Bren

 

I sat in the doctor’s office, swinging my legs back and forth as I listened to the ticking of the clock on the wall behind me. In truth, the clock—along with my healthy sense of panic—was the only thing keeping me awake. I was still jet-lagged from the plane ride home yesterday, and though I’d briefly considered canceling the appointment, I knew it had nothing to do with my exhaustion.

No, it had to do with fear. A dark shadow of terror had taken root deep within me, coloring every one of my thoughts, and ever since we’d touched back down in the city, it had grown in strength, threatening to choke me from the inside out. At my age, the window for having children was already getting smaller. I knew that.

But to be having irregular periods at thirty?

It couldn’t be a good sign.

Right?

I glanced again at the steel door handle, willing it to turn and allow the doctor inside. The nurse had already taken my temperature and weight along with my blood pressure and the other tests they did whenever I went into the office. With some luck, she wouldn’t mention to anyone else who exactly the patient in exam room B was, but if she did…

Well, I’d worry about that later.

For now, I just had to put all my energy into willing that door open.

All this stress and worry could be for nothing, after all. I simply couldn’t know for sure until the doctor appeared.

Which, after a few more menacing ticks of the clock, she did.

After glancing down at the tablet in her hand, she grinned at me and clicked the door closed. Carefully she made her way to the rolling stool in front of the little granite countertop in the room and then spun around to face me.

Slapping her hands against her knees, she said, “Well, Miss Matthews, I’ve taken a look at your chart and I understand you’re having a few concerns about your fertility, is that right?”

I gave her a shaky nod. “It’s just that I got my period really late last month and then it only lasted a little while before disappearing again.”

She pursed her lips, looking like she was concentrating deeply on every word I said, then tilted her head to the side, letting her brown ponytail spill onto the counter behind her.

“Has this over happened before?”

I nodded. “Once or twice.”

“May I be frank with you, Miss Matthews?”

“Bren,” I corrected her. “And yes, absolutely.”

My stomach tightened and I linked my fingers together in my lap.

“You are right to be concerned about your fertility. At age thirty, sporadic or irregular periods tend not to be a good sign. But there’s no reason to be scared, okay?”

No reason to be scared? I felt like she was the big bad wolf, blowing down my entire house of twigs and leaving nothing but a desolate patch of dirt in her wake. A whole plot of nothingness where not even a weed would grow. Mason’s face, crumpled and disappointed, flashed through my mind, but I forced myself to nod and listen to what she had to say next.

“Now, it says on your chart that you’re not looking to conceive anytime soon, but we can still run some tests and see what’s going on. From there, we’ll know what our options are.”

“And if I’m—” I started, then choked on the words and tried again. “If I can’t have a baby naturally, what are the options?”

The doctor hugged her tablet to her chest, crossing her arms over the top of it. “Well, if there’s an issue, which there may not be, you might opt for an egg retrieval.”

“What would that do?”

“Essentially, we would freeze your eggs for surrogacy or in vitro fertilization, depending on the particular issue with conception.” The doctor nodded knowingly. “Also, now that you are thirty, it might be time to take conceiving a little more seriously. By thirty-six, your eggs could become geriatric, which would mean the option of freezing them would be off the table and, of course, any pregnancy you might have would be higher risk. It is six years away, but it’s something to think about if you’re serious about having children.”

I nodded, trying to mask the heart-stopping panic oozing through my body like a disease. Taking a deep breath, I tried to speak, but the doctor held up a palm to stay me.

“Look, Bren. I know this is a lot. Just remember that it could have just been a one-off. Sometimes stress or diet or even environment can have a lot to do with our cycles. I wouldn’t get too concerned about any of it just yet.”

“You’re sure?” I asked.

“Positive. Now, just to be on the safe side, I’m going to send in a nurse to get some samples for a fertility test, and I’ll call you within a week or so to let you know the results. Good news or bad, you’ll be hearing from me, so don’t worry when you see me on your call list.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” My sigh of relief stuck in my throat and I leaned back again, staring at the ceiling as she slipped from the room and a nurse re-entered.

Closing my eyes, I waited as she explained the test to me. They already had a urine and blood sample, so the only thing they didn’t have from me at this point was a piece of my soul. Then again, depending on the news the doctor gave me next week, they might take a bit of that as well.

When the nurse left, I got dressed quickly, then slipped from the room and ensured my copay was handled before sliding out of the practice and into the wide, silent atrium.

This, I knew, would be the most daunting part of my trip—even more so than the doctor’s visit. Because, idiot that I was, I’d failed to notice that the doctor I’d scheduled my appointment with housed their offices just down the hall from Bentley Women’s Medicine.

Of course, Mason would have already been in the office for hours by now, but that didn’t make it any less nerve-wracking to walk past his etched glass double doors. And when the bell on the door chimed behind me after I’d walked by, my heart leapt into my throat.

I debated whether to turn around and see my fate, but the decision was snatched from me when I heard a familiar, deep rumble of a voice behind me.

“Bren, what are you doing here?” Mason asked and I turned around, heat already surging to my cheeks.

“Nothing.” I shook my head. “Nothing. I’m just heading out, actually. I didn’t mean to interrupt your day.”

“I was just about to go for lunch, actually. You want to join me?”

“Miss Matthews!” An airy female voice cut between us and I turned to find the nurse striding toward me with my jacket in her hand. “You left your coat,” she said, then gave a polite nod to Mason.

“Dr. Bentley,” she said.

“Hey, Marlene,” he said back, and then she turned on her heel and strode back to her office.

Mason watched her for a long moment, then turned to face me, his gaze searching mine.

“What was that?” he asked.

“I had a doctor’s appointment, that’s all.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” he asked. It didn’t take a genius to hear the hurt in his voice, like I’d betrayed him with some sort of sordid doctor switching affair, but I ignored it, squaring my shoulders as I took a deep breath.

“Look, I don’t want to talk about this.”

“There’s not much of anything you do want to talk about,” he shot back.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means if something is wrong, I have the right to know. When two people care about each other and are trying to form a relationship, they share things.”

I shook my head. “All I do is disappoint you, Mason. There isn’t a baby tying us together anymore. Maybe it’s better if we just take a break.” I hoped he couldn’t hear the pain in my voice. All I wanted to do was run. Because I could already feel my heart starting to crack. And when it shattered, I might not ever make my way back from the agony. Better to glue it back together myself, make a clean break and pray it stayed knit together.

“You don’t mean that. After the island and—”

“What are you going to do? Charter a trip every time we’re reminded of our real life circumstances? We’d never leave the place,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go.”

He tried to grab for my arm, but I pulled away and strode toward the revolving doors, not bothering to turn when he called after me. I’d made myself clear and—most important of all—I knew if I turned and saw his face, I would never be able to leave again.

But leaving was the right thing to do. Mason wanted children. I’d known it since the first moment I’d told him I might be pregnant, and even more so when we’d both been so let down when I wasn’t.

And if I couldn’t have them? Then what kind of monster would I be for leading him on and denying him the one thing he wanted most of all?

Biting back another swell of panic, I got in my car and drove to the one place I knew I’d be able to think through my options. The zoo was closed today as part of some conservationist holiday, but I knew that I’d be able to get in regardless.

When I got there, the parking lot was empty save for one bright orange Fiat. Mandy’s car.

Jangling my keys as I walked, I let myself in and headed to my friend’s office. It was empty.

Odd.

When she saw my car, there was no doubt she’d call, but for now I wanted to be alone anyway. Holding my breath, I made my way to the cheetah enclosure and stepped inside Cocoa and Nibs’s shelter. Except rather than a great lumbering dog and its friendly cheetah companion, I found Mandy with a cheetah on her lap as she stroked him.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

The cheetah didn’t bother looking up at me, but Mandy pursed her lips, never stopping her soft strokes on the animal’s head.

“Nibs died this morning,” she murmured, her throat clogged with unshed tears.

I blinked, the breath leaving me in a whoosh. “What? No, he was in perfect health.”

Mandy shook her head. “It was sudden. Looks like he had leukemia and we didn’t see it.”

My heart froze. “Poor Cocoa.”

Mandy nodded. “We’re going to try and bring in a new dog, but…”

She didn’t have to say the rest. We all knew what usually became of the cheetahs who lived without their dogs and the dogs who lived without their cheetahs. The depression could set in, making it harder for them to eat or function. And eventually? It was that depression that could kill them.

I’d never felt more connected to one of the animals in the zoo in all my life. I had barely dodged this bullet with Mason myself and now, seeing this animal in so much pain, it was a much needed reminder that love fucking hurt.

Who needed that in their life?

Carefully I took a step toward Cocoa, and when she didn’t move, I began to stroke her in time with Mandy.

“What brings you here on a holiday?” she asked. “I haven’t told anyone about Nibs yet.”

“No, I just came to visit them. I had a couple of things I wanted to think over and I thought this might be a nice place to do it.”

Mandy nodded. “So the doctor’s visit didn’t go well?”

I sighed. “Not exactly.”

“But they can’t tell you anything until they run the tests. So now you wait and wonder, right?”

I nodded. “How’d you know?”

She offered me a small, sad smile. “Because I’ve been there.”

“You…?” I asked and she nodded.

“A year after I got married, we decided we wanted to start a family, but…” She shrugged. “Well, things didn’t happen like we thought they would. It took us seven years and several miscarriages to conceive. It was awful at the time, obviously. I felt like I’d let my husband down.”

 “I’m so sorry, Mandy. I can’t believe you never told me,” I said.

She shrugged. “It was a hard string of years, but it all worked out for us in the end.”

I took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly. “Mason just wants a baby so damn bad.”

“Is that what he said when you told him?”

“No.” I didn’t meet her eyes, because deep down, I knew I was just using my questionable fertility to wall myself off from something that terrified me. Love. A future. “I didn’t tell him. I didn’t want to see his expression. Don’t want his pity.”

“What about the sympathy?” Mandy asked.

“Is there a difference?”

“Only one way to find out,” Mandy said, then led Cocoa onto my lap and dusted herself off. “Look, I’ve got to get going. Make sure you lock up when you leave, all right?”

I nodded, watching her go, but then she turned around again and said, “You can’t live your life in fear, kid.”

“What if it’s the only thing distracting me from how my heart is breaking?” I asked, and her eyes turned soft.

“Sometimes, you have to let it break. That’s the only way it’s going to heal. Like a hangnail. Rip it off and let the skin grow back.”

I laughed, a hollow sound. “That’s a terrible metaphor.”

“They don’t pay me to be a wordsmith.” She backed out of the enclosure, and I stared down at the cheetah in my lap for another long moment, stroking her fur as she mewled sadly.

First I’d lost my father. Now I might have lost the chance to become a mother myself—the chance to ever have a family of my own that would be full and happy and complete.

The impulse to languish and dissolve into my predicament, just like my mother had done, was strong, almost overwhelming. But then, my mother had allowed herself to dive into her grief, and what had it done for her? Even now, years later, she was letting life drift past her, unlived.

Grieving was a process, not a life sentence and, no matter what the doctor said, I was going to have to face the facts of my father’s death and my own ability to be a mother.

But I didn’t have to do it alone.

Not for the first time, I thought of Mason that day in the sand, my hand in his as he asked me to be his wife. He’d booked a trip just for me. He’d gone out of his way over and over again for my sake.

And what had I done for him? Nothing. I hadn’t even done him the courtesy of letting him know how I felt.

That was something I could change, though.

And for the first time in my life? I wanted to talk about it.