I walk out of the exam room, feeling depressed after dealing with my last client?
?? a woman who brought in her twelve-year-old cat that only has one tooth left, is no longer eating, and will most likely not live past the weekend. I love my job, but there are days when I wish there was someone else to give the bad news I too often have to deliver.
“July.”
I look up and watch my mom walk toward me with a wide smile. “Hey, Mom. What are you doing here?”
“I came to see if you had time to get lunch,” she says, wrapping her arms around me in a warm hug that relieves some of the tension I’m feeling.
I look at my watch when she lets me go and start to tell her I don’t have time but stop when Kayan joins us. “You just had a cancelation. Go on and have lunch with your mom.”
“Are you sure?” We’ve been slammed for the last two months, ever since one of the other local vets retired. Which is another reason I wanted to go to the Area 51 event—I need a break from the stress of work, a weekend to just relax and have fun.
A weekend where I’m not thinking about the fact that, no matter what I do, I can’t have a baby with my husband.
“Go hang with your mom,” Kayan repeats, pulling me from my thoughts by wrapping her hand around my upper arm. “I’ve got you covered until you get back.”
“Thanks.” I give her a smile then look at my mom. “I need to go to my office and drop off this stuff.” I motion to the papers in my hands. “Give me five and I’ll be right back.”
“Sure, honey.” Her expression softens. “Take your time.”
With one last smile directed at her and Kayan, I head to my office and slip out of my white coat. I grab my purse and check my cell for messages, finding I have none, which means Wes is probably still mad at me. With no other choice, I meet my mom in the lobby, plaster on my best fake happy face, and take her hand as we leave the office and head to her car across the lot.
Buckled in, I look out the window as she drives past the park next to my vet office and watch a mom embrace her little boy with a hug. Watching her kiss his little head, tears tighten my throat and burn the back of my eyes as I close them.
“Talk to me,” Mom says quietly as she parks in front of one of the local cafés. I turn to look at her.
“About what?” I raise a brow, feigning ignorance.
“I love you, honey, with everything I am, and part of me loving you is knowing when something is going on. I want you to talk to me.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, like I’ve been doing for a while now.
She grabs my hand and attention, and I hold my breath as our eyes lock. “Honey, you’re not okay. You haven’t been okay for a long time.”
“Mom—”
“Are you and Wes all right?”
My nose stings with unwanted tears. “We’re good.” I love him more than I ever thought possible, and our love has only grown each and every day. Our issues are not ours; our issues are mine, because every single month, I wait for the impossible to happen, and when it doesn’t, I lose a little more of myself. I know for him it doesn’t matter if we ever have a child, but for me, it does. I want to be a mom. I want to share the love we have for each other with another living, breathing soul. I want a family of my own.
“Sweet girl, is it about—”
“Please don’t,” I whisper, my breath catching in the back of my throat. I know she’s thinking about my latest round of IVF and how it turned out.
“Okay, honey, I won’t talk about it, but you have to know you are so loved, so, so, so loved. Nothing is going to change that.”
“I know.” I do know that, but that doesn’t change the fact that I feel like I’m broken, like there’s something wrong with me. No matter what I do, there is a constant pain in the middle of my chest and a hole in my heart that seems to be impossible to fill.
“I’m here anytime you need to talk, vent, or cry. I won’t ask questions or give my opinion, but I’m here for you, honey, no matter what.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I mean that. I’m lucky to have the support of my family, so very lucky to have them and Wes telling me every day how much they love me. I don’t know what I would do without them. I don’t know what I would do without the love I feel from them.
“Let’s just enjoy lunch,” Mom announces, and I nod then close my eyes when she touches her hand to my cheek. When the warmth of her palm drops away, I pull in a deep breath then follow her out of the car and into the café for lunch, wondering how much longer I can keep pretending I’m okay when I’m not.
3
July