The Scorsolini Marriage Bargain

“Endometriosis isn’t something you can predict. They aren’t even sure of what causes it. There are no markers that would show up on tests before it begins happening, so the doctors had no way of knowing that I would have it, much less the impact it would have on my ability to conceive.”

“And your doctor, he is certain of the impact it has had on your reproductive capabilities?”

“Yes.”

He was silent and she could not stand that silence, so she said, “There are some researchers who estimate it is the cause of up to fifty percent of female infertility.”

Which said nothing about the emotional devastation that all too significant statistic wrought. Cold numbers were only that until applied to a flesh and blood woman whose life was forever altered by the disease.

“Obviously many women have this condition then.”

“Yes.” She could have given him numbers, but they didn’t matter. The fact that millions of other women suffered from it did not alter her circumstances.

She was defective and as much as she wished it otherwise, that could not be changed.

“When did it start?”

“I’m not sure. My doctor said that birth control pills are one of the prescribed therapies. It could have started any time since our marriage…even before, but I didn’t know because I didn’t think the monthly cramps I had were all that unusual.”

“The tests…”

“I told you, there is no test for it that gives a marker. Routine fertility tests would only have told us whether my system had been affected prior to our marriage and it wasn’t.”

“So, you could have had it all along?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t usually hit until a woman is in her mid-twenties.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” She wished she did.

“How did you discover you were suffering from it now?”

“The pain.”

“I am sorry.”

“Me, too. After I went off the pill, I started bleeding more and hurting way more than I used to during my monthly.”

“You never said anything.”

“It wasn’t your burden to carry.”

“How can you say that? I am your husband.”

“But I am responsible for myself.”

“So you took it upon yourself to find out what was wrong?”

“Not at first, but…” She sighed and told him about the time she woke from a faint with blood beneath her on the bathroom floor. “After that, I knew I had to find out what was wrong.”

“Even then, you kept it to yourself.”

“It’s the way I was raised.”

“I cannot believe your parents would have expected you to deal with something of this magnitude on your own.”

“Then you do not know them as well as you think you do.” Suddenly overcome with tiredness, she slumped back against him.

The pain bombs were having their predictable effect and her brain was turning to mush. Thankfully she had said pretty much everything that needed saying.

“Perhaps,” he admitted, surprising her. Normally he was too arrogant to admit the possibility he was wrong. “You have had the diagnosis confirmed absolutely?”

“Yes.” She turned her head against him and closed her eyes, her body so relaxed, she was close to sleep.

He said something, but she didn’t quite comprehend it.

“Therese…”

“Hmm…”

“You are not tracking.”

“The pills make me loopy. I want to go to sleep now.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. He lifted her out of the tub and took care of her as if she were a small child. He dried her and dressed her, making sure she was prepared for more nocturnal bleeding.

Then he carried her through to the bedroom and laid her down on a miraculously clean bed. “The blankets don’t have blood anymore.”

“I instructed the staff to change it while we were in the bath.”

“Oh.”

“You did not hear me?”

“Don’t know…I miss a lot of stuff when I’m on the pain pills.” But vaguely she remembered that phone call. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but then closed it again when she forgot what she was going to say.

“I see.”

“What?” she asked muzzily, wondering what he could see that he thought he needed to make note of.

Strange man, her husband.

He said something that she didn’t answer. She was too busy snuggling into her pillow and falling asleep. She vaguely registered being taken into his arms before slipping into total oblivion.

Claudio stared down at the detective’s report on his desk with unseeing eyes. It held no great revelations. Not after last night. He now knew…everything. There was no other man. Therese had not been unfaithful, nor did she want to divorce him because she wanted to move on to something better.