8. A UTERUS OF HELLFIRE

A UTERUS OF HELLFIRE

A wave of pain hit me as I shut the door behind my mother and leaned against it, groaning. I doubled over and clutched my lower belly. Fuck! Ouch! I growled. The pressure had been building all afternoon, and a dull ache had come and gone for an hour or so but the discomfort had turned into something much, much, worse. Of course, I had the night all to myself, with horrible, gut-wrenching cramps. And without a warning, a wave of warm, sticky, wet soaked my underwear. Damnit .

I waddled like a toddler to the bathroom only to realize that I was completely out of tampons, and my period underwear was nowhere to be found. I did what any respectable woman would do when randomly starting her period a week early with nothing on hand, and shoved a wad of toilet paper into my underwear, where it immediately got to work chafing my vulva. I grabbed my beanie and keys off of the console table in a huff and drove to the neighborhood store, hunched over my steering wheel, troll-like, and tortured, to stock up on essentials.

In Heymans, I grabbed two boxes of tampons, a box of pantyliners, pain reliever, a bottle of wine, a pint of chocolate fudge ice cream, and a scented bath bomb, all precariously balanced in my arms because I'd lied to myself when I'd got here about not needing a cart just like every other time I'd ever been to a grocery store in my life.

The cramps worsened by the second. I couldn't stand up straight. My body slowly forced me into a partial fetal position while still on my feet. Pace quickening, I hobbled around a corner without pausing, too distracted by my murderous uterus to spot the tall figure blocking my path until it was too late. I plowed into him, hard , and bounced right off as if I'd collided with a cement wall. Stars flickered behind my eyes and I lost grip on my evening's bounty. In helpless horror, I witnessed my poorly balanced grocery items spill out of my arms.

"Ouch. Shit, I'm so sorry!" I muttered, confused. As tampons, ice cream, and Midol crashed to the floor.

"Danny?" A low, sensual voice asked.

I froze. I knew that voice.

The wine bottle, bath bomb, and pantyliner box remained clutched against my chest. My cheeks heated as I bent down to pick everything else up, and my eyes slowly raked over the black boots in front of me, the black trousers, sweater, the long black coat, then finally flicked up to sapphire eyes that danced with amusement.

"Andras," I said, flustered. Of course this is when I'd run into him, with my undies full of wadded toilet paper, my face pale and twisted in pain, looking like a goblin who just raided a period trove and was running off to hoard it.

I tried to think of a way to escape as quickly as possible while balancing all of my items precariously on my forearm. Andras held a bottle of wine in one hand, another tucked into his coat pocket. He smirked at me.

"Fun night planned?"

"Does it look like I have a fun night planned?"

I lifted the pitiful bounty in my arms just so.

"I'd say it looks bloody fun to me."

His eyes went to the box of tampons, the wine, and then down, below my arms, below my belly. Did he just glance at my crotch? He smiled widely as if he'd just opened a present. I scrunched up my nose. Ew! Weirdo . I prepared to say something devastating, but my lower stomach twisted, and I lurched forward instead, wincing and groaning.

Andras's expression softened, the grin and amusement gone.

"Are you okay? Do you need help? Here, let me carry some—" He took a step toward me, sliding his hand free from his pocket.

"No thanks, I have to go." I said, "Sorry again for bumping into you." I waddled past him towards the cash register.

"I'm not sorry." He looked over his shoulder, "It was good seeing you, Danny. Feel better, love."

Love? Love! I practically hurled my items onto the conveyor belt and jammed my credit card into the machine to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible. At that point, the pain had me nearly doubling over, which provided a horrible little reprieve from any embarrassment I might have felt for looking so godsdamn unhinged. Fuck .

I just wanted to be home, hopped up on pain relievers and half drunk while binge-watching rom-coms with much better meet-cutes until either the booze or the cramps knocked me out. Thanking the cashier with a dip of my chin, I headed for the exit without so much as glancing up from the scuffed white linoleum floor. I scrambled into my car and texted Jess what had happened. She sent back a meme of a woman cry-laughing.

"I hate you," I replied.

The fake-fur throw felt like heaven against my ultra-sensitive goose-pimpled flesh. The pain slammed into me in nausea-inducing waves, but I knew that the pills would work soon enough and the movie would be a nice distraction. I chose the sappiest one I could find, with a predictable plot, so in my tortured state, I wouldn't have to pay much attention while I rocked myself gently, pausing only to take a sip of wine straight from the bottle.

The house was so quiet without the girls; it was both a relief and a sting. But they were happy with my mom, getting pedicures and watching a cartoon in the theater room. And thank the Gods they weren't here right now when sitting upright felt like an impossible challenge (not that I hadn't done it before–I'd had to parent while actively vomiting and shitting my pants before). Now, though, I could just lay on the couch and writhe and groan and wait for the meds to work.

A faint knock at my door woke me. My cramps were gone but I must have been out for a while because the movie had finished and a new one had started, some reality show. I pulled my robe closed tight as I rose to my feet, padding slowly to the door in a sleepy haze. It was dark out but still early enough that I wasn't worried about someone being at the door.

"Who is it?" I called out.

I pressed an ear to my thick oak front door, rising onto my toes to peer out of the ornamental-colored glass at the top of the door. Dark blue eyes met mine, and I stared into them as if in a trance. Without thinking, I turned the deadbolt and swung the door open.

Andras leaned against a porch pillar in his black suit, his hands in his pockets. He smirked at me with a knowing gleam in his eyes. No matter how much I tried to hide my fierce attraction to him, he knew better.

"Andras," I said, clutching my robe to my chest. What are you doing here?"

"Are you alright?" he asked. "I just wanted to come and check on you and tell you that you look beautiful, and I can't stop thinking of you."

Thoughts emptied out of my head and my throat went completely dry. I swallowed hard and it was like trying to gulp down ash.

He pushed off of the pillar and closed the distance between us until he was no more than a handbreadth away. I could feel him exhale against my cheek, his warm breath like a phantom caress, as he looked down at me, eyes burning with predatory focus. He reached out and gently took my hand, bringing it up to his mouth, where he kissed the backs of my fingers with unbearable tenderness. I inhaled sharply and he smiled wickedly down at me. Then he brought my hand up and placed it behind his neck, holding his own hand on top as he leaned in to kiss my cheek, his mauve lips so soft, so gentle. I leaned into him, into the embrace, then slowly turned my mouth to his and—".

Banging. There was banging somewhere in the distance. I lurched forward on the couch, patting at my sweat-damp nightgown, panting. My fingers went to my lips to caress them gingerly. Another dream of him. It had been another dream. I was still in my living room, still a little drunk, and the movie was still playing on the television. A gruff male voice yelled from my porch, "Delivery!" and I jumped in my skin. Then something thudded against the door. At least the cramps were gone, but godsdamnit, why did I have to wake up from that dream? I smiled to myself and electricity swirled in me. I wished I could go back to sleep, back to that moment, and drag him into my house to kiss, and kiss, and kiss.

Retrieving the package from the porch, I smiled at the pillar where Andras had been standing in my dream until a shadow caught the corner of my eye, and my head jerked towards it. Nothing, there was nothing, just the darkness, the chill of the night air, and some rustling pine cones in the neighbor's trees. I dragged the box back into my house, a box full of ten dozen socks of various sizes for children who needed them in the community. I closed the door, locked it, and set the box on the counter, debating if I wanted to go to sleep or try to finish the movie. In my dreams, though, there might be someone waiting for me. I smiled.

I wanted to cling to the delicious joy of being desired. It was only pretend. I could pretend that Andras and all of the sharp lines of his handsome golden face had really shown up at my house to delicately kiss my cheek. Even if a part of me felt ashamed. I was actively trying to save my marriage while fantasizing about another man. What kind of a person did that make me? Probably not a very good one, I supposed.

Padding up the stairs on my way to bed, I thought about Steven, who was on a plane heading home. We'd fallen apart, and I couldn't help but wonder if we'd heal or stay broken.