I feel the hardness of his morning erection against my thigh and reflexively rub against it. “Sure there’s no way I can persuade you to tell me?”
Tap, tap, tap.
“Hey, Gabs, it’s me, can I come in?” Morgan calls out from the other side of my bedroom door.
“Pretend like you’re asleep!” I whisper furiously to Dorian. He smiles and buries his face into the pillow. After I ensure his naked body is completely covered and slip on my robe, I open my bedroom door to greet my best friend and roommate. “Hey Morg, what’s up?”
Morgan peers into my room and spies Dorian lying in my bed, pretending to be asleep. “Oh shit, Gabs, my bad. I didn’t know he was here,” she whispers. “Just really quick…I am in need of some ‘lady products,’ if you know what I mean. I just ran out. Got any to spare?”
“Sure.” I wave let her in, waving her towards my bathroom. Once we enter, I close the door and search for my stash of tampons under the sink. “Here. You can have them all,” I say handing her an unopened box.
“Are you sure?” she asks with a bewildered look. “If I’m on mine, then you should be on yours too.” She nods her head towards the door, towards the beautiful naked man sleeping in my bed before her face turns into a combination of disgust and amusement. “Ew! You dirty whore!” she shrieks playfully.
I gasp at Morgan’s heinous insinuation. “Morgan! Keep your voice down!” I whisper furiously. “And no, I’m not on my period!” Shit! I know Dorian can hear every word and I am utterly mortified.
“What? How is that possible? We’ve been synced up since high school, Gabs. Like clockwork.” Morgan’s eyes suddenly grow wide with sheer horror, her jaw nearly hitting the tiled floor. “Gabs, when was your last period?”
“What? I don’t know.” I rack my brain, trying to recollect the date, chewing my lip until it hurts. “Um, a couple months, I guess.” Yeah, that’s right. Dorian was trying desperately to convince me that he didn’t care, that the blood didn’t bother him. As extremely difficult and physically painful it was to deny him, I refused, opting to engage in…other activities to keep us both satisfied.
“Oh my God, Gabs! You’re pregnant!” she exclaims. I instantly shush her but her shocked expression and flailing arms say it all.
“No, I am not, Morgan.” Right? Shit. Has it really been that long since my last period?
“Holy fuck, Gabs, I think you are! Come on, I think I have an emergency pregnancy test in my room.” She exits in a flourish to find said test and I dash to the bed where Dorian is already sitting up, wearing only a solemn expression.
“Did you hear what she just said?” I whisper almost embarrassed at the thought.
Dorian nods. “You aren’t though, little girl. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m glad. I didn’t really think I was anyway,” I mutter, a hint of sadness in my voice.
I’m definitely relieved yet part of me grieves for the babies that will never grow in my womb. The realization that I will never be a mother, will never share life with another being, pummels me. I never truly thought about having children until I found someone I wanted to spend my life with. And accepting that I will never give Dorian sparkling blue-eyed, raven-haired babies knocks the wind right out of me. Will my love be enough to placate him? Knowing that I can never give him an heir?
Dorian leans forward and leaves a single chaste kiss on my forehead as I try to fight a wave of fresh tears. Before he can invoke any further emotion, I flash him a manufactured smile and quickly exit the bedroom, hoping to mollify Morgan with a negative pregnancy test and put all talk of motherhood and babies to rest.
By Sunday, I am over the pregnancy scare but deem it necessary to discuss my dilemma with Donna, the only mother I have ever known. She has prepared a roasted chicken with spiced sweet potatoes and sautéed green beans for our weekly family dinner and I have opted to watch her cook in hopes that some of her culinary skills will rub off on me. No use in making myself totally un-wifely.
I take a sip of the crisp white wine that Chris has poured for us before escaping to the living room to watch football. This is as good a time as any to broach the sensitive subject. “Hey Mom, can I ask you something?”
“Sure honey,” Donna replies, basting the golden brown bird.
“Is it normal for me to not have a period? I mean, without being pregnant?”
Donna looks up to meet my awkward gaze. This is the first time I’ve ever alluded to being sexually active, though I’m sure she knows that I am no angel. “I’m so sorry, Gabi. It’s starting. The process. The curse is changing you. To ensure you don’t procreate.”