Page 2 of Aquarius Awakening
As the driver pulled in front of my office building, I put on my oversized sunglasses. Although it was gloomy outside, I feared my eyes would reveal my sadness. I paid for the cab ride and then got out of the car. The lobby appeared to be filled with the models scheduled for today’s casting call. I looked around at the young, hopeful faces. At thirty-five, I felt much older than my age. The lack of sleep over the past few weeks during my recent cycle left my body exhausted. Memories of being young and hopeful flooded my mind as I made my way to the thirty-fifth floor.
When I stepped onto my floor, the sound of my team collaborating made me smile. The designers were having a debate over some design. I gave a nod in their direction so as not to disturb them. With all their commotion, I looked forward to seeing what they were working on.
Right before my office was the office of my executive assistant and best friend, Milani. I gave her a wave. Instead of returning the gesture, she did a thumbs-up and then a thumbs-down motion. My gesture was thumbs down, and without words, she knew I had failed another round of treatment. Milani camefrom around her desk to follow me into my office. I set my bag down as she closed the door.
“Do you need anything?” she asked softly.
“I just need to work. Any type of distraction is welcome right now,” I answered.
“Say no more. The models have arrived, so we can head to the conference room to get started,” she affirmed.
I grabbed a notepad and a pen from my desk. With the number of models we expected to show, it would be impossible to remember everyone. Every casting call was a long process, but I loved it. Milani and I made our way to the back entrance of the conference room. I liked to keep an element of surprise when we did these auditions. As we opened the heavy mahogany doors, the squeals from the young models filled the room.
They all seemed to whisper in unison. “Oh my God! It’s her! It’s Faith Baxter!”
I greeted them as I entered the room. “Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for coming out today for this opportunity withLove Faith.The turnout today is expected to be large, so please don’t be discouraged if you aren’t chosen this time around. You never know when an opportunity will arise, so give it all you’ve got today,” I advised before taking my seat behind the long mahogany desk next to Milani.
The inaudible whispers from young, eager models always brightened my day. This time of the year was my favorite. My throat was parched, so I took a sip from the bottle of water near my nameplate. Milani and I looked at each other, and I gave her a nod to confirm I was ready to get started.
Season of Loneliness
I wokeup early to start my day. Last night, I worked longer than I anticipated. By the time I got home, Mason was asleep. The lack of communication between us after the appointment nudged at my spirit all day. I wasn’t the type to go to sleep with lingering issues in my marriage. However, as the day drew on with no communication from my husband, I just focused on myself.
When I walked past my vanity, I glanced in the mirror. I looked exhausted, and my brown skin appeared dull. It was like my skin showcased the emotions I tried to mask. As I examined my face further, I almost didn’t recognize the woman whostared back at me. I usually looked vibrant and refreshed in the morning. Something had to change and fast because I couldn’t continue this way. After the stare down with myself, I continued to hunt for Mason.
As I entered the kitchen, I noticed Mason at the table finishing his coffee.
“Good morning, babe. I’m sorry I got in so late last night. Do you have time to talk before you leave?” I asked.
“Morning. I’m kind of in a rush, but we can talk quickly. What’s on your mind?” he asked.
I looked at him puzzled. There was no way he could have forgotten the events of yesterday.
“Do you want to continue with the treatment?” I asked softly.
“What’s the point of continuing? Two years and $100,000 later, we have nothing to show for it. Your body isn’t working, no matter how much medicine or money we throw at the problem,” he argued.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Mason’s words made me feel so small. Each time he mentioned my shortcomings, I died inside.
“You sure are sorry. It’s like I got a dud when I married you. All of my friends are on their second kid. Every day, I’m looking at my coworkers showing off their kids, yet here I am, five years into my marriage, with none of my own. What is wrong with you?” He berated me.
I hung my head in shame as his words cut deep. “I don’t know, but this conversation isn’t helping. You think I don’t feel bad that my egg quality isn’t great? I’m as disappointed as you are, probably even more, because I’m the problem. What woman wants to hear that her ovarian reserve is so low that she may need to consider using a donor egg? I’m thirty-five years old, yet my eggs are acting as if they belong to a woman ten years my senior.”
“That’s not my fault. You were right yesterday. We need to take a break... permanently. I don’t want to sit through another appointment being looked at with pity by that doctor. I have had enough,” he commanded.
“So, that’s it? You don’t want to try again ever?” I asked as my chin quivered.
“No, I don’t. Look, I have to get going. This conversation is over, so let’s just move on,” Mason said with finality as he exited the kitchen.
“Move on? Move on from what? I’m supposed to give up on my dream of becoming a mother because you give up?” I fumed through my tears.
The door slammed and shook the entire house as Mason stormed out.
I stood in the same spot in the kitchen for God knows how long. As if in a daze, I looked around my kitchen. Each piece of this home, Mason and I picked out together. Our three-bedroom condo on Park Avenue was a bit of a fixer-upper when we purchased it. Every inch of our home was a reminder of happier times. The stone backsplash we found while watching one of those shows about people doing remodeling. A house once filled with love and optimism now made me feel like the walls were closing in on us.
When I sat in Dr. Carter’s office yesterday, I hoped we would take a break and then regroup later. If I had known this would be the outcome of my statement, I wouldn’t have mentioned the break at all. I knew from his silence yesterday that he would react this way. After every failed cycle, there was always an argument. He repeatedly blamed me for the shortcomings of my body. This conversation had been the worst yet. The way he walked out was consistent with the dismissive nature I had grown accustomed to. It saddened me as I reflected on how ourloving relationship seemed to turn into a business partnership that I was unable to fulfill.
Mason and I met six years ago when one of my girlfriends from college was dating one of his friends and introduced us. We both unknowingly ended up on a double date. Mason was charismatic and easy on the eyes, so it wasn’t difficult to get to know him. His dark brown eyes, espresso-colored complexion, and muscular build, which filled a suit, captivated me.
