Page 83 of The Rebound
“She’s lovely,” Louise continues.
“Tell her that to her face and then up her monthly donation. She won’t be able to resist.”
“What was that?” Jess calls. “My ears are burning.”
“Then put on a hat,” I yell back. “Hey, do you have a Band-Aid?”
“Blister?”
I nod, reaching down to tug my shoe off. I guess we don’t all have perfect feet. Jess moves farther away as Louise digs inside her backpack and for a moment we’re completely alone, just the two of us on the side of the mountain.
“This reminds me,” she says, pulling out the first aid kit. “If you’re here for a few more weeks, you should register with a doctor.”
“I’m taking zinc.”
“What?”
“Nothing. But yeah, probably. I think I might get my IUD out.”
“Fun,” she mutters. “How long have you had it?”
“A year? But my periods have been a bitch.” And it’s not like I’m getting the most use of my long-term birth control. “You ever have one?”
“No. I was on the pill for a few years but it messed me up. I could never find the right one.”
“The joys of menstruation.” I flex my foot, choosing my next words carefully. “Must be nice to be off them.”
She says nothing, sorting through the Band-Aids.
I try again. “Did you notice a difference when you stopped? Or did you—”
“You can just ask me, Abby.”
“Right.” I take the Band-Aid from her, growing flustered as I press it to my heel. “Are you… I mean, did they say why you haven’t been able to—”
“Get pregnant?”
I nod.
“No.”
“Oh.”
There’s an awkward beat as I straighten and I think that’s it when she goes on.
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” she says. “At least nothing that they can tell. I’ve done all the tests. Tomasz too. And everything’s fine. Inside and out. We are two healthy, reproductively functioning adults. Who somehow are unable to conceive.”
“How long have you been trying?”
“Two years.” Her voice is matter-of-fact but she doesn’t look at me, pretending to reorganize the kit. “I’m eating all the right food, having sex at all the right times, taking all the right vitamins—and nothing. And no one can tell me why except that sometimes this happens and there’s nothing I can do about it.” She shakes her head, her expression grim. “I almost wish therewassomething. Does that sound awful? At least then I’d know for sure.”
“There are other ways to have a child though, aren’t there?”
“Like what? IVF would wipe out our savings with no guarantee of anything. Adoption is…” She blows out a breath. “A long road. To commit to something like that I’d need to know for sure.”
Two years. I think about the few occasions I spoke with her during that time. The quick layovers, the polite video calls, and birthday emails. And all the while she was trying for a child she so desperately wants.
And I didn’t have a clue.
