yellow omelet beside me on the nightstand. The smell suddenly enters my nostrils, getting sharper and uglier. My stomach starts to flip, telling me to get up. Before I could move, Emy puts up the trash can between my hands so I can hurl in it.
"Okay, disgusting, I'm going away." I continue puking as Joy's voice rings in my ears.
"That's it, she needs to see a doctor," Jessica says, helping me rest on my back again. Just say it, just fucking tell her that you are pregnant but freaking Sara doesn't give a fuck.
Just then Sara enters with a bag in her hands. "Tegan, can I be alone with you?"
"What's that?" Emy says while Jessica rubs my back.
"Honey, she needs to see a doctor."
"Umm, I just need to talk to her about something first."
Oh, good, looks like she remembered. I shake my head; tears quickly begin to flow out of my eyes.
"Tee?" Emy asks. "What's going on?
"What's that in your hand, Sara?" I ask.
She empties the bag on the mattress. Five different pregnancy tests fall on the mattress. Emy gasps, Jessica stares with a deadpan face at both of us.
"I think you might be..." She bites her lower lip. She has actually fucking forgot about it. "I didn't think…I mean, I forgot because I didn't think it would...I mean, I saw the tampons in your suitcase and I just assumed..."
"Sara," I cut her off, "I'm a little bit over 7 weeks pregnant. I took the freaking test in China. I was just kindly waiting for you to fucking remember."
Before wide-eyed Sara can say anything, Emy storms out of the room with a suppressed, loud sob. Well, that's just great.