Battle Hearts

by Nina Levine

  “No, nothing, but I’m working with Axe and Zane on it. I’ll keep you updated.”

  “Thanks, brother.” I spot Max. “Is Ransom with you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can you let him know I won’t be back today. Tell him to call me if anything comes up.”

  “Will do.”

  We finish the call and I shove my phone in my pocket as Max comes to a stop in front of me, a grin on his face. “Happy fucking birthday, brother,” he says before pulling me in for a hug.

  Fuck, it’s good to see him. While we talk often, there’s nothing like seeing someone you love in person. “You need to visit me more often,” I say as I let him go.

  He nods. “Yeah, I do.” He looks around like he’s looking for someone. “Where’s Birdie? I thought she was coming with you.”

  “She got called into work this morning. You’ve got me for the afternoon.”

  “Fuck. She let me down. An entire afternoon with just you.”

  I shake my head, grinning, too. My brother’s friendship with my wife is something special. Something I wouldn’t change for the world. Jerking my chin, I say, “Come on, let’s get out of this place. You got a bag to collect?”

  “Nah.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we’re on the road heading towards home. Glancing at Max, I say, “You wanna grab some lunch at the pub?”

  “Yeah and I’ll have some drinks for you since you’re still on the baby-diet. How are you going with that?”

  It’s been just over three months that I’ve been following a clean-eating, no-alcohol diet while also trying to get a decent amount of sleep each night, and the truth is I feel in the best shape of my life and surprisingly don’t miss the booze much. I start to answer his question, but his phone rings.

  Holding it up to show me the caller ID, he says, “Your wife loves me almost as much as she loves you.”

  Fuck, I love her for this.

  He answers the call and puts her on speaker. “Birdie. You ditched me.”

  Her laughter fills the car. “Maxxi! You’re in Melbourne?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “Was the flight good?”

  “Only if you count a screaming baby two rows ahead as good.”

  “Bugger. Well, you’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

  “What time do you finish work?”

  “I’m hoping to get out of here in the next hour or two.”

  “Tell me you’re planning on cooking your famous ribs.”

  “Oh God no, they have too much sugar in them for me and Winter. I thought we could try this new restaurant I found yesterday. One of the girls at work is raving over it.”

  “It’s not a vegan restaurant, is it?”

  “Well,” she says, “kinda. Maybe. But don’t tell Winter, k?”

  I chuckle. “Angel, I’m right here.”

  “Shit,” she mutters. “Well—”

  Max cuts her off. “It’s his birthday. We can’t force him to eat green shit on his birthday.”

  “I would argue that,” she says. “He’ll be getting his dick sucked after dinner. Surely that’ll keep him happy.”

  After a year of dealing with Birdie and her love of saying shit to him that she knows he may be uncomfortable with, my brother doesn’t even blink at her dirty language. “We’re supposed to have all the things we love on our birthday, Birdie. I would argue that only getting his dick sucked doesn’t cover everything he loves in that department. You need to up your game. And on top of that, we’re not taking him to a fucking vegan restaurant to celebrate his birthday. I’ll find a restaurant.”

  “When did you get so good at this?” she says. “I remember the days when you practically choked if I uttered the D word.”

  I grin at their banter and say, “Baby, you’re gonna have to come up with some new material I think.”

  “I can see that,” she says. “Okay, I gotta go, but I just wanted to say I’m so happy you’re here, Max. And I can’t wait to see you and hug the shit out of you.”

  “Right back at you,” Max says. They’ve come a long way from the days where he was awkward as fuck with Birdie’s displays of affection.

  “And, baby?” she says to me. “I’m gonna do more than just suck your dick tonight.”

  With that, she’s gone, and I’m left thinking about her lips around me. “Christ,” I mutter.

  “You’re telling me,” Max says. “I’m waiting for the day she stops with the dick talk.”

  “You have no idea what’s coming for you, do you?”

  “You think I should go back to my old way of dealing with her filthy language?”

  “It’s too late for that, brother.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I figure too. Jesus.”

  I grin at him. “The perks of being loved by Birdie.”

  He hits me with a smile. “Yeah.”

  We turn silent for a beat before he says, “How are you guys going with everything?”

  “Good so far. Birdie’s had a couple of side effects from the first round of drugs, but she’s doing well with it.”

  “She called me a couple of days ago and said she was in menopause. What’s that about?”

  I laugh. “Yeah, she’s roaming around the house complaining of hot flushes and menopause. These drugs she’s on at the moment suppress the ovaries, which puts the body in a menopause-like state. They call it downregulation. She’s been having hot flushes and headaches.”

  “And extreme moods from what I could gather during our call.”

  I nod. “She’s been a little irritable and emotional at times, but that was to be expected.”

  “You guys are describing it very differently.”

  I look at him. “In what way?”

  “If I go by what you’re saying, it’s a blip in your life. Just something you were expecting. If I go by what Birdie said, it’s a huge, monumental time in her life that she’s struggling with. I think she’s feeling quite overwhelmed by it all, Matt.”

  I contemplate that. “Birdie experiences her feelings intensely, so yeah, this feels huge to her. I know she’s feeling that, but it’s just the drugs.”

  “It doesn’t sound like fun.”

  It isn’t, and I’m not the one dealing with the physical ramifications of what we’re doing. Birdie’s only on her ninth day of injections, with more weeks ahead still. I’m hopeful this downregulation part of the journey achieves its goal sooner rather than later so she can move onto the next stage where they’ll stimulate her ovaries to produce the eggs. I am aware, however, that downregulation can take longer for some women, so I’m prepared for that.

  Wanting to talk about something other than the thing I spend most of my time talking about these days, I say, “How’d your date go the other night? You gonna see her again?”

  Max gives me a knowing look. My brother is, after all, the more emotionally-in-touch one of us. He knows I need a change in subject. “Yeah, I’m gonna see her again. She was fucking amazing.”

  He then catches me up on everything happening in his life, from the date to his kids, his job, and his new love of triathlons and all the training he’s doing. The thing that strikes me the most is how much he’s sharing. Over the years he was married to Melissa, he slowly shut down on offering information about his life. Or maybe he simply hadn’t had much to share. Either way, it’s fucking good to see him this damn happy.

  “That was the best steak of my life,” Max says later that night as the three of us sit and catch up after we return home from the restaurant he chose for my birthday dinner.

  Birdie snuggles against me on the couch, bringing her legs up to rest on mine. “Did you love your steak, too?” she asks me.

  Lifting my arm, I put it around her. “I agree with Max; it was the best I’ve ever had. We need to eat there again.”

  She smiles up at me. “I’m glad. And yes, we do.”

  The thing neither of us voice is that thanks to the cost of IVF, eating at that rest
aurant again isn’t something we’ll be doing any time soon. Our budget is super strict, shutting down any plans we may have had for renovating the house we bought a few months ago, and definitely restricting our option to eat out often. Tonight’s dinner was a birthday present from Max, who paid for our meals.

  “What have you got on tomorrow, Birdie?” Max asks.

  “I have a few classes to run at work in the morning. After that, I’m all yours.” Her eyes find mine again. “What have you got on?”

  “Not a thing. I’m free all day.” Max is here for another day and a half, and unless something urgent comes up, my schedule is free.

  “Good,” Max says. “I’ve got a list of things for us to do while I’m here.”

  “Ooh, tell me,” Birdie says, her voice laced with excitement. It’s not real excitement, though; it’s forced. Max wouldn’t notice it, but I haven’t missed it each time it happened throughout the day. Something’s not right with her, and I want to get her alone so I can ask what it is.

  Max rattles off his list, which includes some sightseeing he wants to do. Birdie forces her excitement again, concerning me, but I don’t voice that. If she’s trying to give Max the impression she’s excited when she’s not, I know she won’t appreciate me saying something in front of him.

  After they discuss the list, Max looks at me and says, “I’m gonna hit the hay. I’m exhausted.”

  Birdie shifts, allowing me to stand and hug my brother. “Thanks for today.”

  Max catches the emotion behind my words and smiles. “Yeah. It’s good to see you guys.”

  “Night, Maxxi,” Birdie says, hugging him and using the name he allows only her to call him. “Sleep well.”

  Once we’re alone, she places her hand to my chest and says, “Did you have a good birthday?”

  “Yeah, but I’m concerned about you. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Why?”

  “Birdie, don’t bullshit me. Are you not feeling well?”

  Clutching my shirt, she presses her body to mine. “I’m fine.” Standing on her toes, she brushes a kiss across my lips. “Take me to bed. I wanna wrap my lips around you.”

  “Fine usually means anything but that, angel. Talk to me.”

  She lets go of me. “I said I’m fine; I’m fine.” The bite in her tone lets me know she’s now pissed.

  When she turns away from me and takes a step to leave the room, I reach for her, my fingers curling around her wrist. “Don’t do that.”

  She allows me to pull her back. “Do what? Offer to do the one thing you always want?” More bite.

  Doing my best to ignore her mood, I say, “Don’t shut me out.”

  “I’m not shutting you out. I just don’t want to talk about how I’m feeling, so stop asking me.”

  “I can understand that, but we’re partners in this, and—”

  “Yeah, well I’m the one who’s actually dealing with the shit these drugs cause, so I should be the one who gets to decide if I wanna talk about it or not.”

  Fuck.

  Birdie’s moods have been up and down, and all over the place since the day I came home and found her in the bath. It’s been four days of not knowing which wife I’ll get each time we speak or see each other. If I ever thought her PMS was bad each month, I had no idea what bad was.

  Choosing my words carefully, I say, “Fair enough. Are you in pain, though? Can I get you anything to help?”

  Sighing loudly, she nods. “I’m sore all over. Maybe some Advil.”

  I fucking hate that she’s going through this. I’d do anything to be the one who has to deal with this pain. Jerking my chin towards the hallway, I say, “Go get in bed; I’ll be in soon.”

  She does as I say and exits the lounge room. I locate the heat pack, water bottle, and Advil, and take them to her.

  She’s under the covers, curled into a ball on her side. Looking up at me as I sit on my side of the bed, she takes the water bottle and heat pack. When she lifts the covers to position them, I see she’s changed into one of my T-shirts. It’s one of the “wife” range of tees she’s bought me over the past year. This one says My Wife is Perfect. I have five others clean in the wardrobe; the significance of her choosing this one tonight doesn’t escape me.

  “Here,” I say, passing a glass of water and the Advil.

  She swallows them down, and once she’s got the heat pack and water bottle where she wants them, she bundles herself under the blanket again.

  I stand and pull my T-shirt over my head and strip out of my jeans. Switching the bedroom light off, I get in bed, rolling onto my side to face her. I find her watching me intently, deathly silent. Deathly, because a Birdie who isn’t talking is a Birdie who isn’t good.

  Tracing my finger down her cheek, I say, “I’m sorry you’re in pain, angel.”

  She remains silent for another minute or so before saying, “I’m sorry for being a bitch.”

  “I know.”

  More silence and then— “This is the first time we haven’t had sex on your birthday.”

  I don’t like the guilt I hear in her voice. “I’m not even thinking about that.”

  “Don’t lie. You are.”

  I want to touch her. Hold her. Comfort her. But I don’t want to hurt her while she’s in pain, so I keep my hands to myself. Fucking hardest thing to do in the world. I was put on this earth to look after this woman; the fact I can’t do it in the way I want right now kills me. “Sometimes I wish you could read my mind. It’d save you a lot of guilt and worry.”

  “I doubt that. I’d just think you were thinking thoughts on purpose.”

  Fuck it, I can’t not touch her a second longer. “Baby,” I say as I gently smooth my hand over her hair, “stop worrying about my needs and just focus on you. We have such a short window here with this IVF, and we need you as stress-free as possible. We’ve got years ahead of us for all the sex we’re not having now.”

  She reaches for my hand and threads her fingers through mine. “I know, but it still worries me. Sex is such a huge thing for us. What if IVF drags on for a long time? How will you cope with that if I’m never in the mood?”

  It’s only been four days since we’ve had sex, but I think Birdie has blown that up in her mind to be a huge amount of time for me. “Remember I went without you for five years?”

  “That’s different, Winter. We weren’t together; it’s not like you weren’t getting it at all.”

  “Getting any old sex is not the same as getting you.” To hell with worrying about hurting her. I pull her close, keeping my arm over her. “Yeah, I love fucking you, but what I love more is this. Talking. Being with you. Knowing what you’re thinking and going through. You can take sex away from me, but take this away and I’ll force my way back in. This is what I can’t live without, angel.”

  She bites her lip. Like she’s on the cusp of believing me but still not quite sure whether to. Then, fucking finally, she brings her lips to mine. Her hands meet my skin. And she gives me what I need: her wide-open heart.

  After drawing the kiss out, lingering with me in ways I love, she says, “I feel like I’m going fucking crazy. Between the headaches, hot flushes, night sweats, and now this muscle pain, I may just lose my mind. Add to all that my insane moods, and I’m not sure how we’re going to get through this.” She presses her body harder to mine. “Promise me you won’t ever give up on me.”

  “Fuck, Birdie, you know that’s never going to happen. Fucking never.”

  Tears fill her eyes as she nods. “I know, but honestly, my head is all over the place screwing with me so much that there are moments I believe you might. And although I tell myself it’s irrational, I can’t get rid of the thoughts. I told you I’m going crazy.”

  Max was right; she’s overwhelmed and struggling. I’m angry with myself that I didn’t see this sooner. I should have. “You’re not going crazy. But I think we need a set check-in each day where you share all the thoughts you think are crazy so I can assure
you they’re not.”

  She smiles through her tears. “I’d like that.”

  “And while I promise I won’t ever give up on you, I need a promise you’ll share all your thoughts with me, even if you think they’re fucked up.”

  Hooking her leg over mine, she says, “I promise.”

  Thank Christ.

  I need to make sure we stay tight while she’s on these damn drugs. They’re more fucked up than I ever imagined, and I’ll be damned if I allow them to ravage our relationship.

  8

  Birdie

  * * *

  “Tell me everything,” Cleo says late Friday afternoon when I call to let her know how I went at the IVF clinic this morning. I had to go in for a blood test and an ultrasound to check if my body is ready for the next stage.

  “So my levels aren’t where they need to be yet, which means I can’t start stims yet.”

  “Stims?”

  I eye myself in the bathroom mirror, noting the breakout I’m having on my face. Goddam drugs. “Sorry, the stimulation phase. They call it stims.”

  “Oh, right. Gotcha. Did Winter go with you?”

  “Yeah. And Max came too.”

  “What? Not into the ultrasound surely.” She sounds horrified at that idea, which makes me laugh.

  “God, no. He waited outside. He only came with us because we were dropping him at the airport afterwards. But it was nice having him around, you know? I felt super supported with them both there.”

  “Are you okay with the fact you’re not ready for the next stage yet?”

  “Yes and no. I mean, I’m way past ready for it mentally, but you don’t need to worry about me losing my shit over not being ready physically.” Cleo and I talk every day, so she knows I’ve felt out of control since starting the fertility drugs. Like Winter, she’s checking on me regularly now.

  “And everything’s good at work?”

  I exit the bathroom and make my way to the kitchen. Winter’s at the clubhouse taking care of something that came up, and I’ve decided to cook him something he loves for dinner, so I want to get started on that soon. “Everything has gone really well. Andrea stepped up and took over more responsibility, which was a godsend.”