While Jeremy focused on the drive to Monica’s place, she shrank into the far side of the passenger seat and closed her eyes. Bracing herself, she prepared for the emotional blow she knew was coming. After all, following today’s events, he had every right to be put out by her standoffish behavior. “Jeremy,” she began timidly, “I’m so sorry I let you down.”
No JB. No flirty sass. Instead, she stared straight ahead, into a curving roadway sided by towering trees. Homes, occasional stores, and strip malls flashed past. Silence pressed in on her from all sides, oppressive and nearly claustrophobic.
Sorry I let you down. Those five small words formed a haunting refrain, followed by the main verse: And this is only the beginning.
Jeremy turned into the entrance of Monica’s subdivision. “I just don’t get it. Kids are your passion. They’re the largest part of your life. You love them. But today, with my family, and especially when Dav and Kiara made their announcements, when I figured you’d be one of the largest parts of the cheering section, you vanished. You sparkle, and you’re so easy to be with, and enjoy. But today you backed yourself into a corner and not only did you refuse to leave that corner behind, you came off seeming—” He paused. Shrugged. “Distant. You were defensive. For the life of me, I don’t understand why.”
His tone, laced by frustration, seeped into her system like some kind of slow-acting, destructive poison. The only anti-venom? Revelation.
They reached her home. When Jeremy parked, Monica looked straight ahead. “I didn’t mean to be rude,” she began, quietly. “I didn’t want to feel the way I did today, Jeremy. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop what came over me. I try, and I try…but…”
Jeremy touched her shoulder. His eyes glittered in the dim illumination of her neighbor’s garage light. “Monica, what is it? Please tell me what’s going on.”
She squeezed her hands into tight fists. Before he could turn the tables, and gain an upper hand in this conversation, an upper hand she was in desperate need of maintaining, Monica exited his truck and walked into her home. Jeremy followed while she flicked on a couple lights and greeted Toby. After Toby leaped around Jeremy’s legs, familiarizing himself with this intriguing stranger, and after the dog received a series of hearty pets and greetings, Monica released him into the backyard for a late-night romp so she could talk to Jeremy in peace.
As they sat on the couch in her living room, she began anew. “About today. First and foremost, let me repeat the fact that I’m sorry. Please know I didn’t mean to hurt you, or anyone else.”
“Apology accepted, Monica, but that’s not even the issue for me right now. Not anymore. You’re the issue. Something hurt you, and I want to know what it is. It’s as simple as that.”
“And as complicated,” she whispered, blowing out a breath she held too tight in her chest. She spoke up louder now. “Actually I had a good time, but…”
Jeremy cut in. “But. That’s the issue. Talk to me about but.”
Instinctively she looked up, searching his eyes. The degree of emotion she found there hit her senses, struck heat to her soul. The feelings between them had deepened with such heady speed. That fact alone wouldn’t alarm her, but so much stood between them. All would be lost once he knew the truth about her, and that made everything about this day painful, and bittersweet.
“OK, let me try to get this out,” she murmured, more to herself than Jeremy. She stood to pace the living room. In counterpoint, Jeremy remained seated. He seemed so calm. So rock steady.
“I enjoyed your family very much. They’re funny and warm and loving. They’re a symbol to me of everything you deserve, and probably long for in a family of your own. You told me yourself that you’re mapping out a legacy. You want to keep tradition, and a family’s love, alive in everything that you do. That’s a beautiful thing.”
“Monica, where is all of this coming from?” When she didn’t answer right away, Jeremy persisted. “Let me in. Show me that you trust me.”
She wrapped her arms around her waist, trying desperately to hold herself together while she took a sledgehammer to their relationship, a relationship she would have loved embracing. “You want children and a family more than anything, right?”
“Ultimately, yes. Absolutely.”
“So do I.” She spun toward him, desperate to avoid the fateful blow, but unable to stop it.
Jeremy waited, obviously not yet understanding where the conversation was headed.
“But I can’t be what you want. I’m not able. I can never get pregnant. I can never have children. I can’t. I can’t ever fill that part of your life—or my own. Your family is wonderful. That’s honestly how I feel, even if I showed it poorly today. And family is of vital importance to you, Jeremy. That truth colored my entire time with them, and with you. It shredded a part of my heart, and my hopes for you and me.”
His brows pulled together. He shook his head slightly and gave her a startled look. “What are you saying?”
“I’m infertile. The medical term for my condition is endometriosis. My case is severe enough that ultimately I may even require a hysterectomy.”
His silence, hers coupled with it, allowed the charged air between them to settle a bit. Monica forced herself to take a few deep breaths to re-steady her trembling legs and hands.
She waited on him, stiff tension climbing up her back inch by fateful inch as the silence continued. She watched Jeremy blink free of his thoughts and lock focus on her face, then her eyes. “Wh…when? How did you find out? I mean—”
Monica stood stock still, facing him as straight as she could manage. “It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.”
She remained frozen in place, in time. “It’s got a lot of detail you may not want to hear.”
“This is your life, right? The battle you’re fighting?”
She nodded.
“Then don’t cushion me. Or us. There’s nothing about you that I don’t want to hear about, or know about. Believe that.”
The us portion of that sentence sounded so good. In fact, it skimmed against her skin like the stroke of a sable brush.
“OK. For better or worse.” She paused. “When I”—she shrugged delicately—“came of age physically, I had issues from day one. Symptoms started small, but built, year-by-year, until by the time I was halfway through college, I had it all. The swollen stomach. Nausea. Blinding headaches. Excessive bleeding. To cap it all off, the middle of every blessed month was an odyssey of pain.” Memories crashed in—leaving her feeling so bereft. So unfeminine, and immodest. That’s why she could discuss the condition with Jeremy now. She had been forced to become clinical about it all. Detached. Except when in the company of large, loving families. Expanding families. Being with the Edwards’s today filled her with an ache so acute, so pervasive, it knocked the very breath right out of her.
But she had to tell him everything. She could accept no other option but complete honesty. “My condition became severe enough that I finally sought help. I went to specialists. For months, I lived an honest-to-goodness nightmare when it came to my health. I won’t go into the ways in which I felt like a guinea pig, or like I was nothing more than a test specimen. At the end of almost a year, after blood tests, hormone treatments, a laparoscopy, and at last, full-blown surgery, the best they could come up with was that I suffered from ovarian cysts which I had a possibility of outgrowing at some point in the future.”
Monica paced, unable to meet his gaze right now. “The process was humiliating, but I was young and figured I had hope. In the meantime, I found my calling with early childhood education. Maybe something inside my head was getting the message my heart refused to accept—that I better prepare myself for life without kids of my own by building my life around those I could help, and teach and engage.”
Jeremy stood, and he did the pacing now. “Are you sure kids are out of the question? From what very little I know about endometriosis, it’s inconsistent, isn’t it? Women can still get pregnant, still have happy, healthy babies—right?”
The longing in his voice was a near perfect echo of her own. She understood completely because she lived those desires day by day, month after month, until hope became exhausted. She didn’t even try to cushion her answer. “Not this time. Not for me.”
Those six quietly spoken words hung in the air.
“You can’t hold any illusions about me, Jeremy. I’m beaten, and I’m scared, and I’m angry. I don’t even feel…” She shrugged and looked up at the ceiling to blink her blurred vision clear of moisture. “I don’t even feel feminine sometimes.” She faced him squarely. “I’ve been told in counseling that that may be part of why I focus on dance and physical expression—to affirm my time and place as a woman. I just don’t know anymore. And I most certainly don’t want to wake up to feelings like I have for you, then go through a crash and burn when the relationship dissolves because I can’t be everything you want, and need. The idea of that scares me to death. I’ve been denied so much—so many things that my heart holds most dear. I know how selfish and narcissistic that sounds, but my feelings are my feelings, and I can’t escape them, no matter how hard I try.” She hung her head, returning to the couch.
Jeremy joined her.
“I’m so sorry for backing off from everything, and everyone, today. But can you possibly understand how Daveny and Kiara’s announcement cut through my heart? How being around your family affected me?”
He studied her for a moment before answering. “Yes, Monica, I can. But the only way you’re going to get to the other side of this situation is by grabbing hold of some semblance of faith, and trust. Learn to let go of what God is denying you, and focus instead on everything He’s given you!”
She’d been down this road before, and she was ready. “Really?” She fired back. “What has He given me? I’m empty! I’m literally and figuratively empty! How can that appeal to you—in the long term? Once the passion and excitement is replaced by the day-to- day, how will you be able to be happy with a woman who can’t give you a family? A woman who can’t give you a child, and the legacy you’ve admitted to building your life for?”
“Thanks for shortchanging me, Monica. Thanks a lot.”
“Jeremy, listen to what I’m saying! Be realistic! This is as much about how inadequate I feel as it is about my feelings for you!”
“OK, then let me be realistic.” He stood and turned to her. He met her hot and confrontational posture straight on. “In fact, here’s a healthy dose of realism for you: do you think you’re not benefiting every single child at Sunny Horizons? What about the girls who dance for you? What about them? Don’t any of them count in the balance?”
Monica gaped. “Well there we go. Problem solved!”
“Monica, stop it!”
“No, you stop it! First of all, the answer to my problems is not that simple. Secondly, even the point of view you just expressed doesn’t answer what I’m unable to bring to a relationship, to a family life, with you or anyone else over the long term.”
“So your answer is to give up? Really? That’s so not like the woman I’ve gotten to know, and admire.”
“It’s not giving up, it’s being realistic.” Monica tried to steady her breathing; she leaned forward and cradled her head in her hands. “I’ve been operated on by scalpels and lasers, spent portions of the month flat on my back, endured tests and needles, been treated with drugs and still endured the pain. At the end of the road the truth is this: I’m not meant to have a family. I’ve had to find a way to accept that.”
“Monica, you’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. You’re good hearted and intelligent—smart enough to recognize stubbornness! You’re suffering from tunnel vision.”
“Tunnel vision.” She shook her head. “I guess that’s how you’d see it. I suppose it’s easy to downplay what I feel, and the emptiness that goes along with it.” Then, since they were at the point of no return anyhow, she admitted to the worst of her doubts and fears. “I feel like I was marked as unworthy. Less of a woman.”
He studied her in silence for a long, tense moment. “You couldn’t be more wrong.”
She shook her head, making an exasperated noise. She looked up in time to see Jeremy squeeze the bridge of his nose.
“You know, I could talk until I’m blue in the face, but you won’t realize the truth of what I’m saying until you find a way to take a long, hard look at the life you really have in front of you versus the life you’re clinging to despite everything God’s showing you!”
“Once again, Jeremy, you’re using platitudes to simplify what I feel—and I’m here to tell you, it just doesn’t work! It sounds great in theory, sure, but that philosophy has failed me miserably.” Almost immediately, she regretted those snapping words, and her waspish tone.
Her attitude didn’t seem to deter him in the least, though. Jeremy possessed the ability to recognize pain versus anger. Further, he cared—cared enough to endure the sword slice of her self-doubts. So when he took a deep breath, and returned to her side at the couch, Monica welcomed his touch—the way he held her shoulders fast, but with tenderness.
And he urged, “Please don’t make this your life’s deal breaker. You’re better than that. You’re an exquisite, remarkable woman. And you have too many gifts to offer this world, and the children in it, to let this beat you, or close you down. Anything less is a waste.”
The words slipped past her defensive walls and struck home, giving her a lot to think about. Jeremy continued. “One last thing to consider, Monica – and I want you to understand this fact with complete clarity: passion and fire may cool, but they never disappear. My feelings for you won’t disappear. If you’re waiting for that to happen—expecting it to happen because of infertility—then you’ll end up disappointed. I told you at Polonia, I’m a man of action. I’m about resolving things—good and bad—by being present to the people I care about. I don’t disappear. I don’t vanish in the face of what I do, or don’t, receive in this life. My blessings come from God—and you’re just that to me, Monica Kittelski. You’re precious. To me. To God. Accept that fact. Deal with it.”
His tough-minded declaration stirred her senses. Her blood sang, pounding in her ears. Tears poured down her cheeks, a sudden and unstoppable flood of release and longing. “I’m scared, and I hate being scared. I blew it today, and I know it. I didn’t mean to. Honest. Thing is, I don’t know how to move ahead without screwing up, JB. And I do not want to screw this up.” The resumption of his nickname came easy just now.
He relaxed his shoulders a bit and took her hands in his. “I told you before, I’m not good with the words, with putting emotions forward,” he said quietly. “But I know who is. Would you please, for me, talk this over with Ken? I promise you he’ll provide objective advice. He’s been through heartbreaks that are different from yours, but just as powerful, and he’s a remarkable man. I trust him completely, and he will not pressure you. You don’t have to claim God. Not yet, if you’re not ready and able—but give a try to listening to God. I believe in His providence with all my heart, Monica. Pour your heart out, and I promise, in His hands, you’ll be safe. You’ll be cared for. Would you do that? For me?”
“For us?” she asked with a shaky voice and a trembling that was probably easy for him to see, given her tight stance.
“For us.”
“I can only try.”
His eyes dimmed. “Trying is fine, Monica, but you can’t bolt in the face of what you’ve been denied, like you did today. That worries me a lot more than whether or not you can have kids. Get a handle on that part of your battle, OK? More than a mother to my children, I want a woman who will stand by my side—no matter what—knowing our strength, and provision, will come from Christ, and that in that faith will come goodness. Lean on Him, Jellybean, or your troubles will only intensify. You’ve been bearing the load on your own for way too long. You need, and deserve, His grace. It’s perfect, and it’s faultless, no matter what your outward circumstances appear. The time-worn cliché is so very true: when we can’t, God can. Will you talk to Ken?”
She deflected her gaze, but slowly—very slowly—she nodded.