“And?”
“And maybe an extra bedroom or two.”
“More room?”
“For when we have friends over to stay, or when there are more people around. We might get to babysit Hannah at some point, you know. And so on…” She trails off and shifts in my arms.
“And so on?”
She says nothing and I poke her. “Come on, what do you mean by and so on?”
“This conversation usually freaks men out, so let’s not go there.”
“W-which conversation?” But I know which one she means as my heart is racing at the mere thought of having it with her. I can’t do this.
“The baby conversation. Whether and when you want some and all that jazz a woman needs to think about before her uterus shrivels up and dies.”
“G-Georgiana—” My words splinter, and I cuss in my head. “I-I-I—” I can’t finish the sentence. Inside me, all the heartache of past relationships, combined with the fact that what I have is hereditary, makes the words glue together in my mouth, unable to come out. If she wants children, I’m going to have to walk away.
“I’m twenty-four, and to think when my mom was this age, I was already five years old. I have time, but honestly, I’d love to have kids while I’m younger. I don’t want to wait until I’m somewhere work-wise and thirty-eight and then have to go for fertility treatment and all that.”
I choose to say nothing, merely holding on to her while I can, bleeding inside from that wound that never really healed.
“Ray?” Georgiana perches on her elbow to look at me. “Are you okay?”
Her fingertips are in my beard as she cups my face, the worry in her eyes eating me.
I shake my head. “N-no k-kids. With me. No.”
Georgiana’s eyes go wide and her hand stills. “Why?”
“Dyslexia, d-dysgraphia… They’re he-he-hereditary. My life, messed up for it. Do this to a child, I can’t.” Do this to your child, I can even less.
I turn my face away from her and drop my arm from her body. I reach for my T-shirt and try to sit up, but her hand is on my chest, applying pressure.
“Wait. Don’t say that. Please.” Her eyes search mine and when I look away, she sighs. “Raiden, you fell through the cracks of that accident. Your parents would’ve figured it out and would’ve made sure you got the support you needed. Bill and May were overwhelmed. The school failed you. Your teachers failed you. None of that was your fault. In any case, if you know what to look for, it’s much easier to find. You only looked for a diagnosis once you decided you didn’t want to work for Cash forever, didn’t you? And look what you’ve made, with everything in your head. You’re brilliant. You truly are, and I don’t care how many dys-words you are, for me…none of them are deal-breakers. Especially not if you want children deep down, too…and you do, don’t you? I’ve watched you with Hannah.”
My throat is cramping tight with unspent emotion. Here’s a woman who actually wants what I want and might be willing to take the risk.
“In any case,” she says, “if it is hereditary, it could happen to anybody in your family. Forewarned is forearmed.”
Forewarned is forearmed. I’d fallen through all those cracks in the system, and then with the aftermath of the accident… Even before that, Mamma had her hands full with the twins. Dad was gone for long stretches at a time. None of my teachers at school were particularly great. Maybe with a woman like Georgiana by my side, anything is possible. I pull her close to me and bury my face in her hair. Nobody has ever approached my challenges like this. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure, and I think that’s enough for a start.” She pokes me in the ribs. “I don’t want to mess with your color spectrum too much.”
She’s making light of this heavy discussion and the only thing I can do is nod. “All noted.”
We’re quiet for a moment as I digest what has passed between us. This is pure bliss, the type I never anticipated experiencing in my life and I don’t want it to end. I lean into her and brush my nose along her hairline, breathing in her scent, in awe of her warmth and spirit, and how close we’ve become over the past few weeks. When a tremor runs through her body, I look down, knowing already that she’s biting down on her lip, trying to contain her feelings.
“Georgiana?” I cuddle her even closer. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She hides her face and I turn on my side to make her look at me.
“Hey…tell me?” How can she be so open with me and then want to hide that she hurts?
She gulps down a sob. “I loved all of this so much and now that it’s over we won’t ever have this again.” I wipe at a lone tear, and she hiccups. “The situation with my parents is still unresolved. I don’t know. I need to go home and figure it out. Hash it out with my mom. See if she’s forgiven me.”
Talking about babies and how her mom had her at such a young age could have triggered this.