“Love you too, pet.”
“Now go let our guest in before he thinks we’re standing him up.”
He nods once before leaving me alone in the bedroom. I continue taking drags of my spliff, wishing for the pain to lessen just once.
I let myself sink deeper into the mattress. This wasn’t how tonight—or this weekend—was supposed to go, but the flare-ups always did tend to screw up my plans. Exhaling slowly, the spliff begins to soothe the sharpest edges of the pain, but it doesn’t ease the disappointment snaking through me. I’m not sure what I hoped this weekend would bring, perhaps a chance for all three of us to be together after everything happened today between me and Kai. Instead, I’m stuck in bed, with my body betraying me yet again.
As I close my eyes and attempt to ride out the pain, I can’t help but think back on how far I’ve come. For a long time, I hated my body for what happened every month, in the days before and after my period. I missed opportunities, had important plans canceled, and even had some hopes shattered. It all made me feel so utterlybroken.Back when Julian and I were trying fora baby, I pushed myself through endless tests and treatments. I was convinced I could will my body into compliance. I had control issues, and this was the first time something was entirely out of my control. It was absolutely terrifying. But even after the diagnosis of endometriosis, even after knowing why nothing was working, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was failing.
At being a wife, a mother, awoman.
It took time and a lot of reflection, but I’m in a much better place now. Both Julian and I have let go of the pressure to conceive, and with it, so much of our stress has disappeared. I’ve stopped fighting my body. Some days, like today, are harder than others. But somehow, I’ve made peace with what I can’t control. We plan on adopting children one day, far in the future, when things have settled down, and I’ve had the surgery I need. But for now, I’m grateful for the life Julian and I share.
Especially now that we live here—now that we’ve finally let ourselves be happy, and found happiness away from the place that felt stifling for so long.
The bedroom door creaks open, pulling me from my thoughts. I open my eyes to see Kai and Julian stepping inside. Kai looks worried, like he rushed up here the moment Julian finished explaining.
“Hey.” His voice is soft and kind. He’s standing in the doorway with his hands shoved into his pockets, and my husband is lingering behind him.
“Hi,” I manage, my voice quieter than I intend.
Glancing between them, I wonder what Julian told Kai. For a second, I think about apologizing, but then I stop myself. I don’t need to apologize for this—Kai has already shown me he’s the kind of person who understands. He made that very clear last month when he laid down in bed with me—platonically, of course—until I fell asleep.
“Are you okay?” Kai asks, tentatively stepping forward. I nod, even though I’m not really okay, and something in his expression softens. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything tonight. Maybe we can watch a movie or something?” he asks, looking at the TV Julian set up in here last weekend.
“I’ll make popcorn,” Julian says, clapping Kai on the shoulder.
Something passes between them—understanding, or solidarity—I can’t quite place it. But it catches me off guard, and I feel a wave of gratitude for these men. They’re here, and they’re not making me feel like a burden.
That alone is a comfort.
Julian leaves Kai and me alone, and Kai steps closer, his movements careful. It reminds me of the last time he was here, how tentative he was, especially since I was naked in a bath. I almost laugh when I think of the look on his face when I stood up… the lazy way his eyes drank me in.
“Want me to sit with you for a bit?” he asks.
I nod again, unable to speak as another wave of pain works through me, radiating to my lower back. Closing my eyes, I attempt to breathe through it, but as always, it’s relentless. The mattress shifts as Kai sits on the edge of it.
“I don’t know what this feels like, but I can see how tough you are,” he tells me, taking the old spliff and discarding it. His warm, calloused hand envelops mine, and his thumb swipes across the top of my palm.
I let out a shaky breath, his words sinking in despite the pain. “It doesn’t feel like I’m tough right now,” I say, wincing.
“You are,” he says firmly. His hand around mine is grounding, and a second later, the pain starts to subside.
It never truly goes away, but the cramps come and go in waves, so I know I have a little bit of a reprieve.
“It’s okay to feel like crap. We’ll take care of you.”
His reassurance settles whatever leftover doubt was left in me, and I feel myself sinking farther into the mattress. Closing my eyes, I squeeze Kai’s hand when the next wave comes, and I come out of the haze of pain.
Julian reappears minutes later with a bowl of popcorn in one hand and, of course, a half-eaten Snickers bar in the other. He breaks off a piece, popping it into his mouth with the same reverence he’d give to caviar.
“Seriously? Snickers and popcorn?” Kai smirks as Julian flops onto the bed.
Julian shrugs. “It’s the perfect combo. Gas station chocolate hits different, and if I can’t have Cadbury…” He trails off, winking.
I laugh softly. The pain dulls just enough to let me appreciate how perfectly Julian straddles the line between decadence and simplicity.
“Julian might care about appearances but he lives like a slob at home,” I tell Kai.
