Page 70 of I Almost Do

James calls me five minutes later. Palms sweaty, I head to my bedroom and shut the door before I answer.

"Hello?"

"What the fuck is going on?" he bites out.

"Hello, Clarissa! How is your day?" I imitate his deep voice. “Why, it's just fine, James. Thanks for asking.”

"Do not fuck with me right now, Clarissa. I will haul your ass out of that backwater town before you can say ‘college dropout.’"

I actually pull the phone away from my face to stare at it before I rally and snap back, "Please. You are not pulling me out of school with one week left to go. You're the one who's always freaked out at the idea of me quitting school, not me, so don't threaten me with a good time."

That's not an entirely accurate statement, but it is guaranteed to get a rise out of him.

I can hear him gritting his teeth through the speaker.

"Clarissa," he says slowly, with obvious forced patience, "please tell me why you need a doctor."

I flop on my bed, then groan because it made the cramps so much worse. "Sydney's being dramatic."

"She's not dramatic," he says. "She's blunt. There's a difference."

Huh. Wow, I think Sydney just earned a little respect from James. And it only took turning traitor to get it.

"It's just uterus-owner stuff," I say. "I've been getting bad period cramps lately, so I need to see a gynecologist. They'll probably put me on birth control to regulate my schedule."

I don't tell him that in the last month, the cramps are now 24-7. Or that it's not just cramps. I'm bleeding intermittently all month long now. This week, the pain around my left ovary has become nauseating in its intensity.

"Okay, how long has this been going on?" he asks.

I think back. "The period cramping started last summer, while I was in Europe, and then it's just slowly gotten worse."

James doesn't say anything for a long moment. I clear my throat.

His control snaps. "Almost eleven months. Are you kidding me?"

"It's not something for you to get worked up over. A lot of women have cramps. It's part of getting older. It's just lately it's getting to be a bit more of an issue." I'm gaslighting. I'm agaslighter.

"We talk to each other or text every single day, and this is the first time I'm hearing about this."

I'm…. Whatis thatin his voice? I have never heard that tone from him.

"I didn't want to worry you."

"It's not your job to protect me. It's my job to protect you, and I can't do that when you're lying to me and hiding things from me."

I want to unpack all that because it makes no sense at all. I'm not his child. He's not my parent. We should be protecting each other. Helping each other.

And though I admit keeping this from him was stupid, it's not an excuse for him to treat me like I'm a child.

So I have a hang-up about the doctor. Yes, it's bad. But I watched my mother die when I was four and my father die when I was barely twenty.They both died. Of cancer. I'm entitled to have an occasional issue to work through.

James loves me. I know that.

But sometimes he acts like a parent who's sent a child off to college. I'm his wife, not his kid. Why does everyone seem to be forgetting that today?

"Why didn't you go to the doctor?"

"I have an issue with doctors," I admit. "Because of my mom and dad.”

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