On November 1, 2018, he successfully tore down every wall I had built. He was patient, kind, and gentle. We were eating appetizers at dinner when he said, “I want us to be exclusive.”
I was quiet.
“Did you hear me?” he asked with one eyebrow raised.
I nodded with a grin. “Yeah, so, exclusive,” I said as I pondered on his question, “as in you and me only. No outside men or women.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
I laughed.
He reached for my hand and said, “I recognize that you’re everything I want in a woman and then some. If I thought you’d say yes, “I’d ask you to marry me right now.”
I smiled. “That’s sweet.” I leaned over and kissed his mouth.
“I want you to meet my mom.”
“Your mom.”
“Yes. She lives down in Sarasota. I think it’d be a great little getaway for us.”
“Are we staying with your mom or at a hotel?” I asked because we had not officially bumped uglies.
“I mean. I don’t want to assume anything. I just—”
“I’m ready. I feel what you feel.”
*****
That night, we ended up at my place. I was sitting in his lap with my huge breasts in his hands as I slid up and down his meaty shaft. His hands caressed my back. I was in heaven. I hummed and moaned, “Oh, oh, fuck.” I leaned into him causing him to lay back, “Oh my god, Warren, babe, shit.”
He held me still. “You, okay?”
“Um hmm, it’s just so fucking good.”
He rolled and ended up on top of me. One leg over his shoulder as he looked down at me enjoying his stroke. “I’m going to make love to you like this every night.”
I smiled. “Really, Babe?”
“Yeah.”
******
That was the first of many love-making sessions before I met his mother in Sarasota the weekend before Thanksgiving. She was a little old school so she didn’t allow us to sleep in the same room.
Yet, he found ways to creep into my room late at night. It was fun making love secretly, quietly.
After the trip to Sarasota, things moved rapidly. In December he proposed and in March, we were married. It happened just as Ro predicted. I was in love. I couldn’t believe it. He even had me back in church, which made my mother happy.
Ro and her family started joining us on Sunday mornings and afterward, we’d head to a restaurant for lunch. Everything was beautiful. I was ready to start having kids. We had talked about it. We stopped using the pull-out method and threw caution to the wind. Let nature take its course. It was time to become a mother.
Night after night we made love. Night after night, he filled me with his DNA. And month after month, I didn’t get pregnant.
I started to wonder if my past decision was affecting my ability. Like it was the universe’s way of saying when we gave you the chance to become a mother, you threw it away. My heart was heavy.
Warren assured me no matter what that he loved me anyway. He said I was the woman for him, but both of our mothers wanted grandbabies. I had to find out what the issue was, so, I made an appointment with my doctor.
*****
I sat with Warren holding my hand waiting for the doctor to enter the room. There was a knock, and moments later, she entered.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Pamela Jones,” she said as she shook our hands and later sat behind her desk.
“So,” she said as she opened my file, “I don’t want you to get worked up because there are a lot of options available.”
“Options,” I said as I looked at Warren.
“Doctor, does this mean she can’t—”
“It’s not that it’s impossible, it’s going to be a difficult road. You have some scarring on your uterus. This makes it difficult for an embryo to attach itself to your walls and that’s vital for blood flow to the endometrial lining,” she sighed.
My eyes watered.
“I would say keep trying and you can also have your eggs and your husband’s sperm to create an embryo and another woman could carry the fetus to term. It’s not conventional but it’s an option.”
I stood. “Thanks.”
“Also, how have you been feeling?”
“Pretty shitty. I’m sorry. I can’t listen to anything else.” I left abruptly; I heard Warren apologize.
******
The ride home was quiet. When I got home, I went to our bedroom. I got in bed. I felt like a failure. What if I missed my chance, I thought. Those are the evil tricks that your mind plays on you when you’re not given what you want at the moment.
Tears soaked my pillow. I felt hollow inside. I felt Warren climb into bed. he snuggled close to me, his arm covering me. He kissed my neck. “I still love you.”
“You married a dud,” I replied.
“You’re not a dud. Don’t talk like that. Listen,” he said. He insisted that I turn toward him, “We’re going to get through this. I already prayed about it. God will bless us with children.” He touched a few strands of my hair. The sound of his baritone was comforting. I eased closer to him and kissed his lips.
“Thank you,” I said to him lovingly.
“You don’t have to thank me. It’s team us, all day.”
“Team us.”
“That’s right, baby.”
I touched him below. Massaging until he got stiff. He grinned, “You’re a bad girl.”
I got between his legs, and pulled off his shorts. “That’s why you married me right? A lady in the streets and freak in the bed.” I devoured him. He ran his fingers through my long strands of hair.
“Yes, Lord, yes. Thank you, Jesus.”
*******
Trying sex in every position imaginable. Taking all kinds of vitamins and herbs to help boost fertility and praying. We had finally broken the news to our parents that we had been trying. They were as supportive as they could be considering.
I, on the other hand, needed answers. I had abandoned my chakras, sound bowl, and meditation practice because Warren thought it was strange. But at the moment, I turned to a practice that had provided me guidance. I went to my reader.
I went to meet her at this quiet spot near the ocean. It had been a long time since I had seen her. She wore all white. Even her long locs were covered in a white head wrap. She wore an ankh necklace and large hopped earrings.
She greeted me with a hug and said, “It’s been a long time.”
I nodded. “It has.”
“You’ve been on my mind a lot lately. I’m glad you called me for a reading.”
We sat in the sand and she prepared the area. She prayed and then began pulling the cards. She asked me questions and provided me with some answers. The final card she pulled was the Oya card. She paused for what seemed like forever.
Oya symbolizes change. She took a deep breath. “There is a lot of change coming to your life.”
I nodded. “Is it good or bad?”
She reached for my hands. “Change is how the perceiver perceives it. What’s good for me may not seem like a good thing to you. I just need you to hold on because the next year is going to bring a lot of change.”
After the reading, I walked along the shore. My mind kept repeating, change, change, change. The only thing I could do was to prepare myself for the ride.
