Page 26 of Venus
“Maybe we should practice keeping more thoughts to ourselves,” she says, and I think she meant it softly, but it almost snaps out of her like she’s already exhausted by the conversation. “I’ve told you a hundred times this isn’t going anywhere.”
“But it is. You know it and I know it.”
“So let’s say I do. Hypothetically. I already told you this will never be serious, so why do you bother bringing it up?”
She says it so coldly, so firmly. Like it’s been rehearsed. A speech she’s practiced just for the poor guy who can’t let her go.
I take a deep breath. “Can I at least know why, V? Please…maybe it would be easier if I understood where you’re coming from.”
She sits up, but pulls the blankets up to cover her chest. Not running, but it looks like she’s getting ready to tell me a horror story.
“I’m broken,” she says.
I sit up too, relaxing back on my elbows. “Is that what this is about? A bad heartbreak?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t mean heartbroken. I mean really broken. Physically.” She goes still and looks down slightly, gathering strength for whatever it is she’s trying to tell me. “I lost my virginity when I was fifteen to a senior at my high school. You know…the whole young and in love thing. We didn’t use protection and after a few weeks, my period was two days late and I started panicking about possibly being pregnant. I was so scared of ruining both of our lives, and stupidly, I was afraid of him leaving me if he found out. I was afraid my parents would disown me. I didn’t know what to do…so I…” She takes a deep breath. “I took my dad’s old truck and told him I was going out to the corner store for some soda. But instead of going to the store I—I hit the gas and rammed head-on into a tree hoping that I’d do enough damage to miscarry if I was pregnant.”
“Jesus, V,” I breathe.
“I know…it was stupid. I was unconscious, but when I finally woke up in the hospital, everything got so much worse.”
In my mind, I’m wondering how.
Another deep breath leaves her mouth. “It turns out I did so much internal damage that I had to have a complete hysterectomy at fifteen. They removed myuterus and I completely lost my ability to ever carry children. And the worst part? I was never pregnant to begin with. So I almost killed myself and ruined my future family over nothing.”
She looks down in shame, and then with red-rimmed eyes, she gives me an unconvincing smile. “Not exactly first-date material, huh?”
I don’t know what to say. Mostly, I feel sorry for that girl that was so scared of a baby that she would go to those lengths to eliminate a possibility she wasn’t even sure about. I don’t want her to feel exposed, and I’m not sure I want to go back to asking what all this has to do withus, so I stay silent.
As if she didn’t just pour her heart out to me, she says, “Anyway, I’ve made peace with it. But guys? Men? It’s usually a dealbreaker, especially since we’re still technically young. I tell them, and they’re nice about it, but the relationship doesn’t last long after. Most guys want kids eventually, even if they say they don’t when they’re young. I get it, but it gets exhausting, so I just do everyone a favor and promise not to get attached right from the beginning.”
“You’ve given up on relationships entirely because of a mistake you made when you were fifteen?” I ask.
“No,” she says back, cool as a cucumber. “I just think it’s only fair to be upfront about my intentions.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I say.
She gives me a look. “Is it?”
“Yes. You’re intelligent, funny, painfully beautiful, and stubborn as hell. If some guy walked away from all of that, that’s on him. Not you.”
“You don’t get it, Carter. It’s not fair to ask a man to give up that joy for me.”
“Who says a man can’t be just as happy with you? Only you. Not to mention there are so many other ways to have kids. Adoption. Fostering. Hell, having a pet. You still deserve to love and be loved for exactly who you are, regardless of your lack of a uterus.”
Her expression softens for a second—but only a second.
“Do you want kids?” she asks, like its a test.
“Don’t turn this around on me,” I warn. “Fuck what I want. This conversation is about you. And V, I’m telling you that I want you, exactly how you are. I wouldn’t walk away because of something you can’t control.”
She doesn’t say anything for a while, she simply lies back down and stares at my ceiling. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Okay,” I whisper. I mean it. As much as I want to get it through her stubborn little noggin that she’s not any less of a person to me because of a trauma she went through years ago, I don’t want to push her too hard. Instead, I trace the lines of her face. “How about a shower?” I ask.
She glances over to me, brow raised. “You kicking me out already?”
I grin. “Nah. Just figured I’d cook something while you rinse off. Unless you’d rather sit here marinating in our sins.”
