Page 90 of Wish I Might
“The cuddles were important,” she said, still laughing, but she was remembering.
She’d been too far along for a medication abortion, so they’d gone to a clinic in Illinois for a surgical abortion.She’d had the first appointment of the day, so they’d traveled the day before and spent the night in a hotel room.The day of the procedure was a blur—the IV sedation she’d opted for had left her spacy and groggy, and she didn’t remember most of it—but she knew he’d been there.
They’d spent that night in the hotel, too, and when the meds had worn off and the cramps set in, he’d dug out the heating pad they’d packed, curled up behind her in the big, lumpy bed under scratchy sheets, and held the heating pad to her belly with one big hand.
“As I recall, chocolate was important, too.”
“Well, yeah,” she said, and came out of the fog of memories to smile at him.“As my dad always says, never underestimate the healing power of chocolate.”
“Thank God it was February and all the Valentine’s Day candy was out.I think I bought Meyers out of chocolate cremes.”
“You ate your share, if I recall.”
“And half a box melted into the sheets, which you made me take home with us so housekeeping wouldn’t think we’d shit the bed.”
“God, I’d forgotten about that.”
“I didn’t.They charged my credit card to replace them, almost two hundred bucks.”
Her jaw dropped.“You’re kidding.Those sheets were like burlap!”
“An argument I made, believe me.I still had to pay the two hundred bucks.”
She laughed.“Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”
“I don’t know.We didn’t really talk about it afterward.”
“No, we didn’t.”Laughter fading, she sighed.“I didn’t want to.”
“I know.”
“Did you?”
He was quiet for so long she wondered if he was going to answer at all.“Yeah,” he finally said.“I did.”
“Oh.”Her voice sounded faint, soft and somehow fragile to her ears.
In contrast, his voice was firm.“I understood, Bailey.You wanted to put it behind you, for things to go back to normal.”
“Yes, but…” She trailed off, unsure how to go on.“You could’ve talked to me, told me how you were feeling.”
“I didn’t know how,” he confessed.“I had a couple of sessions with one of the school therapists.”
“Did it help?”
His shoulders shifted into a restless shrug.“A little, yeah.”
Relieved, she nodded.“Good.That’s good.”
“I was terrified the first time we had sex.You know, after.”
The words were a sharp stab, right under her heart.“I didn’t know that.”
His smile was faint, and self-deprecating.“I didn’t know how to tell you that, either.”
Helpless, she lifted her hands, then let them drop.“I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.I didn’t tell you to make you feel guilty.”
