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
TaylorJust like any other day, I wake on Monday to a quiet house. I enjoy a light breakfast, complete cleaning tasks, then shower and prepare for my 11:45 doctor’s appointment. With an hour before I need to leave, I print off a new calendar for the refrigerator and a temperature tracking calendar for my room. Then, I save the old calendars in my top dresser drawer.I opt to stand as I wait for the doctor to enter my exam room. Already weighed, left a urine sample, and had my vitals recorded by a nurse, this should be a quick visit. We just need a new script of Clomid and to follow the same steps as the month before.Soon, the doctor enters, tablet in hand. He greets me. “How have you been feeling?” he asks.“We followed all the steps, and we think we’re ready to repeat them again this month,” I answer.He lays the tablet on the counter, looks me in the eye, and states, “That won’t be necessary.”I’m confused. I rack my brain for our conversation from the last visit. I’m sure we discus
TaylorMy mind scrambles for words.Ready?Ready for what?Our first kiss was everything I fantasized about this past year and then some.Is he ready to sleep together?I’m not sure I am ready for that tonight.Our kiss proves our electric passion for each other. I stand in front of him, as he’s seated on his bed; I move between his knees.“I’m ready to explore us too, but I want to go slow.” I swallow, my mouth suddenly very dry. “I need to go slow. We have too much on the line to jump into this.”Jackson nods his understanding.To show my desire for him, I place feather-light kisses on his jaw. He places his hands on each side of my face, guiding my lips to his. This kiss is hotter than the first. Our hands explore arms, shoulders, ribs, hips, and chests.I lift my legs to straddle his lap, aligning my pelvis with his. The heat from his cock exquisitely flows to my core. His hands on my hips grind me into him, and I moan. I continue the pressure as he moves his mouth to my jaw, then
Two Years LaterTaylor“What time is it?” I ask the room.“Twenty minutes after the last time you asked,” Martha teases.“We have five minutes,” Elizabeth announces to everyone. “Taylor, might I have a moment?” She inquires, escorting me onto the balcony for a modicum of privacy. I thought my nerves had reached a pinnacle; a private chat with Elizabeth escalates them even higher. Gerald and Elizabeth arrived with us three days ago to assist with the preparations and the twins. We shopped, dined, and even swam.What will she discuss now, with less than five minutes until we start?Why didn’t she talk to me before now?“You look beautiful, dear,” Elizabeth says. “For many years now, Gerald and I have thought of you as our daughter. Today, you make that official.” She dabs a tissue to the corner of each eye, not wanting her tears to ruin her makeup. “You brought our son back into our lives, you gave us two precious grandchildren, and today you give us the happiness and future we always d
Taylor “Taylor!” Jackson summons loudly from upstairs the next evening.I recap my water bottle before attempting the epic struggle that is rising from the sofa post-cesarean. I peek at the sleeping twins before I slowly and painfully ascend the fourteen stairs from the living room to the second floor. Jackson wouldn’t require me to trudge upstairs if it wasn’t important. I pass the bathroom doorway as it is dark inside. The master bedroom door is open, but no lights are on. I notice light entering the hallway from the nursery. I place my hand on the door frame for support.Jackson sits on his knees at the open nursery closet door. I see no spurting blood, signaling a need to yell at me.“What’s so important I had to climb the stairs?” I immediately regret my icy tone.Jackson turns, rising to face me. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think. I just found the bag and reacted. Are you okay? Want to sit in the rocker? I should have brought it down to you.”I regret my words even more now seeing t
TaylorGroup Session at Dr. Wilson’s OfficeMonday, May 22 “Thank you for securing a sitter and meeting in my office today,” Dr. Wilson greets. “I’ve asked a colleague to join us today. This is Dr. Jacobs.”“Dr. Jacobs, please meet Jackson Hayes and Taylor Taft.” After shaking hands, we take our chairs.“Are you leaving your practice or passing us off?” I question.Why else would she have another professional sit in on our session?“Our topic of today’s session is delicate. I recently shared a situation with Dr. Jacobs. Through our discussion, we decided we should both be present today.” Dr. Wilson assumes her usual chair, pulls out a manila file folder, and begins. “As you are both aware, I met with the two of you and Kennedy individually throughout the surrogacy process. I did not share items from one session with the others, as privacy is vital in the therapy journey.” She smiles at both of us before continuing. “The two of you shared a similar issue with me in your sessions. I ha
TaylorThe doorbell wakes me from my nap. Who could it be on a Wednesday? I slowly rise from the sofa and glance at the sleeping twins in their nearby bassinets on my way to the front door. Through the peephole, I spy Dr. Wilson.Did I forget an appointment?“Hello,” I greet. “Taylor.” Dr. Wilson wraps me in a gentle hug. “I’m so sorry. I read about Kennedy’s passing in the paper. May I come in?”I’m frozen in place. Seeing Dr. Wilson away from her office catches me off guard. She is here to talk about Kennedy’s death.I’m not strong enough to work through this now with her.“Taylor,” Dr. Wilson prompts. “If this is a bad time, I can come back.”“No!” I announce louder than needed. “Come in. I just woke up, so I am a little out of it,” I confess, excusing my actions.“Resting when the twins rest is important,” Dr. Wilson states. “How have you been feeling?” She seats herself on the end of the sofa nearest the still sleeping babies.“Overwhelmed, but I’m sure all new mothers experience
TaylorIt’s Sunday morning, Jackson’s second day back at work. Elizabeth and Gerald are still in town, thank goodness. I climb from bed a bit easier this morning, my pain lessens with each passing day. I peek into the living room to ensure Elizabeth and Gerald are with the twins before I slip into the restroom. I enjoy a few extra minutes to freshen up; then stride toward the kitchen in search of breakfast. My appetite grows every day. I’m told it’s because I need extra energy for nursing.“Good morning,” Gerald greets from the sofa as I walk by.I return his greeting, noting he holds both twins in his lap. I climb upon a kitchen stool.“How’d you sleep last night?” Elizabeth asks, sliding a plate of sausage and tater tots my way. As I rise, she pushes my shoulder down and fetches the ketchup for me.I am very glad they put everything on hold to help Jackson with the funeral arrangements and me with the twins, but eventually I need to do everything on my own. She pampers me too much; i
Taylor“Did you halt the mail delivery while you were in the hospital?” Gerald inquires.My eyes widen. We should have, but we did not.“I’ll walk Nya to the mailbox and back,” Elizabeth offers quickly. “You need to rest and Gerald, you need to sit still so the twins can nap,” she teases her husband.When they return, Elizabeth releases Nya from her leash. She immediately darts to Gerald’s feet. She stands on her hind legs to ensure the twins are safe in his care. Next, she whines at the side of the sofa, wanting me to lift her to my lap. This simple task requires planning on my part. One cannot simply bend over and pick up an eight-pound puppy two days after a C-section. As I cuddle and coo Nya on the sofa, Elizabeth uses kitchen scissors to open a small package. She asks me if she should look inside or wait for Jackson. My eyes remain on Nya as I give Elizabeth permission to open it.Sensing a change in her mood, Nya hops from the sofa to join her at the kitchen island. My eyes foll
TaylorI behave like a perfect patient, and the doctor releases me on Sunday afternoon. As we round the corner, Jackson’s home comes into view. A large sign with balloons attached graces the front lawn, welcoming Carter and Kennedy home.“No, no, no,” Jackson chants. “I told Madison not to tell the neighbors. I can’t handle a party. This is not a time to party.” It might be easy to let his words upset me. The twins are to be celebrated. They are tiny, precious, bundle of joys. However, I completely understand Jackson’s need for privacy. The passing of his wife at the same time his twins are born takes its toll. “I will thank everyone for coming and send them on their way,” I offer. “I’ll fake fatigue.” Not that it would be much of a stretch. I’m exhausted; the thought of relaxing on the sofa or in my bed is my only goal.As Jackson pulls the Mustang into the garage, Gerald and Elizabeth park behind it in the driveway. Jackson opens my door for me and extends his arm to assist me to s
TaylorEmotions somewhat in check, Jackson continues. “Taylor opened her door then yelled to wake me up. I got out and went to help Kennedy. Taylor’s water broke, so the EMTs drove the two of us here, while the fire department extricated Kennedy.” At his mother’s audible gasp, Jackson pauses, and Gerald reaches for his wife. “Taylor was in active labor when Kennedy arrived at the hospital. The babies were in distress, so she was prepped for a C-section. When Taylor went to recovery and the twins to the nursery, I signed forms for Kennedy to have surgery to stop her internal bleeding.” Jackson releases my hand and stands. “Taylor and the twins got settled here while Kennedy had a second surgery.”“It was a long emotional night,” I add, hoping to give Jackson some support in this emotionally tragic story.“This morning, Taylor decided she needed to go down. She paged nurses, insisting they wheel her down to see Kennedy. She didn’t take no for an answer.” Jackson’s Adam’s apple visibly bo