Pink Fucking Moscato

by Anna Rezes

  “At first, they said my issue would resolve itself, but it didn’t. I had so many follow-up appointments over the next few months, and every doctor on staff probed me.” I paused when I realized how that sounded, surprising myself with a laugh. “Not like that.”

  Oliver kissed the side of my head. “You like a good probing, do you?”

  I shoved him as he leaned in closer.

  “The doctors tried a few different treatments, but when nothing seemed to work, they decided surgery was my only option. They advised that I have a fertility specialist do the operation to give me a better chance at having kids in the future.”

  I peeked at Oliver and saw his grimace. I took another swing of the Pink Moscato and continued on, “It took weeks to get into the specialist, and another month for the surgery. But it was either wait for the specialist or go in for emergency surgery and possibly destroy my chance to ever become pregnant. So, I waited.

  “The pain was intense. I couldn’t eat or sleep, and the pain medications came with awful side effects. I had to take medical leave from my job as it infected every part of my life.

  “My insecurities grew because chronic pain makes you crazy. I was afraid my husband would stop loving me. I worried that I was a burden. I worried about not being able to give him children. I worried because we hadn’t been intimate in months, and I hated the loss of control—the loss of intimacy. I felt like my body had turned into a weapon against me.”

  Oliver wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me toward him until my head was against his chest. We sat in silence for a moment, but eventually, I went on, saying, “The surgery went well. There were a few tough days, but with the help of Evan and my mom, I made it through, and my ovaries were in good shape. And in the words of my doctor, I have a beautiful uterus.”

  “Damn straight,” Oliver chimed.

  I laughed, amazed that I was comfortable enough to talk to Oliver about this. He hadn’t pushed me away as I’d thought. I also wasn’t planning to tell him everything, but he had a way of gently encouraging me.

  “I made Evan get checked to make sure everything was healthy on his end while I began tracking everything, my cycles, my temperatures, everything I ate. I did ovulation predictor kits, and I read books on conceiving. Looking back, the pressure I put on us was insane. We only had scheduled sex, and we were both way too stressed. We were miserable. And we weren’t conceiving. We weren’t connecting. We were barely surviving. Everything felt hectic, but I didn’t know how to stop because I could hear that clock ticking inside my head. I was getting older, and nothing was going as planned.

  “Months of not conceiving rolled by and one day Jodi stopped by with the news she was expecting. She was two months along. I cried happy tears that she was going to have another baby. I hugged her and celebrated, and then I remembered myself, and the tears turned sad, but I kept the smile in place and shoved back my grief. I was happy first. I didn’t want my pain foreshadowing the happy moment, but she knew I was hurting. It’s the reason it took her so long to tell me. She was afraid her happy news would hurt me.”

  “I’m sure it did,” Oliver added.

  “I was in pain, but she didn’t hurt me,” I said, defending Jodi. I remembered it so vividly. After she left, I walked back into our quiet house and my smile melted. The pain was soul deep. I wandered around the house, trying to remember my purpose. I didn’t want to feel ungrateful, but that day the house felt too quiet. Our tidy house bothered me. I wanted a mess. I wanted loud giggling kids running through the house, jumping on the furniture. I wanted crayon marks on the walls. I had prayed on my knees for that kind of chaos. I knew I needed to let myself feel whatever I felt even if the thoughts weren’t pleasant. I needed to purge them from my body, so they didn’t turn septic and eat me from the inside.

  I took a deep breath, saying, “I didn’t know what to do with myself after she left. Evan found me wandering around the kitchen. He pulled me into him and held me while I cried, and in between sobs, I explained that I was happy for Jodi.”

  I blinked back tears as they came. “He used to love me, and I loved that he cared enough to hold me and that he knew me well enough to know how badly I was hurting and how much I didn’t want to feel the things I felt.”

  I sighed, picking off more of the wine label as I said, “I went through months of fertility medications and procedures while Evan and I tried to get pregnant on our own.” I took a drink. “After a year of failing to conceive, we let the professionals take over. At our first treatment, Evan was sitting in his chair playing a game on his phone while I sat on the table with a thin paper drape covering my naked lower half. The syringe of his viable sperm sat on the counter, waiting for insertion. It all felt so clinical, and I was nervous. And at this opportune time, Evan casually said, ‘I think we’re doing this prematurely.’”

  Oliver sucked air through his clenched teeth. He seemed to understand.

  I took another drink. “I was so unprepared for his comment that it took me a moment to digest his statement. The hormones made me crazy, so I couldn’t always trust my emotions, but at that moment, I felt completely alone. I didn’t want to stress him out by taking him along with me to all thirty doctor’s appointments I’d had in the past year. But he knew about them.

  “I thought we were in it together. He thought we were jumping the gun. After all, he hadn’t gotten prodded four times that week. He hadn’t been taking the medication that gave him hot flashes and drastic mood swings. He hadn’t felt every symptom for the last two years and wondered Could that be a baby, only to re-live the loss over and over again. He didn’t have to remind himself daily that he would survive this.

  “So, there I sat with my paper drape, suddenly feeling isolated and claustrophobic. It frustrated me that the doctor was taking so long. I felt my hope dying with every second. We had already waited in that room for twenty minutes. I just wanted to get pregnant already, and no one seemed to understand my desperation. My husband, who sat right next to me, complaining that he was hungry, didn’t feel the walls closing in.

  “No one else seemed to notice that tiny window of time closing for the next thirty days. But I felt it, and I knew what it meant. More waiting, more doctor’s appointments, more probing, more pep talks in the mirror. I had been strong and brave, and suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.”

  I took another drink to avoid the conversation because I was depressing myself. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  “We don’t have to,” he reassured.

  I took a few long drinks and leaned into him again, asking, “Are you close with your family?”

  “Yeah, we’re pretty close, I guess. My parents got divorced when I was twelve, but they still get along. They’re both remarried, but at family gatherings, my mom and dad and their significant others all show up. I know it rarely works out that way for divorced couples, but we’re lucky, I guess. What about you? Are you close to your parents?”

  “Yeah. My mom is my best friend, aside from Jodi. My dad and I don’t talk the way my mother and I do, but we still have a deep connection. It scares me that something will happen to them. They’re in their late sixties, now.”

  “Did they want more children?”

  “My parents got married when they were thirty-six. My mom was thirty-eight when she had me, and it was a risky pregnancy. She almost died during delivery, and right after I was born, they whisked her into emergency surgery. The hysterectomy saved her life, and she said it didn’t matter that she couldn’t get pregnant again because she had me.”

  “How was she through all of your treatments?” he asked.

  “She was supportive, but nobody really knew what to say or how to comfort me. And each month I didn’t get pregnant, I felt like I was letting my parents down too. They won’t be around forever.”

  For a moment, I was pulled into the past. Each month started with so much hope. I would take one negative pregnancy test after the other. I would convince myself
I just took the test too soon, but the next day it was still negative, so I waited two more days because the negative result put a pretty big dent in my denial meter. Then I would lose hope one symptom at a time. My breasts didn’t hurt, my cramps got worse, I’d start spotting. But I would make excuses, thinking maybe it was implantation bleeding or cramping. I would think about taking another pregnancy test, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t, because I knew when I took that test it would rip at my heart to see another negative. And then my period would start, and I would have no more hope.

  Fuck hope.

  I fucking hated how much I loved feeling hope because when it was gone, I couldn’t breathe. But hope was an addiction, and I didn’t know how to give it up.

  After draining half my bottle, I said, “One day Jodi came to me. She sat me down and told me to quit my job. I was so mad at her because I loved working with kids. But then I thought of all the days I hid in the bathroom to cry or to pull my shit together. ‘You’re okay,’ was my mantra. I felt like if I said it enough, then eventually, I would feel okay. I realized being around kids was probably not the best for me at the time because it was a constant reminder of the one thing I couldn’t have.”

  Oliver pulled back. “I like Jodi. It takes a best friend to have a conversation like that. If only Travis were more like Jodi.”

  I nodded. “I can’t even imagine if Jodi and Evan were messing around behind my back. I’m so sorry, Oliver.”

  It was his turn to sigh. “I don’t know what to do without either of them, Addie or Travis.”

  “Let’s both move far away,” I suggested.

  “I’m still so angry,” he said, dragging a hand down his jaw.

  “I know that feeling.”

  “Do you know how long Evan was cheating on you before you found out?”

  “Seven months.”

  “How do you know? Did he tell you? Addison refused to tell me, and it’s been driving me crazy.”

  “Evan didn’t have to tell me. I knew. It started small. I think they were only friends at first, but I caught him talking to her on the phone late one night. I should’ve been asleep, but Bella was a puppy, so I was getting up every few hours to let her out. Evan was outside, sitting on the patio in the dark. I cracked the door and listened for a moment, long enough to know they were talking about me. He wasn’t bashing me or telling her he would leave me. He was simply confiding in another woman, kind of like I’m doing with you right now. In a way, it felt worse than if it was just sex.

  “Maybe he tried not to fall in love with her,” I said with a shrug. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t want him telling her intimate details about me. I would have confronted him, but I couldn’t find the strength to face him. I felt worthless. So, I clung to Bella because she wouldn’t talk behind my back or share worried whispers with the other people who cared about me. Bella gave me a purpose and probably saved my life.”

  “Fuck,” I wiped at my eyes. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this. My mom doesn’t even know this.”

  He kissed my forehead. “What about Jodi?”

  “I love Jodi and her family, but she’s always surrounded by kids, her own and the kids from the in-home daycare she runs. It’s difficult to have a real conversation. She’s still my best friend, but our lives are so different right now. And sometimes it hurts to be around her and her family.

  “I went to her house one day when her extended family was visiting. They all had spouses and kids. I was the odd man out, but they welcomed me with open arms, feeding me, talking to me, including me, and even putting their brand-new baby in my arms. I watched the kids run around while the adults spoke in such a familial way.

  “Jodi’s mom started laughing with her grandkids, and it was the most joyful sound and . . .” I swallowed. “That joyful sound tore at that broken part of me. I wanted it. I wanted to give that kind of joy to my mother. I wanted all of it, and I felt like an imposter because it was not my life. Those happy people were not my in-laws. The baby I held in my arms was not my own. I walked a tightrope between smiles and tears that day. It all felt so good to pretend, but the reality of it left me feeling raw. All the things I wanted surrounded me, and yet I felt like an island lost at sea to wither alone.” I wiped my tears.

  Oliver pulled the bottle from my hand and leaned across me to set it on the nightstand. He wrapped me in his arms, hugging my entire body against his as if he was trying to absorb me into his own.

  Oliver

  She reclined into me with her head on my chest and her arms around me. Her tears dotted my shirt. I didn’t understand how I felt so attached to her.

  I wanted to take away her pain. I also want to kick Evan’s ass. No wonder she wasn’t in the best headspace. It hurt me to hear her story. It hurt to know how discarded she felt. I wanted to show her what it meant to be loved.

  Did I love her? It was way too soon for such strong emotions, but I felt a connection with her—a strong connection. It made little sense, but I couldn’t separate myself from what she made me feel.

  She tilted her head up toward me, her vulnerability showing in her expression. She’d opened the floodgates, and now she was second-guessing herself, wondering what I was thinking. I bent down to meet her full rosy lips with mine.

  We shifted, readjusting, and then she was on top of me, straddling me. She brought her face level with mine. My palms ran up the outside of her smooth thighs, sliding beneath the fabric of her dress and coming to a rest at her hips.

  She watched me, her face inches from my own.

  She whispered, “I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

  I nodded my agreement.

  She leaned in to kiss me, but I stopped her, saying, “What are we doing, Willa? This is all happening too fast. It’s a bad idea.”

  “You’re right,” she agreed in a small voice.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” I said, cupping her cheek.

  She moved to sit next to me, facing me with her legs crossed.

  “We need a distraction,” she said. “Let’s order some food.”

  I thought for a moment, offering, “Or, we could go to the beach?”

  “What beach?”

  “Lake Michigan is only an hour away. We can get dinner and sit on the beach.”

  “Yes!” She sprung up from the bed, grabbing her purse and slipping into her shoes before pausing and spinning to me. “Oliver, I can’t drive. I drank almost that whole bottle.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll drive. I barely had any.”

  She smiled, bright and perfect, and I said, “I’m not really dressed to go out.”

  She took me in and said, “You look super casual, and I dig it.”

  “Addison would make me change, and if I had nothing to change into, she’d go buy me an outfit before we went out.”

  “Are you asking me to buy you an outfit?” she asked with a laugh. “Oh, fun! Please tell me you want me to pick out an outfit for you!”

  “Your excitement is making me leery. I was more saying that as a thank you for accepting me the way I am.”

  “I changed my mind. I don’t accept you. You look like a scrub, and I don’t want no scrubs.”

  “Calm down TLC. If you buy something for me now, we won’t get to the beach until dark, and no one will see what I’m wearing, anyway.”

  She huffed, “Fine. I’ll just put up with you the way you are.”

  I grabbed my things, and we headed out the door.

  “That wine hit me a lot harder than last night,” she said as we boarded the elevator.

  “What have you had today besides your ice cream?”

  She thought for a moment. “I had coffee this morning.”

  “I think you solved the mystery.”

  “I am really hungry,” she said.

  “Do you want to stop on the way and pick something up?”

  “I want a cheeseburger!” she half-shouted, as we exited the elevator.

  I laughed, partly at her, but mostly at the
expressions of the people waiting in the lobby. “We’ll stop on the way then.”

  “Fast food?” she asked.

  “Is that okay?”

  She spun toward me, walking backward through the lobby, covering her mouth as she gasped. “What would Addison think if she could see you now?”

  I shrugged. “Not my problem.” I reached out and shifted her, so she didn’t run into the door frame.

  She giggled and spun, lacing her fingers through mine as if she had done it a thousand times before. I guided her to my truck, and the doors unlocked as we approached. I opened her door for her and waited until she climbed into the cab.

  Once I came around, she was already buckled in and had the glove compartment open.

  I got in, observing her as she flipped through my things. “What are you doing?”

  She peeked at me, saying, “Making sure we aren’t stealing someone else’s car.”

  “What?”

  “This is a really fancy truck. I’m gonna be honest. I didn’t know they made trucks this fancy.”

  “I got a deal on it, but vehicles are pretty nice these days. You would know that if you would upgrade.”

  “Don’t turn into a car commercial. I’ll look for one, eventually.”

  She shut the glove compartment as I backed out of the spot, but as I drove out of the parking lot, she opened the center console. She pulled out my phone, saying, “Is it dead or off?”

  “Dead. Addison killed it with all her calls and messages.”

  She put it back, closed the console, and leaned against it, asking, “So where are we stopping?”

  “There is a row of fast-food places up here, so you can have your pick.” She looked contemplative, and while she was thinking, I asked, “Would you want to go to a winery tomorrow? It’s not far from here.”