AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Carol sat at the back-corner table with her face to the door because it was the perfect seat for her to use when she wanted a little privacy, but also wanted to be able to see almost the whole café. Andrea sat to her left, and the entire table was spread with plates and saucers. Each of them held a sample sized serving or two of several new foods and desserts that Jacqui had wanted to try. Next to Andrea, there was a notebook where she was recording her thoughts and opinions for Jacqui.
It was the quiet time of day between lunch and the hour when the after-school crowd trickled in. At the moment, sitting near the front of the café, there were the normal customers that had nowhere to be and nothing to do for most of the day. Most of them were retirees, and they would spend their whole day playing games, telling stories, drinking coffee, and sharing snacks and small meals. They were great for the ambiance of the café, and they made it seem extra inviting to those who were visiting Living Springs, usually as some kind of "passing through" thing from a shopping trip in Atlanta, and they were truly low maintenance. Jacqui and Carol often trusted them enough to put one of the stainless-steel carafes of coffee out for them to reach easily and, sometimes, to set out a tray of cookies—knowing the older men and women wouldn't cheat them nickels and dimes for refills and additional cookies.
Andrea was Jacqui's favorite "tester" for everything she made, and Jacqui was in a creative mood. Andrea was honest, so she wouldn't allow them to try to sell anything that she really didn't think would turn a profit. This made her praise better than any false praise that someone else might offer. In addition, she really loved food, so she often had good suggestions for improvements, sides, or other dressings for the food that tended to work out quite well.
She also had pockets of time, throughout the day, when she had no customers, and she volunteered a lot of that time at the café. In exchange, she had a sign on her salon door that invited any walk-ins that might show up to come over to the café, ask for Andrea, and receive a free cup of coffee and a snack.
This brought new customers to the café, assured her business never suffered for her absences between scheduled customers, and meant that Carol and Jacqui never missed out on free waitressing, dish-washing, quality control, or simple company.
Her therapy sessions, too, were freely given.
"I don't like this," Andrea said, making a face at something she tried off of one of Jacqui's saucers. She turned around, like she was looking for Jacqui, but she knew as well as Carol did that Jacqui was cooking. "This—number 7?" Andrea wrote the number down in her notebook. "This is—bad. This is lemon, but…not a nice subtle lemon flavor, you know? This is…I'd rather just suck the lemon."
Carol laughed quietly to herself, thankful for even the momentary slip away from her own thoughts.
"What's good?" She asked.
"This is the best," Andrea said. "Three. This is like a—it's a…apple, cinnamon cupcake muffin thing. That doesn't do it any justice. It tastes like it's straight from heaven. I want to be buried with these…I hope she has at least a few that I can take home. Here—taste this."
Andrea held the food out to Carol, clearly intending to feed her the last remaining little piece of the cake that Jacqui had cut off to present as a sample. Carol shook her head.
"I really don't want to eat that," Carol said.
Andrea frowned at her.
"I feel like I know Daryl well enough to confidently say that he's not pressuring you about weight or calories…so?"
"I just don't want to eat the cake," Carol said. "Haven't you ever not wanted to eat something?" She was sharper than she really wanted to be, and she saw it on Andrea's face.
"No," Andrea said simply, eating the bite of cake herself. "I haven't ever not wanted to eat something. I always want to eat something, Carol. Now—do you want to tell me what's got you so…gloomy? You're really stomping on the good mood I was in."
Carol sighed.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," Andrea offered. "Just—tell me what's wrong. What's up?"
"Don't tell Merle," Carol said.
Andrea laughed to herself.
"Everything I tell Merle is on a need-to-know basis. It works better that way. He likes it. For instance, we're going apple picking this weekend to the cutest little farm just inside of Tennessee. And then we're spending the night and going to a little place that advertises they have a little pumpkin patch. And he doesn't realize that's a romantic weekend. He just thinks I have an obsession with fall fun and plants—so he's planning a garden in the spring. And I don't tell Merle any different. I just booked our little place for the night and I leave him happily not realizing that some people might consider that a serious getaway."
Carol smiled, welcoming the lightness that Andrea could bring to the table.
"It's nothing like that," Carol said. She touched her engagement ring, absentmindedly, and slid it back and forth on her finger.
"Something wrong in paradise?" Andrea asked.
"Not exactly."
"What do I have to do to get the exactly part of this?" Andrea asked, tasting another of her samples.
Carol accepted that she'd sat down here to talk to Andrea about her feelings. She'd sat down here to get her friend's perspective. She needed to tell her what was going on.
"It's probably going to sound ridiculous…"
"I'm a hairdresser," Andrea mused. "I practically have a Ph.D in listening to ridiculous things."
Carol took a breath and launched into it like ripping a band-aid off. Andrea didn't interrupt her. She ate with a look of mild interest, making notes by barely flicking her eyes away from Carol while she talked.
"I started my period yesterday," Carol said. "It was light. You know—like the warning that it's coming, but it's not all the way started. Today should have been my heaviest day. It always is. But, instead, it was still light this morning. Like—light, light. Like I somehow skipped the whole middle of it and now and it's just sort of tapering off."
"You're on your period?" Andrea asked.
Carol made a face.
"Were you listening?"
"I was! I mean—I heard you. But, I'm not on my period yet. It's not time. I don't think it's time."
"I know blood when I see it," Carol said.
Andrea lowered her voice and leaned toward Carol.
"You sure it wasn't from—you know—something getting a little too out of control? What? Don't make that face at me. It happens sometimes."
"It started at work," Carol said.
"I'm not on mine," Andrea repeated. "We're usually like perfectly in sync." She shrugged her shoulders. "It's probably stress, Carol. I mean the whole—getting married in a hurry thing. There's good stress, but it's still stress."
Carol put her hands on the table and leaned toward Andrea.
"It's menopause," she hissed. She sat back in her chair. Saying what she was thinking, out loud, suddenly gave it some reality. It gave it some weight. And that weight was heavy.
Andrea looked unbothered. Instead, she looked at Carol absolutely calmly. She was clearly waiting for more information.
"Did you hear me?" Carol asked.
"I heard you," Andrea said. "I just—don't know what to say. I mean—you haven't presented me with any proof that it's menopause and, I mean…what if it is?"
Carol frowned at her.
"It means—I'm out of eggs," Carol said. "Or almost out. And I can't go pick up another dozen or two at the store."
"My eggs are probably pickled by now," Andrea said, dragging her finger across one saucer and sucking off the leftovers of something that had spilled there. "But—I need to really understand why you're upset, Carol, because you're clearly upset. That's the only way I know which way this conversation needs to go."
"Daryl wants the whole thing," Carol said. "The whole perfect life fantasy. Home, marriage, family…love. All of it. Everything warm and wonderful…and…"
"But that's a fantasy," Andrea said. "I mean everything can't be perfect all the time. Or beautiful all the time. No matter how much I fix myself up at night to…to suit some fantasy that Merle has, he also has to accept the reality of the morning—when my hair doesn't look good, and my breath smells like morning breath, and I'm a little less like the goddess he pretended I was the night before, while he's making pancakes in a ratty ass bathrobe." She shrugged her shoulders. "The fantasy is fun for all of us, but it's the reality that we have to love the most."
Carol's throat felt hot, dry, and tight. She rubbed her face, somewhat out of needing to spend nervous energy, and she smiled to herself as she shifted her diamond back and forth on her finger.
"Do you love Merle?" Carol asked.
"What?" Andrea asked.
"I think—you just said you love Merle. Do you?"
Andrea's cheeks ran red, and she smiled to herself. She was clearly doing her best to swallow it back.
"I think—maybe I do," Andrea admitted, never really being one who felt the need to be too secretive with her feelings. "But I don't think Merle loves me. So—I wouldn't tell him. Don't tell Daryl."
"Your secret's safe with me," Carol said.
"We weren't talking about me, though. We were talking about—Daryl's fantasy."
"That's not fair to say it that way," Carol said. "Really—I didn't mean to say he's alone. I mean, I'm the same. I have so much that I want. That I've always wanted. And he gives me all of that. It's almost—even thinking about it now? It makes my stomach…uneasy. Just to think that one man could offer me so much…everything. It still doesn't seem real."
Andrea laughed to herself.
"I hope you won't take this the wrong way," Andrea said, "but as long as I've known you? Your dreams have been, well…relatively low-key. What exactly do you want from Daryl that it seems so impossible to believe that one man could give you? What do you get from him that's so incredible that you're worrying yourself over whether it's real?"
"Love," Carol said. "Acceptance—and I mean for…Andrea…he's not bothered by anything. He has none of those hang-ups about…you know…body…things."
Carol laughed to herself.
"Then he got that from his brother," Andrea said. "Nothing bothers Merle. He's very practical. Humans have bodies. Bodies do certain things, produce certain things…you know? And there's no need to be bothered by what the hell is nature."
"Have you ever known a man like that before?"
"To be fair, I don't think my track record of men should be one by which we judge the entire male population of the species," Andrea said.
"That's not the point anyway," Carol said. "I mean, it is the point, but it's not. My point is that Daryl is—incredible. And I want him to have everything he's ever dreamed of, you know? I feel like—he deserves that. I want to give that to him."
"From what I can see, he seems pretty happy. Merle says he's nearly over-the-moon all the time."
"He wants a baby," Carol blurted out. "No—that's not fair. I didn't mean it the way it came out. We want a baby. I want a baby. He wants a baby. We want one. And—it seems so perfect. The timing seems perfect. He's happy in his job. I'm happy in mine. We have room and…we're happy. And it's the perfect time and the perfect environment for a baby." Andrea was looking at her expectantly. "And now I'm starting menopause and I don't have any eggs left…and there won't ever be a baby."
"Jesus," Andrea said, frowning. "That whole perspective kind of took away my appetite."
"Now you know how I feel," Carol said. "The worst part of it is…"
She broke off long enough for Andrea to look at her, her whole face showing discomfort.
"There's more and it gets worse?" Andrea asked.
Carol shrugged her shoulders.
"Daryl could have everything," she said. "A man like Daryl is going to find a happy home with almost any woman. Any woman would be lucky to have a man who…who treats her like he does. He could still have a baby, and I'm just wondering if…if I'm holding him back, you know?"
"If I'd worked myself into the lather you seem to be in," Andrea said, "I might've stepped in front of a school bus or something this morning. Carol—Daryl loves you. There's no doubt about that in my mind. And I don't think he sees you as just some disposable baby factory."
"I didn't mean that," Carol said.
"No, but if you suggest that he'd just trade you for a younger staffed baby factory, you're not giving him tons of credit," Andrea said. "Have you talked to him?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"He says…he wants a baby if we have a baby," Carol said. "But—he wants me more."
"There you have it," Andrea said.
Carol could feel her face drawing down as it seemed to be pulled by the feelings churning in her gut.
"It's not fair. All this time and—why'd I have to start menopause now?"
"How do you know it's menopause?" Andrea asked. "Maybe it's just a really light period. Maybe it's just—some stress issue or…something. My flower usually behaves like clockwork as long as I treat her right. And I always take care of her. You know I'm serious about her needs. And even she has her fits sometimes. I'm telling you; I don't think it's time for your period. I think you've got some stress thing going on and you just need to relax and pamper yourself a little."
"You're younger than me," Carol said. "It's probably not the same for you. I haven't told Daryl about the menopause or…that it means that this probably really isn't going to happen."
"Just—before you make any decisions or anything? Make them with Daryl, OK? He loves you. It's obvious. And he wants to make decisions with you. Besides—even if it's menopause, it maybe doesn't just end everything at once, right? Maybe it's like a warning. A yellow light. All you need is one more egg, right? Maybe it's in there."
Carol laughed to herself. She reached her hand over and patted Andrea's arm.
"Are you—eternally optimistic?" She asked, teasing.
"Not at all," Andrea said. "Not really. Not when it comes to my own experience, but…I don't know, somebody's gotta be." She shrugged and her expression went serious and sincere. "You're my best friend. And I love you. And as much as you want Daryl to have everything, I want you to have everything. But—I don't want you to miss it just because you're afraid it isn't real or you don't deserve it."
Carol felt better, simply hearing Andrea's words. She nodded her head.
"What about—what you want? What you deserve?"
Andrea smiled to herself.
"I'm going apple picking this weekend," Andrea said. "And—Merle wouldn't admit it, but he's excited about carving jack-o-lanterns. I'm not doing too bad, all things considered."
"You deserve better than not too bad," Carol offered. "You know that, right?"
"Baby steps," Andrea offered. "I hope Jacqui has some more of those apple cinnamon things."
Carol laughed to herself.
"Tell you what—I'll go see."
