Jackson at Dr. Wilson’s OfficeThursday, 4:00 p.m.I quickly assume my seat anxious for my appointment to begin so it can end. I stand my journal between the seat cushion and the chair arm, hoping she doesn’t see that I brought it. I inwardly cringe at the reaction of Dr. Wilson if sees my meager attempts at placing my thoughts on paper.I refuse the water when offered and Dr. Wilson begins our session. “Let’s discuss ovulation and your thoughts on the in-home insemination process.”I cannot contain the groan that escapes.Dr. Wilson prompts, “Last week, we discussed the first three attempts of fertilization, do you have any concerns for next month.”I realize I cannot avoid her our entire session and decide to participate. “After our first awkward attempt at ‘The Deed’ I think we perfected our process in the second and third attempt. Taylor’s nature is uncomplicated.” I smile. “She makes everything easy drama-free, and...” I search for the right word to summarize the sum of all that i
TaylorJackson arrives home prior to Kennedy again.“Kennedy will be at Madison’s house for most of the night,” he informs. “Madison and Isaac are experiencing problems. Isaac left for a few days, so Madison asked Kennedy to come talk it over and keep her company tonight. What shall we do for dinner?” He asks.I simply shrug.“We can pick up some fast food. The kind of food that Kennedy will never consume,” Jackson suggests.We discuss a few options before I choose Sonic Drive-In, and Jackson agrees. We pile in my Mustang, lower the top, and cruise to the nearest Sonic, where we eat in the car parked at the curb. What is it about the simple burger and tater tots that tastes so delicious? Try as I might, I can never prepare a meal as yummy as this at home.“Why don’t you own a dog?” I blurt as Jackson pulls the car back into traffic.“I haven’t given it much thought,” Jackson replies. “We both love dogs, just not sure we have time for a pet. I work long hours, and Kennedy doesn’t have a
TaylorI’m weeding the front flower beds when a text alert rings from my phone in my back pocket. My gloved hands are much too dirty to read it. I continue to rake the mulch and pull pesky weeds by the root. I wipe sweat from my brow with the sleeve of my T-shirt. Just a couple more feet of flower bed left before I can return to the cool air-conditioning inside.With the last weed in hand, my cell alerts I have another text. I gather the bag of weeds, remove my gloves, and enter the garage. The bag of weeds I place in the garbage can and the gloves I return to the shelf. In the kitchen, I wash my hands and forearms and dry them before extracting my phone from my back pocket.Kennedy: Well?Kennedy: Aunt Flo?Kennedy: Where are you? Period start?Seriously? What happened to no added pressure? I remind myself she’s excited. Kennedy knows my periods are never predictable. I knew it wouldn’t start on the exact day the calendar predicted. My body never follows a twenty-eight-day or thirty-d
TaylorOn Thursday, Dr. Wilson asks me to share items from this week. I open my notebook slowly. Jackson and Kennedy watch, waiting to see what I report.Taking a deep breath, I share. “I have one item I wish to discuss as a group.” I look at Dr. Wilson as I remind her, “I suffer from secondary amenorrhea, so I don’t have regular periods. Kennedy texts and asks me daily if my period starts. Even though I remind her often that I don’t have periods, she continues. She even asks if I should buy a pregnancy test. I don’t want to disappoint Kennedy, but the absence of my period is normal. It’s not necessarily a sign that I may be pregnant.”Dr. Wilson sympathizes with the added stress this causes me. Directing her attention to Kennedy, she asks, “Kennedy, how does hearing Taylor’s words make you feel?”“I remain optimistic that Taylor could be pregnant,” Kennedy states, smiling. “I understand the lack of period doesn’t mean we’re pregnant. I only text and ask because if she started her peri
TaylorMy cell phone buzzes as I approach the girls near the meat case. I look at my text.Jorge: at the lake yet?Me: shopping with your sisJorge: careful she’s used to feeding toddlersMe: I’m in charge of alcoholJorge: smart choiceMe: what you up to?Jorge: workingJorge: on breakMe: weekend’s gonna suckJorge: hair down have some fun“Tell him I say hi,” Martha says, bumping my shoulder, startling me.My eyes dart from my phone to meet two very prying sets of eyes. I attempt to brush it off as nothing important.“Don’t put your phone away,” Reagan pleads.“We won’t pry,” Martha states. “Jorge needs you.” I stare at Martha in fear. Jorge and I are friends, nothing more. We are honest with each other. We keep in touch, but we have moved on. He’s attempting to win Rosalynn back, and I’m helping my friends have a baby. My phone vibrates repeatedly in my back pocket, as Reagan and Martha excuse themselves to allow me to continue our conversation.Jorge: you need fun before you get
TaylorSaturday morning, I sit up slowly from my air mattress. Rising from its edge, I sway on my feet. I steady myself, hands on the wall. Carefully, I slowly stride down the hall to the restroom, where I brush my teeth, wash my face, and brush my hair. Still feeling dizzy, I attempt blowing my nose, then yawning to pop my ears. I try the remedies that usually give me relief with no success.I lightly pad my way downstairs to the kitchen. I place two slices of bread into the toaster, while I find butter, jelly, fruit, yogurt, and a Diet Pepsi. Sitting at the breakfast bar, I nibble on my breakfast while I scan my social media accounts. Deep in thought, I do not hear Kennedy approach. I jump when she touches my shoulder.“Sorry,” she apologizes. “Anything interesting on Instagram?”I shut my phone, placing it on the counter next to me. The toast filled me up, so I slide my fruit and yogurt Kennedy’s way.“I heard a noise in Reagan’s room and Jackson is also up,” Kennedy tells me. “Won’
TaylorToo many people move about the kitchen, so I select a seat at the table until it’s my turn to fix a plate. Jackson and James join me.“Is the lake too busy now for skiing today? Should we do it first thing tomorrow morning?” James asks.“There are plenty of coves to ski in if the center of the lake is too crowded,” Jackson states. “We go home tomorrow, so we need to ski this afternoon and again in the morning.”“Can you show me how you slalom?” James asks.“I’ll show you on the dock, then ski first this afternoon to demonstrate,” Jackson promises.As we take turns fixing our plates, I choose small portions and nibble slowly to calm my stomach. I feel Jackson’s watchful eyes on me throughout the meal. I avoid looking his way. Kennedy and Jackson are overprotective. They seem to forget I’m an adult, and I can take care of my motion sickness on my own. I rise, plate in hand, walking to the kitchen for more cheese and crackers. I grab a bottle of ginger ale from the refrigerator, th
TaylorOn Sunday our last day at the lake, I awake queasy as I have been since we left home. I slowly sit up, swing my legs over the side of the air mattress, then make my way to the hallway bathroom. I splash water on my face, while avoiding my reflection in the mirror. How has anyone not mentioned my flush face and neck this weekend? I take a Dramamine with a quick sip of water from the sink. I place the tiny bottle in my pocket, so I can take another if needed.“Good morning,” I greet Kennedy in the hallway. I block her path toward the stairs. “Are we okay?” Her eyes widen, her smile seems forced. “Last night, what was that about?” I need information; I want information. She is not escaping until I understand.“I’m not sure what you are talking about. Last night is a bit of a blur.” Kennedy speaks, but her eyes don’t convey the same emotion as her words. “I drank all day. I have a killer headache today. Don’t you?”“I didn’t drink much yesterday, due to the meds,” I remind her.“Wha