Sincere Apology

I pulled up her test results in the examination room.

"Calcium is a bit low. Keep taking the supplement. Also take Vitamin D. I didn't test for that today, but it never hurts to keep the levels up. We'll run a test for it next time. Oh -- and congratulations."

She looked at me with absolutely no emotion. I was unnerved.

"You're pregnant," I said.

I expected happy tears. Or laughing tears. I expected something.

She just said, "Okay," put her clothes on and left.

**********

Betsy

About once a week I called on Mia. We had our own little support group. Two women who had come to grief. I always came with a bottle of wine and something baked. I told her I was lonely. Maybe I was, even with three preteens and a couple of thousand head of cattle.

I worried about her.

Mia was one of those beacon people. Always a beaming smile like a lighthouse. Guiding her friends to her regardless of the weather.

These days she was as sober as a judge. You'd never know she had teeth.

Speaking of sobriety, we always finished off that bottle. Her more than me, and the difference in our body masses left her more tipsy by far at the end of our sessions.

Today I was talking about a quilt I was thinking of making. Of course, I would have to learn how to quilt first, and buy all the materials -- whatever they were -- and--

Mia touched the bottle of wine, caressing it with her finger tips, moving her lips reading the text. Almost like she had found something long lost.

I took a glass from her cupboard. "How much?" I asked.

She shook her head ever so slightly. "I guess I shouldn't."

Her eyes said she should. She wanted to.

Finally she sighed as if frustrated.

"I'm pregnant."

I put the glass down and embraced her.

"Oh, Mia! That's wonderful! Noah must be over the moon!"

She was still in my arms.

"He doesn't know."

I shivered. Worry turned in an instant to fear.

**********

Lawson

I had to wait until after dinner to get her alone again. Once the kids went to their rooms to finish their homework, I got a beer and sat back down at the table, Betsy across from me.

"He doesn't know?"

She shook her head. "That's what she said - as of this afternoon anyway."

I must have had a transparent look on my face. It is why I never was any good at poker.

"Do not go to Noah," Betsy said sternly.

I held up my hands. Wouldn't think of it.

Our eyes met.

"You would tell me." I sort of asked.

She smiled, but her trembling biceps gave her away. Under the table she was clenching her fists.

**********

Noah

She had just finished trying to kill me. To fuck me so hard I would give out and fall over dead. The woman had endless energy. She got on top and rode to the horizon, her orgasms not even speed bumps.

This I could not fathom. She was finishing with more power than I had ever felt in her. And more often. It was like a setting had been changed, her operating system had been reprogrammed. I could not stay hard for as long as she wanted anymore. We lay side by side and she rubbed her pussy vigorously.

She made herself orgasm one more time, a long exhaled musical note and shaking legs.

Then the bed was still.

"I'm pregnant," she said. With no more positive or negative emotions in her tone than if she were reading an item off a shopping list.

I raised up and looked down at her.

"Since when?"

She said, "Found out last week." And turned onto her stomach and went to sleep while I tried to think of something to say and something to feel.

**********

Mia

Maybe I will drive into Conner City. They have two tattoo shops. I will get that skull and the wings. And then put some horns on it. And sleeves of tribal patterns. They tell you not to get a tattoo while you are pregnant. I might do it.

Noah watches me. I catch him often. He's not stealthy. I see his eyes through the shelves at the store. I ignore him.

What the hell does he want from me?

**********

Noah

Nine weeks later, it happened again.

We were home late at night, watching a cooking show, on the same couch but on opposite ends. We were also outwaiting each other. Over the last few weeks, if I went to bed first, Mia stripped, followed me in, and stress-tested my cardiovascular system

If she went to bed first, I watched television for an hour or so and then went to sleep in the guest room.

It worked out that I was getting every other night off, on average. I could probably just keep this pace up without collapsing.

One night she went into the bathroom and stayed in there for half of a plum thumbprint cookie episode. She came back out and sat down. I thought she looked pale. I turned on the lamp. She was definitely pale.

I didn't ask her why. I knew she would not have given me a straight answer.

When this truth slapped me, I wanted to cry.

I did cry when I went to use the bathroom and found traces of blood on the floor and the toilet seat, smeared when she cleaned it up with a towel I found wadded up in the hamper.

I went out and stood between her and the cooking show. The judges were making their evaluations, and Mia was obviously pissed that I was blocking her view.

She looked up at me and shrugged.

"Lost it."

I gasped. "Whe--"

"Flushed."

**********

Betsy

This was a first. Dr. Campbell's office called and asked me to come in. The doctor's office manager heard the surprise bordering on panic in my voice and quickly reassured me that there was nothing wrong. The doctor just wanted to visit.

Visit? I was only partially reassured. I had never gone to a doctor to visit.

Dr. Campbell showed me into her office, not an examination room. I hoped that was good news. Unless I had an inoperable tumor. Oh no -- did I have an inoperable tumor?

I sat down, wildly and scarily not reassured.

"Betsy, I need to talk about some personal matters. About our friend, Mia Goodwin."

I sat back at the Doctor calling Mia her friend instead of her patient. And calling me by my first name, something she had never done before.

"Doctor--"

She raised a hand. "Please, call me Susan."

"Okay," I said warily.

Doc-- okay, Susan, pressed her hands together. "This is... delicate. I am violating a patient's confidentiality, but I am extremely concerned about Mia. Can we keep this conversation between us?"

"Of course."

"I know that you and Mia are close. You must have noticed how she has changed lately."

"Yes. Losing two babies...."

Susan nodded and looked at me. Losing one baby....

Had I changed? Could she see that? She must see how I flushed.

"The hospital in Conner City administers rural outreach programs in many areas. They are going to start sending a nurse psychotherapist to us every other Wednesday to conduct group and individual sessions in topics like smoking cessation, weight loss, sexual dysfunction, and coping with the loss of a child."

The Doctor had nailed me twice.

"That sounds... good." I agreed.

"I mentioned this to Mia the last time she was in, but she wasn't interested. She told me she was fine, that she didn't need anyone telling her she wasn't."

"Do you want me to get her to go?"

Susan smiled a devious smile, the kind of smile you never want to see on your family physician.

"Not exactly."

**********

Lawson

I knew he would be at work. Sure enough, he was mixing a gallon of paint for a friend of mine. We talked about the price of beef on the hoof and in the butcher shop until his purchase was complete and he departed.

I nodded at Noah. "She's gone. Or... they've gone."

He glanced up at the big clock and sat down on the metal half bench next to the paint mixing machine. "Please tell Betsy how much I appreciate this, Lawson."

"I will do that."

Betsy had come home from her appointment with Dr. Campbell and told me of their scheme. It was actually the doctor's, but my wife had bought in immediately.

Mia would not go to therapy to save herself, but she just might go to save her friend.

Betsy visited Mia and told her about the nurse. Mia said that she had heard this and it was no concern of hers.

"Mia," Betsy had said, "you are strong. You don't need help. But I do." Here she had begun to cry, and though the whole thing was an act, and a pretty good one, the tears were true.

"I am failing Law. If this goes on, he will leave me. I know it."

Mia's eyes widened. "But he loves you."

"It's not enough," Betsy sobbed. "I am hurting him every day. I need help, and I am not brave enough to do it alone."

So with just a bit more persuasion, Mia agreed to go to the sessions with her friend and hold her hand and help her survive her shyness.

I had the bad manners to guffaw when I heard this retelling, then I quickly shut my mouth.

"Sorry, dear. I don't mean to make light of it." But I had to smile. I moved to her and took her in my arms. "It's just that you are the bravest and toughest woman I have ever met. It should be Mia being the timid one."

Betsy nodded against my shoulder. "I used to think so. Now...? She's like a different person. Each time I see her she is someone else."

"And some of those someones," she added quietly, "I don't really care for."

**********

Mia

Well, that was a kick in the head.

The nurse is a guy.

John, didn't catch the last name. It's on the sheet he passed out.

He is a looker. Dark wavy hair, big sensuous lips, broad shoulders. Eyes black as night. When he looks at me I get a tingle.

This is my kind of therapy.

We sit in a circle. Me, Betsy, Mary Jane Walker, Jennifer Gomez. Mary Jane's son drowned in a swimming pool last year. Hadn't learned to swim or even float and got left in the backyard by himself. Four years old. Jennifer's daughter died of some aggressive cancer. Her husband took off the next day.

Jesus, what a bunch of crybabies.

I noticed the looks they gave me when I had to tell my story. Which I did when it was my turn, even though I was just there to support Betsy. I told them it was no big deal. It was life. Which might have been an insensitive thing to say, even though in retrospect I thought it was funny. They all teared up at that, except for John.

He understands.

He doesn't have a cunt, but I can tell he understands what it is like to have one that is broken.

**********

Noah

She was still up by the time I got home. I had stayed pretty late at the store doing a totally unnecessary inventory of the key blanks. I couldn't make up my mind whether to be there for her when she got back from therapy or let her have some time alone. In the end, my cowardice ruled.

She sat at the dining room table with her laptop. I kissed the top of her head, waiting for her response. Whatever she did would tell me my next move.

She ignored me.

I went into the bedroom, undressed, and got into bed. I lay there waiting for her to come in and attack me. Instead, I heard her go to the guest room. The door shut firmly.

The house was quiet for the next few hours. I could not fall asleep.

She was gone.

**********

Lawson

"A man?"

That was... what? Sexist? Probably. Men could be nurses, women could be doctors. It's just an old ingrained response to think that a nurse is probably going to be female.

"How...." I wanted to say How was he?, which was the same as asking how the therapy went, which was the same as asking if she was cured yet.

I wisely, I think, did not pursue that line of questioning.

"Yes. John... I've forgotten his last name. It's on the handout. Just moved from California. Mrs. Walker was there. And Mrs. Gomez. You remember them. So sad."

I nodded. Sad. "How did Mia respond? Did she catch on?"

Betsy smiled. "Nope. It was like she had dragged me there instead of the other way around. She and John seemed to hit it right off. We had some discussions and did some exercises. She was very into it. I think it will do her a world of good."

I was standing up, leaning against the kitchen counter, holding a beer. I didn't care at that moment if it did Mia a damn bit of good. Or Mmes. Walker and Gomez.

I broke my resolution.

"And how about you?"

"Law," she said quietly, "don't ask. Please?"

"Okay."

She regarded me for a long time. I looked back at her, my face impassive.

"Husband?"

"Yes, my wife."

"Will you take me to bed and just hold me and make me believe that you will never ever leave me?"

I nodded. I could and I would and I did.

**********

Betsy

Five weeks of group and I think I know myself a little better. I had never actually sat down and thought about my sexuality. I always just let it happen. And it happened. Regularly and dependably. Until it didn't happen at all.

John and I did some individual sessions. He pointed out that there was no one way to climax. The combinations of physical stimulation and mental images, feelings, thoughts were unique to each person. He gave me some materials to read. Pretty explicit materials. Exercises to do when I was... alone.

Even though he was a professional, he was still a man. A man I did not know all that well.

It was embarrassing. But I shook that feeling off. I had to do this for Law.

The first thing I did was go to Susan, or Dr. Campbell, or whatever I was supposed to call her now, and get a complete pelvic exam. Although I knew the problem was in my head, she had to rule out the possibility that my gears had grit in them. They didn't. As far as my pussy was concerned, I should be able to go off like a string of firecrackers on Chinese New Year.

One of the... homework assignments involved a vibrator. When I read that in the pamphlet, I think I turned the brightest red ever.

I had never even held one. I thought they were for old maids, for perverts and lesbians. When I was young, I touched myself, sure, and made myself orgasm, but as soon as I discovered what a man's fingers could do down there, what his penis could do in there, I felt like I shouldn't have to settle for my little hands.

I locked myself in the bedroom and looked up vibrators.

Holy crap.

Pages and pages. All kinds of scary sizes and shapes.

I quickly ordered the simplest one I could find and turned off the computer. I felt convinced someone was going to knock on the door and accuse me of being... a vibrator needer.

It came two days later. Faster than I can get an order of baling wire. This made me think about the world's priorities.

I kept a constant vigil out the kitchen window for the delivery truck, standing at the sink, washing and rewashing by hand every dish, bowl, pan, pot, and utensil we owned. My hands were chapped, but I had to get that package first. I imagined Lawson seeing it and feeling that he had been replaced. I imagined one of the children finding it and taking it to school to show their friends.

By the time I had the little cardboard box in my hands I was a nervous wreck.

**********

Noah

On the nights Mia had therapy, I made myself a rum and Coke and went to bed early. There was no chance of her joining me. We hadn't had sex since she started going to the group.

I had long ago given up asking her to share with me. To tell me what she was feeling, thinking. Hell with it. She had a professional to help her now. I was out, an amateur, a piker who just happened to love her.

Not only would she not share, she barely talked to me. At home, nothing but grunts. At the store, she talked to customers and our other employees but not one word directly to me.

Fuck it. That night I had two rum and Cokes, like a wild man, and fell asleep easily.

The front door slammed. I woke up and looked at the clock. 3:15 am? I went into the front room and found Mia standing there, swaying and obviously drunk.

"Where have you been?" I said. I should have been yelling, but I had a sudden instinct that the time for those emotions had come and gone.

She smiled at me. It was a smirk, really. It was a smirk that said you don't matter to me anymore.

"I was getting fucked," she said. Then she said it again as if to convince both of us of the realness of it. "Fucked. Because you can't take a hint."

Then she walked out. I heard her get into her car and accelerate away.

**********

Mia

John was flirting with me from the get go. I could see the eyes he shot at me in group when he thought he could get away with it. In individual, he would sit very close to me and touch my arm to emphasize a point.

He actually tried to help me as well as trying to seduce me, but I didn't want that kind of help. All I could think of was how to get Noah to stop wanting to keep me. I had shut him out. Of sex, of conversation, of everything, and he still gave me those puppy dog faces.

I need to be replaced. He just doesn't get it. He thinks he loves me - as if that will do anything. I can do no wrong with that guy.

I need to do something unforgivable.

**********

Lawson

I leaned against the wall outside of our bedroom door and listened to my wife fuck herself.

I had come home from the feedlot, my boots covered with that muck that accumulates on the ground in feedlots, a slimy mix of cow shit and water and flattened grain, took off my boots, and walked in socks through the house looking for Betsy.

For some reason I did not call her name. When I got to the closed door, I heard faint moans and a tiny buzzing sound.

I smiled. She had forgotten that our online shipments were shown in the order history along with a big color picture. When I checked yesterday to see when some plastic pails were coming, I saw the vibrator.

I didn't order it.

Must be for her therapy, I thought, but did not ask her about it. It was a personal item. If she chose to share with me, that was one thing. Otherwise, I would pretend I never knew.

Listening to her sounds of passion -- I felt embarrassed. And abandoned. And excited.

Most of all, I felt proud of her. I felt like cheering, which would have been very weird. She had taken the problem on and was trying to solve it.

Although the sounds that she was making were not those of someone having a problem.

**********

Mia

John thought he had convinced me to get in his car and drive to the little motel outside town. In reality, it was me who convinced him. He was so ready to accept his prowess in seduction he was blind to my role.

He practically dragged me into the room, then he kissed me and started to take my clothes off. I probably should have felt at least some shame. He was the second man to see me naked and ready to screw.

He dropped his pants and showed me the only other erect penis I had ever seen in the hairy flesh. It was shorter than Noah's and thinner too. I wasn't disappointed. I wasn't here to have some grand erotic fuck. I was here to ruin myself.

I was here to make myself so horrible to Noah that he would give me up. I wasn't his soulmate. I wasn't his baby maker. I wasn't--

John threw me onto the bed and mounted me.

I wasn't wet, goddamn it, and it hurt. He started jackhammering into me and I started to scream.

Not because of the pain. Not because of the humiliation. Certainly not in pleasure.

I was screaming because he was not protected.

I felt his cock inside me. He wanted to spew semen inside me up to my cervix, into my womb.

I dug my nails into his back.

"YOU BASTARD! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!" I shrieked as he tried to pull away from me.

I raked trails of flesh from his back. His turn to scream.

All the little incomplete babies squirmed in my eyes. My failure as a woman, as a wife. It was not my fault. It was men and their fucking.

"FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!" I yelled.

He wanted to put another fetus into me. Another one that would be so disgusted to find itself in my womb that it would crawl out of my cunt and drop into the toilet instead of coming out and growing up as my child.