As if reading my mind, he says softly, “I’m not trying to keep anything from you. Honestly, I think since the heart attack I’ve just been… out of sorts.”
Without lifting my head from his chest, I tread carefully. “Depressed?”
“…Maybe a little. I didn’t want to burden you with it. You’ve been going through your own stuff.”
I release a heavy breath. “You know, this relationship is a two-way street. It’s not right for you to always be the sane, solid one. You have to let me play that role every once in a while, even though you’re far better at it.” I playfully pinch him on the belly and can feel some of the tension escape from his body.
Sitting up, I tilt my head and gaze at his hair as I run my fingers through it. Why does gray always look so much better on men than women? It’s so unfair. I can feel his eyes on mine as I continue. “I don’t expect you to be able to tell me everything you’re going through, but when you clam up on me completely, I start imagining what the problem is. And believe me, you don’t want that.”
With a sympathetic smile, he takes my hand and kisses my fingers. “And what have you been imagining?”
Looking at the ceiling, I answer without pause. “That you’ve been having second thoughts about getting married.”
His eyes have not left my face, which gives me some assurance. “You shouldn’t be imagining such things. If there’s one thing I do know, it’s that marrying you is what I want.”
Nodding faintly, I twist my mouth. “Okay. Fair enough.” Thinking he may be more willing to open up if I’m not looking directly at him, I lay my head back on his chest. “So do you wanna talk about it? The depression? Is it really bad? Because you can tell me.”
“Nah,” he answers too quickly. “Just your standard midlife stuff. Nothing that won’t pass.”
Unfortunately, that does little to put me at ease, but I’m not going to force the issue. I realize things are different for men.
He stands and pulls me up with him, then leads me by the hand back to our room. As we crawl back into bed, I try to lift the mood. “You know, if you’re having lingering depression from the heart attack, maybe you should get a tattoo to commemorate your survival or something.”
“What do you mean?” he asks with amusement.
“My cousin, who’s about my age, had a heart attack when he was thirty-nine. The widow-maker, they call it, because people don’t usually survive the kind he had. So he got a tattoo with a heart that said, I survived the widow-maker.”
“Sounds like asking for another occurrence, if you ask me.”
“Oh. I hadn’t thought about it like that.” We lie facing each other, and I caress his upper arm. “This bicep would look pretty sexy with a tattoo, though,” I say with a grin. “That’s what we’ll do. We’ll get you a tattoo and a new sports car to help get you through the middle-age blues. Maybe I’ll get a tramp stamp to help get through mine.”
“How about you just come closer and we go to sleep?”
SEVENTEEN
As anticipated, the next morning I wake with the worst hangover I’ve had in ages. I’m old enough to know better, and am usually pretty good about not overdoing it, but this was not one of those times. The sunlight peeking through a crack in the curtains is like a dagger piercing my left eye. I’ve not yet opened my right one.
I sit up in bed and look at Kiran, who is flat on his back, mouth hanging wide open, pillow on the floor. Pressing two fingers to the pulsating region above my eye, I walk to the bathroom to brush away whatever died in my mouth last night. But whenever I remove my fingers, the throbbing becomes so unbearable I may throw up. Once I manage to get some toothpaste on my brush, I continue to press on that same spot while brushing my teeth.
Coffee. I definitely need coffee.
With my hand a permanent fixture above my left eye, I squint with my right as I make my way down the stairs.
After taking two ibuprofens, I lean over the sink while waiting on the Keurig machine to warm up, and Seth enters the kitchen.
“Are you all right, Anna?”
“Nooo,” I moan without looking at him.
Chuckling at my misery, he opens the refrigerator. “There wouldn’t happen to be any tomato juice, would there?” He pulls on one side of his face with his palm. “I need a Bloody Mary in the worst possible way.”
“Uck. How can you drink those?” I wander to the pantry. “There might be some V8 in here. Kiran drinks it.” After locating a bottle, I hand it to him. “Vodka’s in there, too. Tabasco’s in the fridge. Check the spice cabinet for whatever else. Don’t think we have any celery at the moment.”
“Ah, I don’t need celery. Thanks.” He takes a glass down from the cabinet. “Sure you don’t want one?”
“Very sure. Got what I want coming out of that machine over there.” I have a seat at the island and bury my face in my hands while waiting on my coffee.
Seth lines up all the ingredients for his drink in front of me and begins adding each into his glass. “Listen, I’m really sorry about last night. I didn’t realize Kiran didn’t know about the pot. Too stupid to even consider the incident would upset him. I never have been the sharpest tool in the shed.” He taps a finger to his temple.
I smirk at his remark and get up to put some milk and sugar in my coffee.
“Anyway, I hope I didn’t cause too much grief.”
“It was my own fault for not mentioning it to him. I think we’re okay, though.”
After pouring a splash of vodka in his juice, he stirs his concoction. “Good. I really can’t thank the two of you enough for letting me stay here. Saved me the trouble of renting an apartment for a couple of months, or staying in a hotel.”
“You’re family.” I shrug and smile. “Crazy family—but family.”
“Touché.” He raises his glass and takes a drink. “I’m so thrilled to be Kiran’s best man. Kind of surprised he asked me, if you want to know the truth.”
“Why? I told you how much he thinks of you.”
“I don’t know. He did tell you I asked if Gretchen could stay last night, didn’t he?”
“Yeah.” I was actually surprised that he asked, but maybe Kiran said something to him about the night I caught him with Marie.
“There was no way she could drive home, and I was too far gone to take her, but I want you to know, she didn’t stay in my room.”
I hold up my hand. “Seth, you’re a grown man. I don’t need to know the details.” Or see them, for that matter.
“There are no details. Gretchen is too classy for that.” He turns to put the juice in the refrigerator.
“Well, she seems to be pretty taken with you.”
“What?” He chuckles with… is that shyness I detect? “No she isn’t.”
I nod slowly. “Yes… she is. She even told me so.”
His face lights up with interest. “She did? What did she say?”
“Not much. I just asked her what she thought of you, and she said that she likes you. A lot. And she made a point to emphasize a lot.”
“She said that?” His voice gets a bit higher as he sets his glass on the counter in front of him. “A lot?”
As I study him, a smile creeps onto my face. “Aww, look at you, getting all bashful and awkward. You really like her!”
“Bah! Doesn’t matter. She’s out of my league.”
Crossing my arms, I press my lips together. “Now, why would you say that? You’re a great guy. You’re handsome and charming, funny… Okay, maybe a little…” I trail off, wishing I hadn’t added the last part.
“Impulsive? Immature?” he continues.
I scrunch my face and offer an apologetic smile. “Boyish!” I point a finger at him.
He laughs before taking another sip of his Bloody Mary. “Nice save.”
“Anyway, I think you might have a real chance with her. Who knows? Might find you even like a monogamous relationship with someone close to your age,” I jab.
“Huh!”
he scoffs, a lingering grimace on his face. “Don’t know. Been there, done that.”
I really need to shut my mouth. The way Seth manages his relationships, or lack thereof, is not my business. But I do like him, and think if he would just take a moment to breathe and relax, instead of spending all his time chasing the party, he’d be great for someone like Gretchen.
There’s a lull in our conversation, and I have the burning desire to talk to him about Kiran—ask him if he’s shared anything of concern—but don’t know if I’m crossing a line. Thankfully, I decide against it, because a few moments later Kiran joins us and sits on the stool beside me, leaning his forehead into his palms. “Good morning,” he says quietly. From the pained expression on his face, he feels as lousy as Seth and me.
Seth rounds the island and playfully tousles Kiran’s hair. “How’s my baby cousin this morning?”
Kiran swipes his hand away. “Agh… This has got to be what hell is like.”
“I’ll fix you a Bloody Mary?” Seth offers.
“Sounds awful,” Kiran mutters. “But thank you.”
“Coffee, sweetie?”
He lays his face on the cool countertop and crosses his arms over his head. “Please.”
“I think I better head upstairs and check on Gretchen,” Seth says. “See if she’s faring any better than the rest of us.”
After Seth leaves, I slide a cup of black coffee across the counter to Kiran. “Can I get you some ibuprofen or aspirin or anything?”
“Yes,” he moans without lifting his head. “Anything.”
“How many?”
He raises three fingers.
I set the ibuprofens next to his cup, which he has yet to drink from, and sit beside him to lightly rub his back.
“Thank you.” Finally raising his head from the countertop, he takes the pills with his coffee. “I’m too old for this, Anna.”
“I hear ya, buddy. I think there’s a sprite currently taking a pick to my eyeball, and he’s not showing any signs of letting up.”
“Which one?”
I place a finger to my left eye, and he leans over to kiss it.
“Hey,” I begin in a hushed voice. “So, I guess Seth has a thing for Gretchen.”
Kiran looks at me sideways before taking another sip from his cup. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Seth has a thing for numerous women.”
“No, but I think he may actually like her. Like, for more than just sex, but doesn’t think he’s worthy. Maybe you could give him a little pep talk.”
He rubs his face. “I’m not sure playing matchmaker for him is such a good idea. He’s a big boy, and it could end badly.”
“But don’t you think Gretchen seems nice?”
“She does seem nice, but Seth is well… Seth.” Taking his cup, he gets down from his barstool and kisses the top of my head. “I’m going to shower.”
Seth may be Seth, but that doesn’t mean he can’t use a little help.
EIGHTEEN
The next evening, I’ve just hung up the phone when Kiran comes home from work.
“Who was that?” he asks.
Pulling on my ear, I hesitate to answer. “Gretchen…”
He sighs heavily and shakes his head.
“What?” I ask innocently, patting the spot beside me on the couch for him to join me. “I just thought it would be nice if she and I had lunch. I like her.”
Giving me a half smile, he says, “You don’t think you have enough going on without this added complication?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. We’re just having a friendly lunch next week.”
He leans an elbow on the back of the couch, then touches one of the buttons on my blouse. “If you say so, but just know that my mother tried the same thing years ago, and as you can see, nothing came of it.”
This is different. One, Seth is older now. And two, I could tell by his reaction yesterday that he holds Gretchen in high esteem. “We’re just having lunch. No biggie.”
“Uh huh… So, are you all ready to get this thing done tomorrow?” He’s referring to my ablation that’s scheduled in the morning.
“Way past ready.” Leaning my head on his shoulder, I prop my feet on the coffee table. “I just want my life back.”
“Well, my schedule’s all clear for tomorrow so I can be at your beck and call.”
“Thank you, but hopefully I won’t be in bad enough shape to need you at my beck and call.” I smush his cheeks in my hand before giving him a kiss. “But I’ll enjoy having you on standby so I can look at this gorgeous face.”
He squeezes my knee. “Mother wants to know if you’d like her to be at the hospital during the procedure.”
Hmm, I wasn’t really expecting that. “That’s not necessary. It’s just a little outpatient thing. Nothing to make a big deal out of.” Although secretly, I am kind of anxious about it. Occasionally, I’ve had to push thoughts of perforated bowels and uteri (is that a word?) out of my head.
“Let me rephrase then. She would like to be there.”
Bemused, I smile. “Why?”
“If your parents still lived here, would they be there?”
Thinking about it for a moment, I tilt my head from side to side. “Most likely…” Then I nod. “Yeah, they would be there. They’re worrywarts that way.”
“There you have it. You’re a daughter to her, and she’d like to be there.”
Not only does her concern touch my heart, but it also makes me realize how much I miss having my parents here since they retired and moved to San Diego, even though I don’t allow myself to think about it too much. My nose and eyes immediately begin to burn. “Ah, shit! Here it comes.” I wave a hand in front of my face like a beauty queen, and the tears spill out.
Kiran can’t contain his amusement and laughs at me. “What are we going to do with you? You are a mess!”
“Right?!”
***
The following morning, I’m lying on my side in a pre-op bed, waiting to go in for my procedure, and Kiran sits beside me, holding my hand. Wearing hospital gown and slippers, with my IV fluids already administered, it seems like I’m pretty much good to go.
“Well, this is it. About to get the lining of my hoo-ha burned out. Yay!” I add with fake enthusiasm.
Kiran touches his forehead and makes a face. “You and your colorful choice of words.”
“You’re right. That’s not exactly an accurate statement. My uterus isn’t really my hoo-ha.”
He pushes my hair away from my face. “Are you nervous?”
They must have put something in my IV to sedate me, because I’m suddenly very relaxed. “I’m a little scared about the epidural. Carly’s delivery was a piece of cake, but when I had Hayden, it took the anesthesiologist seven tries to get the needle in my back.”
For a brief moment, Kiran wears the strangest expression. Almost sad, but… not. Wistful? I can’t pinpoint it. The impression is fleeting, then he says firmly, “I can assure you, I’ll make them get another anesthesiologist before that happens.”
I’m not sure if I’m conscious for the epidural or not, because his statement is the last thing I remember before waking to learn that all went well. My uterus and bowel are perforation-free.
***
Upon arriving home, I’m a bit crampy, but otherwise feeling pretty decent. True to his nature, Kiran is attentive and sweet, frequently asking if there’s anything I need. He brings me chai tea, makes sure that my laptop, Kindle, and TV remote are all within reach, and provides me with a heating pad for any belly discomfort.
I gaze at him as he keeps me company watching TV in our bed, and it’s times like these I marvel at how completely blessed I am that he came into my life. It makes me want to cry. Although, these days it seems everything makes me want to cry, including the fact that I can’t seem to shake this feeling that he’s sad, and I’m sensing it especially strong today. It’s nothing that he does or says in particular, but it’s still there.
I wonder if paranoia is also a symptom of perimenopause.
He chuckles about something on The Big Bang Theory and then notices me staring at him. “What is it, beautiful?”
I shrug and smile. “Nothing. I’m just a lucky girl, is all. However, I’m getting a little depressed at the realization we won’t be having sex for a month.”
“I’m not thrilled about it, either.” He grins. “You’re going to be in for it when that month is up, though.”
After taking calls from my parents and the kids and having a short nap, Geena shows up late in the afternoon, offering to make dinner for me, Kiran, and Seth. I am up and around with only some minor discomfort—nothing a little Advil can’t handle—but don’t want to deal with the three of them feeling like they have to hover.
“Why don’t the two of you go out and have a nice dinner?” I suggest to Kiran and Seth. “And Geena and I can stay in and order something.” It’s time to admit I’m in need of a little motherly companionship, and Kiran has been giving off the vibe he could use some male bonding with his cousin. What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall, though.
Kiran runs a hand through his hair. “Are you sure?”
“Yep.” I wrap my arms around one of Geena’s. “We’ll have some girl time and you go have some boy time.”
Seth quietly looks back and forth between us, waiting on his decision.
“Looks like we’re getting the boot, my friend,” Kiran says.
“All right then!” Seth pats him on the back as they head for the door.
Once the guys are gone, Geena says, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to cook you something instead?”
“As much as I love your cooking, I want you to relax,” I say, leading her to the kitchen.
“I don’t mind!”
“I know you don’t. What do you want to drink?”
She leans on the counter. “Whatever wine you have on hand will do.”
After locating a bottle, I pour her a glass and get some iced water for myself. Then I pull up the usual pizza place online using my phone.
Menopause to Matrimony (Fortytude Series Book 2) Page 11