Leaps and landings

3

Odette stretched herself out across her bed, the light sheet she often used as a blanket twisted and wrapped around her hip and thigh, taking up almost the entire bed. Glimpses of the past night returned to her with the realisation that she hadn't slept that well in ages. The man responsible for that was nowhere in sight, but that she had expected, and in some way she even appreciated not having to deal with the 'morning after' awkwardness.

It was only after her feet touched the floor, when she noted the unusual placement for her issue of the Financial Times on the bedside table and the number scribbled down on the edge. She smiled for a second - at least the guy was polite, unlike many of the guys in her past, and there had been quite a few. She snapped a picture of the number, just in case the cleaning maid were to toss it, but she really had no real urgent aim of calling him. She had enough on her plate.

Odette showered, dried herself off, moisturized her skin and brushed her hair, allowing it to dry naturally. Opening her bathroom cabinet, she took her complex B vitamin, folic acid, along with Q10 and vitamin E and a few drops of vitamin D in oil form. Unlike her mother, who clearly preferred the nip-tuck verison of aging, she wasn't like that. Sure, she dyed the grey out of her hair, spent a small fortune on supplements, organic smoothie powders and lotions, but this way she at least felt like she was doing it the natural way. She really wasn't bothered by the shallow crows-feet in the corner of her eyes, it was rather the state of her ovaries that she was worried about. And despite getting a clean bill of health from the clinic in January, she still knew that the odds of getting pregnant for a woman above the age of 35 was almost half of that of a twenty-something, plus even lower if doing it by the IUI. While she had the facts, she had still had high hopes for the first try, and the failed attempt had left her a little discouraged. Maybe it was already too late? And maybe it was not meant to be?

Odette was in no hurry to go anywhere that morning, hence she simply pulled on a comfortable bamboo wrap dress, she often wore at home, and headed downstairs for breakfast.

"Good morning," she greeted Rory who was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the New York Times, having slept late after her early morning dessert feast, now sipping on a fruit smoothie of some sort.

"Hi," she replied.

"How's your hand?" Odette asked with concern, glancing over her hand and arm, covered almost up to her elbow in a gauze. Odette began making herself a banana blueberry spirulina smoothie bowl, one of her favourites.

"It's painful, but they said that I'll probably be fine. I just need to go in every couple of days to change the dressing and see if the anti-inflammatory meds are enough. Showering is going to be tricky," Rory noted.

"Well, tell me if you need my help," she offered. It was not that they were exceptionally close, but as she was at home, mosty upstairs checking on her stocks, reading and trying to keep her brain fresh by listening to some professional podcasts, she was available to help her when Logan wasn't around.

"I should be fine, tomorrow is the weekend already," Rory replied.

Odette blendered her smoothie, and poured it into her bowl, adding a sprinkle of pumpkin seeds and some dried strawberries for color. She liked eating with her eyes.

"Do you want some coffee?" Odette offered putting the water on the meanwhile.

"I just had some coffee earlier," Rory replied, having just gone cold turkey on caffeine that morning because she'd gotten a positive pregnancy test at the ER the night before. It was too early, and she was too scared to really tell people, having already lost one baby early on just months ago.

"Well, I hope it heals fast. Burns suck," she replied, beginning to wonder if she'd ever in the couple of month's she'd known Rory, heard her refuse coffee before.