I asked you to marry me. You’re my partner, my fiancee, my love. And I’m yours. I know it can be frightening sometimes when you realize you’ve found something this good, but Leigh, sweetheart, that’s normal. I can’t believe this is what’s been worrying you all this time. Just a little case of cold feet. Poor baby, I’m sorry you kept that inside for so long.”
He stopped long enough to hug her again, but this time Leigh pushed him away. His refusal to hear-to really listen-to what she was saying angered her: Was it really so impossible to fathom that she might not want to marry him?
“Russell, you’re not listening to me. You know I love you, but I can’t stop wondering if things didn’t move so quickly with us because of circumstances, you know? You start dating someone at this age and they fit all the criteria of being smart and successful and attractive and everyone else is getting married and they’re all asking you when you’re going to settle down. And it just chugs right along. What might have been a great, fun, yearlong relationship when you’re twenty-five all of a sudden starts to take on a whole new meaning at thirty, thirty-two. Then, before you know it, you’re getting engaged and committing your life to someone you don’t necessarily know all that well. Because ‘it’s time,’ whatever that means. Christ, I’m not explaining this well…”
Russell’s gaze, just minutes before oozing empathy and kindness, grew steely. “Actually, I think you’re explaining yourself quite clearly.”
“So you sort of understand what I’m saying?”
“You’re saying that you think this is all wrong and has been for some time but you never had the nerve to tell me.”
Now she wanted to tell Russell the whole truth, tell him all about Jesse and how happy and relaxed she felt when she was with him, how that single night of sex stayed more firmly planted in her mind than eighteen months’ worth with Russell.
She was seconds away from blurting out the entire story when, thankfully, she stopped herself. What would be the point of telling him about Jesse? Was it really the charitable thing to do? Russell wouldn’t have to take the rejection quite so personally if he could channel his energy into hating Leigh for her indiscretion. That didn’t feel right, either. Why hurt him unnecessarily? But was it wrong to keep it from him, considering the conventional wisdom that it’s noble to be completely honest and up-front? Confused and exhausted, she decided not to say anything. From the coldness of his last statement and the look in his eye, Russell didn’t appear interested in much more talking. Why make everything harder than it had to be?
Suddenly he surprised her by grabbing her face and staring into her eyes.
“Look, Leigh, I know what you are feeling is nothing more than normal, natural cold feet. Why don’t you take some time for yourself, you know, alone, like you suggested, and think about everything? Think it through.”
Leigh sighed to herself. His pleading look was almost more unbearable than his anger. “Russ, I’m, uh…I’m-”
Obviously this was true. She knew there was no point-no point whatsoever-in dragging this out, no matter how much less terrifying it might be to delay the unpleasantness. She knew beyond any doubt that things were permanently over, but hearing her own words was still downright shocking.
Russell stood up and walked toward the door. “Well,” he said quietly, in that controlled voice of his that worked so well on-air. “I suppose there’s nothing more to say. I love you, Leigh, and I always will, but I’d like you to leave.”
These were the words that Leigh repeated to herself as she rode home in the backseat of the first cab she’d ever hailed for herself when leaving his apartment. Almost as quickly as it had begun, her relationship with Russell was over, and gone with it was the anxiety she’d been harboring for months. She took a long, deep breath, and as the taxi flew up Sixth Avenue toward her building, she finally admitted to herself that, yes, she felt deeply sad about what had just transpired, but mostly she felt relief.
may her huge, perky boobs give her back pain by thirty
“Emmy, I’ve been telling you this since the very first time you walked into my office. You have plenty of time.”
“That’s not what all the magazines out there say!” Emmy said and pointed toward the door. “Isn’t it a mixed message to tell me that I’ve got all the time in the world and then stock your waiting room with a thousand articles that all tell me my ovaries are shriveling up?”
Dr. Kim sighed. She was a pretty Asian woman who looked at least fifteen years younger than her forty-two years, but this wasn’t what bothered Emmy. The good doctor-who reassured Emmy at every single visit (and sometimes in between) that Emmy’s childbearing years were still upon her-had herself birthed three perfect children, two boys and a girl, all before her thirty-first birthday. When Emmy repeatedly asked Dr. Kim how she’d juggled a husband, med school, residency, and three children under the age of five, all while working four days a week and being on call every third night and every other weekend, the doctor just smiled, shrugged, and said, “You just do it. It seems impossible sometimes, but it always works out one way or another.”
Emmy was lying spread-eagled on the exam table exactly one day before her thirtieth birthday, and she was determined to hear the heartening news again. “Tell me about your average patient,” Emmy prompted, barely even noticing Dr. Kim’s gloved finger inside her. She felt the pinch of the Pap smear Q-tip and held her breath to keep from moving.
“Emmy! You could tell it to me. I’ve told you a hundred times already.”
“One more won’t hurt.”
Dr. Kim removed her finger and snapped off her glove. She sighed again. “I have approximately two hundred and fifty patients in my practice at this location. Of those women, the average age for first-time pregnancy is thirty- four. Which of course means that-”
“A whole bunch have to be even older than that,” Emmy finished.
“Exactly. And while I don’t want to misrepresent anything here-it’s important you understand that this is the Upper East Side and probably the only place in the country, if not the world, where that statistic stands-the majority do not experience difficulty.”
“So no pregnant patients in their twenties?” Emmy prompted.
Dr. Kim untied Emmy’s robe and began to examine her left breast in a firm, circular motion. She stared at the wall as she did this, clearly concentrating. After finishing both sides, she pulled the robe closed again and placed a hand on Emmy’s arm.
“Only a few,” she said, looking at Emmy with concern.
“A few! Last time you said ‘practically none.’”
“Only the very young wives of a few Mormon doctors from Utah doing their rotations at Mt. Sinai.”
Emmy breathed a sigh of relief.
“Are you still happy with your pill?” Dr. Kim asked, making notations on Emmy’s chart.
“It’s fine.” Emmy shrugged and sat up on the table, removing her feet from the sock-covered stirrups. “Certainly does work like a charm.”
Dr. Kim laughed. “That is the point, isn’t it? I’ll leave you a new script for another six months’ worth at the front desk, okay? We’ll mail your test results within a week, but I don’t foresee any problems at all. Everything looks perfectly healthy.” She handed Emmy’s chart to the nurse and, after making sure Emmy was covered, opened the door. “See you in six months. And sweetheart? Please relax. As your doctor, I’m telling you that there’s absolutely nothing whatsoever to worry about.”
After dressing, Emmy jumped on the 4 train to Union Square. She figured on a brisk walk directly home to shower-something she always felt compelled to do after the K-Y-heavy exams-but as she exited the subway at Fourteenth and Broadway she found herself heading directly toward Leigh and Adriana’s building. With Leigh’s breakup only a week old and Adriana’s newfound commitment to work, she figured at least one of them had to be
