Chapter 20 Fertility Cycle #2
Thursday morning, Zef emerged from their room for the first time. Hair greasy, bags under their eyes, they shuffled out in a pair of sweats and a large hoodie. They looked haggard and exhausted, and Bryce wanted to draw them into his lap and hold them.
“Hey, Zef,” he said as he screwed his to-go mug closed.
They grunted wordlessly in response.
“Do you need anything? Can I—”
They shook their head.
“Do you need me to stay home today?”
Another head shake.
“Okay. Text or call if you need anything.”
As he pulled on his boots, the air pressure shifted behind him, and he straightened.
Before he could turn around, a weight pressed to his shoulder blade.
Zef’s forehead. He froze in place, barely allowing himself to breathe as they sighed, turning their head until their cheek took their forehead’s place.
They didn’t touch him any other way, simply their cheek resting on his shoulder, but it set him alight. Because they were seeking comfort in him. They trusted him enough to feel safe initiating this touch with him. Heck, it made his heart take flight, swooping through his chest and belly.
Without a word, they inhaled deeply, then exhaled in a rush. Then they were gone, shuffling back to their bedroom. Bryce didn’t turn around until their door clicked shut.
That evening, Bryce filled a vase with water and settled the bouquet of flowers he’d bought in it.
He’d spent his commute and his lunch break researching Mantodean courting rituals.
Frustratingly, there was very little online because Mantodeas were so close-lipped about such things.
But he finally found a blog about a Mantodea and a Scorpia couple, and the Scorpia outlined several courting rules they had followed when wooing their partner.
Flowers were a thing, but not just any flowers. Specific flowers at specific times, preferably in the Mantodea’s favorite color. To convey support and well-wishes in times of struggle, he was to give a wide-petalled flower with black stamens and dark blue stems. He chose a pink bouquet, of course.
He had bookmarked the blog and would be doing intensive research over the weekend.
Once Zef was feeling better, he was going to officially request a courtship, which required a different specific flower, a personal gift tailored to the Mantodea’s interests, and, intimidatingly, a portfolio of sorts, outlining Bryce’s financial situation and five-year plan.
Mantodeas were nothing if not pragmatic.
“Bryce,” Zef called from their room, and he set down his phone and fork, leaving his dinner on the table as he crossed the kitchen.
“I’m here,” he said as he stopped at their door.
“Will you do me a favor?” they asked.
“Of course, darlin’. What do you need?”
There was a pregnant pause followed by, “Please come in.”
Turning the handle, Bryce pushed the door open and peeked inside.
It was dimly lit, their bedside lamp having been placed on the ground to keep their bed in shadow.
The air was thick with Zef’s natural scent of tea leaves and homemade soap, but there was a musty, sour layer underneath, like old, sweaty socks.
They lay curled into a ball amidst tangled sheets, wearing nothing but a camisole and a pair of sleep shorts. Their arms glistened with sweat in the dull lamplight, and their breathing was labored. Ovulation was over. This was the painful part.
“Hey, baby,” he said, wincing at the endearment.
Zef didn’t seem to notice. They blinked glassy eyes at him before they pointed to their dresser with a trembling hand. “Top drawer,” they croaked. “Needs hot water.”
Following their directions, Bryce sifted through Zef’s undergarments until he found what resembled a hot water bottle. Right. For the cramps.
“I’ll be right back,” he promised.
He filled it with hot water as quickly as he could and returned to Zef’s bedside.
They took it from him and hugged it to their belly with their lower arms, face tight with discomfort.
Long, green legs ended in their barbed, ant-like feet, and their camisole had ridden up to reveal a strip of their peridot belly.
Their dragonfly-like wings fluttered and flared absently behind their back, and Bryce saw the joints where they connected to their spine for the first time.
On one hand, he felt guilty for seeing them this way, like they were being forced to share this vulnerability with him because they simply had no other choice.
On the other, he was so honored that they were allowing this at all.
He hoped they wouldn’t regret it when this was over and their head cleared.
“Can I do anything else for you? You hungry?”
They shook their head, face half-hidden in their pillow.
“You need your blanket?”
With an almost alarmed trill, they shook their head harder. “Skin’s too sensitive.”
Their use of a contraction shocked Bryce more than seeing them half-naked, and he withdrew the hand hovering over their shoulder. “Okay. You sure I can’t do anything else?”
One bloodshot eye opened. “Will you read to me?”
“Of course, sweetheart. What do you want me to read?”
“Something interesting,” they said, and he smiled.
After gathering a few books, fiction and nonfiction alike, Bryce hunkered down on the ground beside the lamp, back to the side of their bed.
Zef scooted closer, still curled in the fetal position, so they could see over his shoulder.
He chose an anatomy book with diagrams first, so they had something to look at while he read.
He read about the bovine digestive track, then the cardiovascular system. He skipped the reproductive organs, not wanting to remind Zef of their current state. Expounding on the text, Bryce told them personal stories of treating cows, sheep, and goats.
“I can treat most any animal,” he said, “but I’m specialized in farm animals, given I live in a rural area.”
“I liked the video you sent of the baby goats,” they murmured. “When they were playing and jumping around.”
“When you visit in July, there might be a few babies left, but most will be grown.”
“Read more,” they said, so he did.
He read until his voice went hoarse, and then kept reading.
Zef drifted in and out of sleep, waking every time the bottle had cooled and Bryce needed to refill it.
They spent the next few days that way, Bryce on the floor beside their bed, reading or talking while they listened.
At some point, one of Zef’s fingers had started tracing barely-there designs over the back of Bryce’s neck.
It sparked goosebumps, but they didn’t stop.
Late Saturday, the end of their cycle approached, and their discomfort turned to genuine pain as their cramps amped up. They whimpered and shifted fitfully on the mattress, and Bryce set aside his book, a fictional Western romance, and spun from his butt to his knees.
“I think it’s time to get you to the bathroom,” he said, and Zef shook their head. “Zef, it’s gonna happen whether you want it to or not. Let me run you a hot bath.”
“I hate it,” they said as a tear snaked down their cheek. “I hate it, Bryce.”
“I know, baby. I’m sorry.” He smoothed their greasy hair with a light touch. “But let’s just get through it, okay? I’m gonna fill the tub.”
With a resigned nod, they buried their face in their pillow, breath hitching on a sob.
Once the water was hot, he stoppered the drain and headed back to the bedroom. Zef was already struggling to sit up, the right strap of their camisole slumping over their shoulder. Their shorts had ridden up higher on their thighs, and the fabric between their legs was splotched dark purple.
Ignoring the blood, Bryce offered his hands, palms up. “Need help?”
Their top hands shook as they came to rest in his, but before they could try to stand, another wave of pain rolled over them. They yelped, curling on themself as their wings flared and rattled furiously.
“Shit,” they cursed through clenched teeth. “It is happening quicker than expected.”
“Can I carry you?” he asked, and they whimpered. “Just to the bath. I won’t if you don’t want me to, but—”
“Yes. Okay, fine. Yes.” They nodded, and Bryce moved, wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible for their sake.
They were ramrod stiff as he hooked one arm across their back but under their wings, the other under their knees, and easily scooped them up.
Light and fragile, they fit perfectly, but discomfort radiated from them like heat off asphalt.
He’d dreamt of holding them this way, but not like this.
His heart cracked down the middle as he quickly, but carefully, carried them into the bathroom.
“You’re safe,” he whispered over and over again as their wings batted against his arm. “It’s just me. You’re safe, sweetheart.”
Not wanting to waste time or risk their modesty, he simply set them in the tub still in their clothes, and they sank into the water without complaint. The fabric clung to their body, but Bryce looked away, busying himself with retrieving their robe and a clean towel.
Curled on their side once more, they gripped the edge of the tub and watched him, their knuckles bleaching. “This part is unpleasant,” they said. “I do not want you to see.”
“I don’t mind blood,” he said, trying for levity as he made a scooping motion with his hand. “Arm inside a sheep’s vagina, remember?”
They cracked a small smile. “Then, for my sake. For my dignity.”
“Zef,” he sighed their name.
“Please,” they whispered.
“Okay. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
He didn’t fully shut the door, leaving it open a crack so he could easily re-enter if the need arose.
Since the sheets were soaked in sweat and spotted in blood, he stripped their bed and remade it with clean bedding.
He opened the window wide to let in some fresh air as he gathered the discarded laundry from the past week and shoved a load into the washer.
Back in their room, he wiped down the headboard and the side table, settling the lamp back on top.
Zef whimpered in the bathroom, and water sloshed.
He thought of their dignity and retrieved the vacuum.
He swept their carpet longer than necessary, wanting to offer them a noise shield so they could make sounds without worry.
He swept the living room next, then the hallway.
Leaving the vacuum in his room for later, he hurried back to their room and shut their window, so it didn’t get too cold as the shower sputtered to life in the bathroom.
They showered for a long time, and Bryce reheated the soup Toni had brought, portioning two bowls.
By the time the shower shut off, Bryce had finished his soup, and he brought the tray holding Zef’s soup, fresh tea, a glass of ice water, and the bouquet of flowers he had bought into the bedroom.
He set the tray on the desk, then moved the vase to the side table beside the lamp.
The tea went beside the flowers, and he left the soup and water cup on the tray.
The bathroom door opened, and Zef stepped out, wrapped in their fluffy robe, hair washed and still dripping. They looked more tired than Bryce had ever seen them, but the pained lines in their face were gone. Meeting his gaze, they smiled wearily.
“I feel better now,” they said, and Bryce smiled back.
“Good. I brought some soup.”
Studying their room, the vacuum lines in the carpet, the fresh bedding, they swallowed thickly. “You honor me with your service.”
“Like I said, I like taking care of people.”
“I feel very taken care of.” They blinked rapidly, fighting tears, but one leaked out when their gaze fell on the flowers. With a click in the back of their throat, they traced the pink petals reverently. “Beautiful.”
“Agreed,” Bryce said, tracking the tear on their cheek as the lamplight played over their soft features. “How’s your pain?”
“Little cramps now,” they said, almost dismissively. “I will be sore for a few days, but the worst is behind us.”
As they crawled into bed, their robe parted, showing leg all the way to their hip, and Bryce inhaled sharply and looked away. He picked up the tray and brought it to them, setting it on their lap once they were situated under their blanket.
“Toni?” they asked, and Bryce nodded. “I must call and thank him.”
“Tad’s been blowing up my phone,” he said as Zef took a sip of the soup. “She said you told her not to come, so it was my job to report back to her every hour or else she was going to storm in anyway.”
Their antennas wriggled. “I am very loved.”
“You are,” he agreed as he lowered himself to sit at the edge of their bed. They trilled, lower hands fisting in their bedsheets, and he immediately stood back up. “Sorry.”
“No, you… it is a Mantodean thing,” they said like an apology.
“No problem.”
“Will you stay with me? For a little while longer?” they asked, and Bryce’s chest swelled.
“I’d like that.” He hunkered back down to the floor beside the bed and picked up the Western romance book. “Shall I keep reading?”
Tucking a wet chunk of hair behind their ear, Zef smiled shyly and nodded. “Yes, please.”
He read as they ate their soup and nursed their tea.
When they’d finished, Bryce moved the tray to the floor, then turned the page and kept reading.
They curled up on their side, so close to the edge of the bed their knee rested against the back of his shoulder and one hand blanketed the nape of his neck.
Even after they’d fallen asleep, their hand remained, and Bryce soared.