Chapter 26 Skylar #2
All right. He asked for it. “I broke up with him after he said our relationship would never be completely fulfilling because I wouldn’t let him go bare. According to him, that was the ultimate culmination of good sex. Of a good relationship.”
“Oh.” Pike clears his throat. “Uh…yeah. I guess some people like that. But…not…you?” He refuses to meet my eyes. “Or…he wouldn’t test?”
I almost laugh at his discomfort, but it’s weird to discuss it out loud. Why do I need to feel ashamed, though? If he does any digging, he could find my posts about this in our support group.
“I got IIH after starting birth control pills, remember? I can’t use any hormone-based birth control.
Owen was offended on a deep level that I wouldn’t get a copper IUD for him.
” At Pike’s blank expression, I add, “That one doesn’t use hormones.
But I did have it, once, and it gave me other side effects, so it didn’t work for me.
It’s gross I have to put my body at risk while he refuses to wrap it up. ”
“Well…” he says weakly. He probably hasn’t considered a scenario like this before. Most guys assume women will handle birth control eventually. “I’m glad you dumped Owen.”
“I should’ve broken up with him sooner. We had other irreconcilable differences.”
“Are they as graphic as the last one?” He laughs at the face I make. “Kidding. You do need to be on the same page about that kind of stuff, and it’s shitty he didn’t care how it affected your health. Any other boyfriends?”
“You’re curious tonight.”
He waits, his dark lashes fanning his cheeks like he has all the time in the world.
“There were two others since I got sick,” I say. “None as serious as Owen. I realized it’s easier to keep things light, you know? Keep it sexy, be done with it. That way, I can decide what I feel up for. No one’s annoyed or disappointed.”
“Disappointed.” His brown eyes fill with understanding. “Like your mom?”
“Like everyone. Most friends don’t stick around when you get sick, and it’s even worse with men in relationships.
” How can I break this down? “Men, for the most part, run from relationships when a woman gets sick. They’re too selfish.
Maybe not in bed, some of them,” I concede.
“That’s a statistical fact, before you get offended. ”
“Not offended.”
“Most men who promise ‘in sickness and in health’ don’t have any idea what that actually means. They imagine their wife getting sick at, like, sixty. They don’t sign up for illness to ruin their honeymoon or prevent them from having kids.”
“Is that it? You can’t have kids?”
I scoff even though my heart pinches. “It’s not it. I can have kids if I can be off meds long enough to not harm the baby.” And as long as my pressure doesn’t rise exponentially during pregnancy, which can happen. “I don’t know if I should have kids, though.”
I shouldn’t think it, but I do. If Pike has developed feelings, this could make him disqualify me as someone he could have a future with. Might as well rip off the bandage.
“Among other things, Owen implied I’d be a bad mother. And…I don’t know, maybe he had a point.”
“Owen sounds like an asshole. Why would he have a point?”
“I don’t know if I could take care of a child.
How will I handle a wailing newborn when I can barely stand someone talking too loud?
How can I take care of a child when I need to spend so much time in a dark room?
How can I keep up with a child when some days I can’t stand without growing faint?
I’ve probably internalized all of this because of eugenics, but I’m also scared.
I don’t see my experience reflected much in society, so it’s hard to picture making it work. ”
“What if you have someone else to help out?” Pike asks. “Like if you find the right person to be the second parent?”
“The right person.” I shake my head sadly.
“How can you know someone’s the right person?
How do you know you’ll feel the same way in ten years when your wife is in and out of the hospital every few months or unable to have kids or you’re not getting as much sex as you thought you would?
” I hold up a hand. “Rhetorical. But when you’re sick, you have to know how your partner will respond to those scenarios.
It’s too draining to invest in someone else like that when you barely have enough energy for yourself. I know you get that with your pain.”
He stays quiet, and the weight of his gaze urges me to keep sharing.
“Sometimes I think about this big future I envisioned. Not with Owen, necessarily. But I did think my life would go a certain way. I want a family. But when I look in the group…”
“All you see are the horror stories,” Pike finishes.
“There are good stories too. There are resources for disabled parents.”
“But you also hear about the men who leave. I’ve seen it, and I’ve only been in the group a couple months.”
I’ve seen much more than that. I’ve seen disabled women abused, CPS called on them for simply being deemed “unfit,” and ex-husbands who take their kids away because the courts usually side with the nondisabled parent.
“And you’ve experienced them leaving firsthand,” Pike says softly.
“I told you, I dumped Owen.” But my eyes sting.
“My dad left my mom long before he physically walked away. She knew he was cheating on her. He mentally checked out, from me as well, and it broke my heart. Mom and I bonded a lot over him. She was always easy to talk to.” He sighs. “You know, before.”
“Sorry. I don’t know why I’m getting so emotional.” I wipe my face. “Devlin told me Jen is pregnant again, and it’s bringing up a lot of feelings I’ve tried to repress about spending most of my twenties sick, and what that means for my future.”
“This kind of stuff is why I journal. It’s hard to talk about.” His expression pinches. “I’ve had sad thoughts about kids too.”
“Yeah?”
“No one expects to compete past a certain age. But I still expected to be on the slopes. I thought I’d teach my kids to snowboard. Never thought I’d be the dad who sits in the lodge.”
“Hey. You sold me on the whole lodge thing in Whistler.”
He shifts onto his back. This isn’t a date, but it feels like one. Most days with Pike feel like dates, no matter what we’re doing. He has a way of making even the mundane brighter.
“I hope I didn’t minimize your feelings about being a mom,” he says. “Losing snowboarding isn’t the same.”
“We can both mourn the things we’ve lost. It’s not a competition.”
His eyes search me. “You deserve to be with someone who loves you for more than your ability to perform at a certain level.”
I know that now. But reconciling what I deserve with reality is another story. “Do you believe that too?” I ask.
“I live with Luis. He tells me every day.”
“Good.”
“Also? Owen is a piece of shit. Just wear a condom? My guy…”
I grin and flip onto my side, only to find Pike staring at me with unexpected tenderness.
“I wish I was there. Next to you.”
My heart does all sorts of weird things. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”
“It’s been strange not having you in my bed. Not having you around, period.”
“I’m sure you don’t miss my noise machine,” I joke, but Pike breezes past it.
“I’d take it if it meant you were here.”
We lie there staring at each other. For too long. But the silence isn’t uncomfortable. None of this intensity is.
“I wish you were here too,” I finally confess.
“What would you do if I were?”
A hot flame licks down my spine. Not the response I was expecting. Especially not in that suddenly husky voice.
I swallow. “Would you still be shirtless?”
“Depends if you are.”
His words shoot straight between my legs. “Don’t tease me, Pike.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re…you’re not?”
He wets his lips. “That scenario is all I can think about lately. Whistler is all I can think about.”
“But…you said—”
“I’ve said a lot of things I regret. When you’re back in Rochester for more than a night, I intend to rectify that.”
Oh my God?? Rectify suddenly takes on a host of new meanings when Pike says it like that.
But what would that mean for us, if we made things physical? Much as I want him, I’m not sure I’d be satisfied with only physical stuff anymore. We’ve gotten to know each other so much better since Whistler. We talk every day.
“It might be a few weeks before I get that kind of break.”
“I can wait,” he says. “I don’t want to, but you’re worth it.”