Forever & Always

22.

I'm the most impatient person in the universe.

We have been trying to get pregnant for two months but no my stupid body is stupid.

It is four days before Thanksgiving and Mason is at a meeting. Turns out I have PTSD which is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

You know what pissed me off?

Alyssa and Megan are pregnant.

But not me.

I just can't.

My period is so irregular. I skipped last month and then it started again this month and it's so light and my cramps are excruciating.

Thanksgiving is in four days.

I made a doctor's appointment because I'm paranoid. Mason doesn't know about it. I haven't told him.

The truth is that we never use protection. We only did the first few times. I'm not on the pill either and once we got engaged in our early twenties I stopped taking the morning after pill because I'm forgetful.

I never got pregnant.

So it's technically been two years, minus six months because three of them Mason spent away from me with the doors locked because he thought I cheated with Cole and obviously the other three I was locked in a basement.

I get dressed in a white tank top, a tan sweater, and jeans. I add my Uggs and I put my hair up in a messy bun and I head off to the doctors.

****

To say I'm pissed that Mason is home when I get home is an understatement.

I'm furious.

Not at him, but because I didn't have time to hide.

I go in the garage door and walk slowly into the living room. He looks at me and frowns, and he shuts off the TV, standing up.

"Where were you?" he asks. I shrug and walk into the kitchen and get a beer from the fridge. "I wouldn't drink..." he starts scratching the back of his neck. "Just in case."

I take the top off with the bottle opener and I drink.

"Melody. Talk to me."

I put the bottle down on the counter and sigh.

Alcohol is not the answer, Melody.

I put the beer in the fridge.

"I'm broken, Mason." I say.

"Broken?" he repeats. "What does that mean?"

"It means I'm broken. I'm sterile. I'll never be pregnant."

We stare at each other for the longest time.

"So..." he trails off. "The kid is off then?" he sounds sad. Tears burn in my eyes.

"I had three miscarriages." I whisper. His eyes lock on mine again.

"What?" he whispers.

"In the last year and a half, I was pregnant three times without knowing and I had a miscarriage three times without knowing."

"But you get your period..." he looks so confused.

"I still ovulate." I mutter. "Which sucks. The whole point of the whole period thing is to tell me I'm not pregnant, but I fucking know. I can't ever be pregnant."

"Is that where you went? The doctor?"

I nod.

"I mean...I'm not one hundred percent sterile, but if I do get pregnant, it'll probably end in miscarriage, stillbirth, or pre-maturity."