Robert released her long enough to get her a tissue. Choking back new tears, she blew her nose. Now she felt embarrassed on top of her anger and her grief. In a shaky voice she admitted to Robert that she knew she was to blame for their infertility.
“I don’t care if we don’t have children,” Robert said, hoping to soothe her.
“It’s not the end of the world.”
Marissa eyed him warily.
“I don’t believe you,” she said.
“You’ve always wanted children. You told me so. And since I know all this is my fault, why don’t you be honest about your feelings. I could deal with honesty better than your lying to me.
Tell me that you’re angry.”
“I’m disappointed but I’m not angry,” Robert said. He looked at Marissa. Marissa stared back at him.
“Well, maybe there have been a few moments,” he confessed.
“Look what I’ve done to your clean shirt,” Marissa said.
Robert glanced down at his chest. There were patches of dampness from Marissa’s tears both on his shirt and on his half-tied tie. Robert took a deep breath.
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll put on another.” He quickly pulled off the shirt and tie and threw them into the laundry basket.
Gazing at her red and swollen eyes in the mirror, Marissa had a hopeless feeling about the task of making herself presentable.
She slipped into the shower.
Fifteen minutes later Marissa felt significantly calmer, as if the hot water and suds had cleansed her mind as well as her body. As she dried her hair, she returned to the bedroom to find Robert just about ready.
“I’m sorry I got so hysterical,” she said.
“I just can’t help it.
Lately all I ever seem to do is overreact. I shouldn’t have gone off the deep end just because you don’t feel like going to the clinic for the umpteenth time.”
“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” said Robert.
“I’m sorry for picking such an idiotic way of expressing my frustrations about this whole experience. While you were showering, I changed my mind. I’ll come with you to the clinic after all. I already called the office to arrange it.”
For what seemed like the first time in weeks, Marissa felt her spirits rise.
“Thank you,” she said. She was tempted to take Robert in her arms, but something held her back. She wondered if she was afraid he might somehow reject her. She was hardly looking her best. She knew that their relationship had been changing through the course of their infertility therapy. And like her figure, the changes hadn’t been for the better. Marissa sighed.
“Sometimes I think this infertility treatment is just too much to bear, Don’t get me wrong; I have no fonder wish than to have our baby. But I’ve been feeling the stress of it every waking moment of every day. And I know it hasn’t been much easier for you.”
With panties and a bra in hand, Marissa went into her closet.
While she dressed, she called out to Robert. Sometimes recently it seemed easier to talk to him without meeting his eyes.
“I’ve only told a few people about our problem, and only in very general terms. I’ve just said we’re trying to get me pregnant.
Everyone I tell feels compelled to give me unsolicited advice.
“Relax,” they say.
“Take a vacation.” The next person who tells me that, I’m going to tell the truth. No amount of relaxing will help me because I’ve got fallopian tubes that are sealed shut like hopelessly clogged drains.”
Robert didn’t say anything in response, so Marissa went to the door of her closet and looked into the bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed putting on his shoes.
“The other person who is bugging me is your mother,” Marissa said.
Robert looked up.
“What does my mother have to do with this?”
“Simply that she feels obligated every time we get together to tell me it’s time for us to have children. If she says that to me once more, I’m going to tell her the truth as well. In fact, why don’t you tell her yourself so that she and I can avoid a confrontation.