Page 210 of Lose You Twice

38

WREN

Pulling the sleeves of my hoodie down over my hands, I lean against the pier’s railing, the air from the ocean hitting my face.

Shutting down over results I don’t even know probably isn’t the most ideal way to handle this situation. Neither is ignoring my best friend or Kai, but I just needed a minute to get my head back in order.

I’ve never felt a stronger calling than the one I felt toward being a mom. Nothing is even concrete; my mind is just full of unknowns, my life holding even more.

It feels like a choice has been ripped away from me before I even know if that’s a fact.

I wish I had never opened the results. I wish they didn’t allow people to open those alone before they could speak to their medical team, before they could have someone to ease their worries or to at least comfort them if it truly wasn’t good news.

Instead, seeing them gives you the opportunity to look up the worst-case scenarios. For your brain to run wild and morph those unknowns into fears that could be your reality, even if it wasn’t born from facts, but from feelings.

I look out over the ocean, watching the waves lap at the base of the pier.

Standing in this same spot five years ago, I took a picture of Kai. He was leaning against the railing, just like I am now. He was smiling just slightly, his eyes still bright with the laughter that had escaped him just moments before. The sun was setting, the lights along the wooden railing starting to glow, painting the perfect picture of everything I loved.

That one picture is what had piqued my interest in photography. As the years went by after that, I enjoyed seeing how different lighting could change the feeling within a photo, capturing every perfect moment, or even the soul-crushing ones.

He bought me my first good camera for Christmas my sophomore year and was a willing muse for those next eighteen months. I photographed him on the ice, his teammates quickly asking for pictures of themselves as well.

Next thing I knew, I had gotten myself a spot on the school paper, in charge of taking photos at all the school sporting events I could.

I still love it, even now. It’s the only other thing that has ever come close to feeling like something I wanted to pursue, but it’s always felt empty in a way.

Maybe because I didn’t have the last puzzle piece making me whole again.

And now I do. Or did? I don’t know.

If I can’t give Kai the future he wants, the one he’s dreamed about, openly and unabashedly for years, who am I to hold him back from finding someone who can?

My eyes threaten tears again, and I quickly wipe them away.

Sometimes I really wish I could wrangle my brain, maybe force it to not always jump to the worst possible conclusions about myself.

I’d never let someone else speak to me or anyone else the way I talk to myself, so why do I continue to let it happen?

Nothing has said I have endometriosis. Nothing has said that I can’t have children.

It’s just my own mind twisting everything into something negative, wanting to torture itself by pushing away some of the only things that have ever made it fully content.

I hear footsteps on the pier, looking up to find one of those things.

He gives me a small grin. “This spot taken?”

I shake my head, my eyes stinging with effort to keep the waterworks at bay. “How’d you know I’d be here?”

“Pretty place for a pretty girl.” Kai stands beside me, glancing at the water below. “Nah, I actually went to your house first, but your mom said you weren’t there, so I figured I’d do a little scavenger hunt until I found you. Thankfully, this was only the second stop.”

I smile despite myself, and we fall into a comfortable silence.

That’s another thing I love about him, about us. We don’t have to always be speaking to enjoy each other’s company. We can sit in the quiet and still feel comforted, simply by being together.

“You wanna talk about it?” he finally asks.

I sigh. “Not really, no.”