Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
More people join us at the table, and soon everyone’s laughing and telling stories. Most of them work with Mona and Ezra at YLA. It’s obvious they respect Ezra a lot. And it’s obvious to me that more than one of them, guys and girls, are crushing on him. If he weren’t with Aiko, he could have his choice of office romances.
As the meal winds down, the bright colors of sunset fading into evening, I take my cue from Mona and start carrying empty dishes back into the house.
“So what’d you think of Barry?” Mona asks, opening the dishwasher and loading a few plates.
“Who?”
“You know. Barry.” Mona straightens, puts her hands on her hips and offers a suggestive smile. “Dark hair, pretty brown eyes, wearing the Georgia Tech T-shirt.”
“Oh, him. Am I supposed to think something about him in particular?”
“He asked if you were seeing anyone,” she lilts.
“He did? Hmm. Not sure he’s my type.”
“Because he’s not rich?” Mona asks, rolling her eyes.
“No, of course not. He’s got a biker body.”
“Biker body?”
“You know, that real lean look. Like he hasn’t had a meal that wasn’t an energy bar in a while and like he metabolizes every calorie before he even eats it. I’m not a little girl. I like a not-a-little man or I feel like I might crush him.”
“You’re not a big girl.”
“Bigger than him.” I laugh. “Does he or does he not bike?”
Mona blows out a short breath. “I hate you.”
“I knew it.” I point a serving spoon at her. “He’s got that Lance Armstrong look.”
“I can confirm he has both his balls.”
I angle a WTF look at her.
“I mean, I don’t know know, like firsthand,” Mona says, laughing. “But one can assume.”
“Well, this one doesn’t need to know.”
“Are you not in the market for a relationship? Or even a fling?”
“I don’t know what I’m in the market for.”
“Girl, same. And my mama is riding me hard about grandkids. I tried marriage and it wasn’t for me. Lasted about two years and ended badly.” A shadow crosses her face, and though I can see her try to shake it, she doesn’t quite succeed.
“You think you’ll try again?” I ask.
“Probably. Right person, yeah, sure. I love kids and might if only to have a baby and a partner I respect enough to raise it. How about you? You want kids?”
The question crashes into me unexpectedly, like a wrecking ball right to the chest. When people asked me that before, I played it off, or shrugged and said someday. Now my someday has an expiration date. I haven’t allowed myself to process it, but standing alone in Mona’s kitchen with an old friend, the first person I confided my “girl” stuff to, everything comes to the surface.
“I’m in perimenopause.”
Mona frowns, then her eyes widen in realization. “You’re in what? Menopause?”
“Perimenopause, but yeah.” I point to my midsection and pelvis area. “All of this is vacating the premises earlier than expected.”
“But we’re in our thirties.”
“Exactly.”
Mona stops loading dishes and gives me her full attention. “How do you feel? What does this mean for, like, kids? You want them?”
“I think I do, yeah, but not now. I didn’t want them right now, and my doctor makes it seem like now or never. She thinks I may have a year and a half to two years, somewhere around there, if I want one naturally.”
“Shit.” Mona digs her hands into the front pockets of her denim cut-offs. “You already started treatments? My mother did hormone replacements.” She winces. “Not that you’re like my mom’s age or anything. I didn’t mean it to sound like—”
“Don’t worry. I know what you mean. My mother’s barely in menopause, much less me. And my doctor wanted me to try a homeopath first.”
“How’s it going?”
“Oh, it’s going all right.” I grimace. “I’ve been ‘going’ for two days straight. She gave me some detox pills and some other stuff to try to restart my cycle and address some of the other symptoms I have just a little of.”
“Wait.” Mona’s eyes widen. “You don’t have a period anymore?”
“Not in four months.”
“And once your period comes back? Do you then start trying to have a baby?”
“Well I don’t have anyone to do that with. Even if I can get pregnant, it’s the worst time for that. I’m about to go back on the road for a campaign.”
“Who?” Mona leans forward, her voice lowered.
“I hope Mateo Ruiz,” I say, a bitter curve to my lips. “But he’s not sure he wants me yet.”
“You just elected the president,” Mona says indignantly. “You don’t have anything to prove.”
“Yeah, that’s how I thought about it at first, too, but each candidate has to feel comfortable with the person leading their campaign. He’s right not to assume that just because I was the right person for Maxim that I’m right for him.” I give a self-deprecating smile. “Besides, Daddy always used to say it was better to be accused of modesty than of being too big for your britches.”