24. Endometriosis is a Bitch
TWENTY-FOUR
ENDOMETRIOSIS IS A BITCH
? Gravity - Sara Bareilles
NOAH
Clio called in sick.
I shouldn’t care.
Why do I care?
She’s up two flights of stairs, but it might as well be another planet for how much I miss her. She’s chipping away at my sanity with each day that passes.
I have to resist the urge to check in on her.
She’s a grown woman.
I’m sure she’s fine.
The clock on the wall ticks ominously, counting down the agonizing seconds she’s not here with me, and my will collapses. I pull out my phone, fingers furiously tapping out a text before deleting it again.
Hey.
Delete.
Are you ok?
Delete.
Do you need anything?
Delete.
“Just go,” Gwen says on an exasperated sigh. “I’ll cover the walk-ins.”
I toss my phone onto the desk and lean back in my chair, folding my hands over my stomach. “I’m fine.”
“Bullshit. You’re actually pissing me the fuck off.” She points to the door. “Go.”
My footsteps echo off the high ceilings as I head for the stairwell, pausing to glare at Gwen. “I could fire you.”
“You won’t.”
I take the stairs two at a time and knock on Clio’s apartment door. Silence greets me, so I knock harder. As the seconds tick by, my worry takes on a life of its own, like icy tendrils coiling around me, threatening to suffocate me.
Fuck it.
I reach into my pocket and produce a set of keys. The lock clicks, and I shove through the door with determined strides.
“Clio,” I bellow.
When she doesn’t answer, I head to her room and rap my knuckles on the door, causing it to crack open. I peer through the opening, and my concern morphs into dread.
The curtains are drawn, casting the entire room in darkness. It’s not like Clio to shut out the sunlight. As I stride farther into the room, movement catches in my peripheral vision, and my gaze lands on a crumpled ball in the middle of the bed.
I sink onto the side of the mattress and turn on the lamp that sits on her nightstand. Pressing my hand to the mass of blankets, I whisper, “Clio. Baby. I’m here.”
My gentle tone defies the terrifying mix of emotions that have taken root in the pit of my stomach.
One of the blankets lowers, and Clio’s face comes into view, pale and lifeless. Completely devoid of her usual vibrance. “Noah?” she croaks out.
“Did I wake you?” I press the back of my hand to her forehead, then her cheek. She’s warm, but it’s a low-grade fever at most.
She nods.
“What’s going on? Are you sick”
“No… Yes… It’s complicated.”
“Uncomplicate it for me, princess.”
“I started my period. Only for me it’s not just a period. It’s a lot of pain, exhaustion, and more pain. Among other things.” She rolls to face me, pulling the blanket up to her chin. “I have endometriosis. I think I forgot to take my meds a couple of times this month and now I’m paying for it.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Find me a new uterus.”
“All out of those, I’m afraid.” I offer her a small smile, running my thumb along her cheekbone. “How about I run you a warm bath? Will that help?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“You’re always taking care of everyone. Just this once, let someone else take care of you.”
Something flickers in those irises that I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time trying to capture on paper. I failed time and time again because nothing could ever compare to the real thing.
“Ok.”
“Stay here.” I bend and press a kiss to her forehead.
In the bathroom, I kneel next to the clawfoot tub and run the water to a comfortable temperature—warm enough to ease her pain but not so hot that it might burn her skin.
I search the cabinets, find a jar of Epsom salts and a bottle of bubble bath, and add a moderate amount of each under the running water until a floral scent permeates the air around me.
When I return to her room, Clio’s exactly where I left her. Her face is scrunched in pain. I don’t hesitate for a second, scooping her into my arms, and she lets out a high-pitched squeak.
“What are you doing?”
“Bath’s ready.”
“I can walk.”
I stride into the bathroom and deposit her on the rug. “Let’s make a deal.” I grip each side of her blanket and pull it off her shoulders. “For the next twenty-four hours, you’ll let me take care of you.”
She opens her mouth.
I press my finger to her lips. “No fighting. No exceptions.”
She narrows her gaze.
I hold out my hand, palm up. “Please.”
CLIO
Noah Weston just said please with such earnestness it left me awestruck. All of my carefully honed instincts are compelling me to fight this, but I’m too tired.
“Ok.” My palm fits perfectly in his, like a puzzle piece finally finding its home. He guides me over to the bathtub, where rose-scented steam is rising from the water.
He even thought to use my bath salts.
“Arms up.” His knuckles brush my belly as he lifts my shirt over my head. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen already, so that part doesn’t bother me, but when he reaches for my sleep shorts, my hands snap to his.
Oanic flashes in his eyes. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
“No. I’m ok. It’s just… there’s always a lot of blood.”
So much so that I’ve started wearing adult diapers because it’s easier to control. Tears sting my eyes, and I stare at my feet. The last thing I want is for Noah to see me in a fucking diaper. Soft hands cradle my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “I’m not scared of blood, Clio.”
I get the feeling he won’t let this go if I don’t tell him the whole truth.
“It’s not just that. I wear diapers. It’s not sexy. I just… I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“I couldn’t care less what you’re wearing under your pajamas. You could be hiding another pair of your ridiculous strawberry panties under there, and I would still stay. I’m here for you.”
“Rude. Those are my favorite.”
“I like them better on the floor. Now stop arguing and let me help you. The water’s getting cold.”
Noah hooks his fingers into the sides of my shorts and slides them down my legs, taking the blood-soaked underwear with them.
My cheeks heat, and I pinch my eyes shut against the wave of embarrassment.
Noah just takes my hand and holds it while I lower myself into the tub. The warm water rises to encompass me, and I sink back against the ledge, gazing up at him as my bottom lip trembles. “Thank you.”
He nods once, picks up the underwear, tosses them in the trash, and discards the rest of my clothes in the laundry basket. No hesitation, no judgement.
Just when I think he’s going to leave me to my own devices, he kneels at my side with a washcloth in hand, squeezing a quarter-size dollop of body wash onto the fabric.
His touch is gentle but deliberate as he carefully washes one arm, trails across my chest and neck before gliding down the other arm. “Is this ok?”
I close my eyes and nod. No one’s ever taken care of me like this. My emotions threaten to spill out of me as my pain begins to ease, replaced by an altogether different ache—more dangerous and potent than the physical one.
“Spread your legs for me, baby.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat as his hand dips beneath the water, stroking lightly up my calf, to my thighs, then he’s there, wiping the blood from between my legs.
Another wave of embarrassment tries to pull me under, but I refuse to let it.
He wrings out the cloth and lays it over the side of the tub.
“Turn around for me so I can wash your hair.”
“It’s fine. I can just—”
“You agreed. Twenty-four hours.”
He pulls the plug to let out some of the tepid water, then turns on the tap, dipping his hand beneath the stream to test the temperature. Once he’s satisfied, he pulls the lever to activate the handheld showerhead.
“Lie your head back and close your eyes.”
His gentle fingers run through the strands, massaging my scalp as the water cascades from my forehead down the length of my hair.
A shiver rolls through me at the delicious sensation.
The water stops, and he repeats the process, lathering my orange blossom shampoo into the roots before rinsing.
By the time he’s done with the conditioner, I’m boneless.
Half an hour later, I’m dressed in my comfiest pjs with my head on his lap, my menstruation crustacean pressed to my lower belly by a large palm that doesn’t belong to me, and my favorite blanket draped over my body.
I didn’t have to lift a finger, and with each thoughtful step, I could feel my walls crumbling, the foundation shaking beneath my feet.
“Noah?”
“Yeah?”
“Why are you here?”
“Because you need me.” His voice is calm and decisive. “And because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”