Today's Heartache (Peterick)

Part 2: Thinking Too Much/Don't Help Me

Patrick's POV:

The clinic was cold and unwelcoming. I'd had some tea and toast that morning to calm my nerves, but the contents in my stomach seemed to only make things worse. They performed tests on me to release to Elisa and her husband, but since we were doing it without George's consent Elisa had denied the release of the information to them, saying that she trusted that I was fit enough to give them what they wanted. It didn't settle well with me, doing it all under the table without her husband's knowledge, but if this simple gesture meant that their marriage would be saved I was willing to try. They asked me what magazine I preferred, and I knew what they meant.

It was just that the ones being offered were all of women, promiscuous women in barely anything but skimpy bikinis and revealing lingerie. Embarrassed to ask for something more my taste, I grabbed the first one off the stack and walked into the private room they had directed for me to go.

"Try to shoot into the cup," they said, handing me a funnel to use with it.
I didn't touch myself often. The practice had become something that didn't interest me much anymore since I had Frank, who was always eager to take care of my needs as he was naturally very comfortable with all things sexual.

I sat there in a chair in the middle of a pristine, white room and opened the magazine to see if maybe I could become aroused with it. My hand reached into my pants and tried to stroke my groin to life, but after a few minutes I gave up. I resorted to closing my eyes and trying to think about my boyfriend. Frank was beautiful, always had been since I met him. His soft, feminine facial features at the peak of orgasm flashed into my mind and was followed by the sleeves of ink that traveled up his arms.

These tattoos were different, though, not like the ones I'd memorized over the years. The designs were scattered through my mind until I found them again on a body that didn't match Frank's. I knew who it was, and yet, I couldn't stop myself from continuing to think to about him, about our first time. He was on top, and it was like I could feel every inch of him all over again. Heat pooled into the pit of my stomach as I continued to pleasure myself to the image of a man I no longer knew.

My brain was screaming it at me now. The moments I thought I'd forgotten were shoved at me aggressive and sweaty and entirely too missed. I came immediately, shame falling upon me. He would never be gone from my thoughts no matter how hard I tried to push him away, and I hated it. I sealed up the cup and handed it to the nurse outside.

"The process will take about three to five days as we monitor the fertilized eggs before embryo transfer is done," she told me.
"O-oh, okay. Erm-thanks?"
I hurried back to my car after the awkward encounter and drove back home to shower and get ready to visit Frank. It wasn't that big of a deal, but I always seemed to fixate on the little things nowadays. I rehearsed what I was going to say to him in the mirror as I buttoned my shirt and combed my hair.

To make the news a bit less unbearable for him, I stopped at a grocery store on the way over and picked up a bouquet of flowers. Flowers always made things better between us.
"I love how nice you clean up. It makes me look like a slob," Frank said, taking the flowers from me and giving me a kiss on the cheek, "I ordered us some take-out."
It wasn't that I hated eating the same things, but we always had take-out.

Frank never liked to cook much and bought food prepared or settled for something from a restaurant. It made me miss the home-cooked meals by someone long gone. We sat on his couch to eat while we watched a game of hockey. I never understood what the appeal of the sport was, but Frank liked it, so I liked it too. He placed our empty boxes on the coffee table and started kissing my neck and sliding his hands up my shirt.

I would've been more than glad to engage in something sexual that night, but we had things to discuss, and I wasn't going to let him distract me from the issue.
"We need to talk about the moving situation," I said.
"What about it?"
"I'm not ready for that kind of commitment yet. I wouldn't want to disappoint you if the move doesn't go well for me mentally."