The next morning, while Cleo was still asleep, I was busy in the kitchen.
I ran a knife down into my arm and drained it into a glass. I wanted Cleo to be full, I didn't want her dehydrated ever again.
The blood from my arm filled about half of the tall glass.
I grabbed a bandaid and put some ointment on it, before putting it onto the small cut on my arm.
It was 11 a.m. I had to be to therapy in 30 minutes, and Cleo was still fast asleep.
That was okay, during my last two sessions she hadn't been in the waiting room. She'd stayed home, working on finishing up decorating and closing off deals.
I decided to write her a note and leave it on the counter next to the glass. I didn't want to wake her. She was adorable when she was asleep.
She'd snuggled up to me during the night, having wrapped her arms around me. Her soft little snores were irresistibly cute. It was horrible having to push her off of me without waking her. I could've stayed in bed with her forever.
I wrote Cleo a simple note, then took my two antidepressant pills with a glass of water and grabbed my car keys, heading out the garage door. I got into the driver's seat and the door slammed shut behind me.
The radio automatically came on as the car started up, but I turned it off. I enjoyed driving in silence. They never played anything good, anyway.
I hummed quietly as I focused on the road, driving in silence.
My session with Samantha was an hour and fifteen minutes. It had been simple, we'd talked about how I'd been doing lately. She'd asked about the bandaid on my arm.
I'd told her it was from a scratch.
When I got back home, I parked the car and went back in through the garage door.
It was 1 p.m. and Cleo looked like she had just gotten out of bed.
She sat at the stools pulled up at the kitchen island, where I'd left the glass and note. I snuck up behind her and hugged her waist.
"Hello, babydoll. How was your morning?" She asked with a small smile. I loved her morning voice.
"Quite productive, actually. Sorry about my bad handwriting."
She chuckled, "That's okay." She took a sip from the glass. "You didn't have to do this."
"How did you know it was mine?"
"I can smell your blood from a mile away," she snorted, "the taste is even more familiar."
"Yeah..." I smiled shyly, "I just wanted you to wake up to something nice. I don't want you to get sick again."
"I love you, Marine," she whispered sweetly.
"I love you more."
"Don't."
I giggled and sat on the stool next to her.
"How was your session?" Cleo ran a hand through her messy hair, taking another sip.
"It was good, Samantha had her hair up today,"
"And that was of importance to you?"
I laughed lightly.
"You have a crush on your therapist, don't you?" Cleo snorted.
"No I don't!" I blushed. "I just think she's pretty."
"That's always how it starts," she hummed, taking a drink.
"I don't have a crush on her." I mumbled.
"Sure you don't. Don't act like you don't tell me after every session what color of eyeshadow she was wearing, and how her hair was done."
I looked away. "Maybe a little bit. But I love you."
She laughed. "I know. I'm teasing, babydoll."
"You had a crush on the cashier at the grocery store the other day." I stated, looking back over at her.
"I did not," Cleo glared.
"You totally did."
"I did not."
"You were blushing! You barely blush around me!"
Cleo rolled her eyes, sipping continuously. "She was cute."
"Exactly."
"That's not a crush. She was just...attractive. You're attractive, Marine. But I'm used to how pretty you are. I can contain myself easier."
I blushed. "Whatever." I muttered.
Cleo shook her head, laughing.
"I want to talk to you about something,"
"Yeah?" I replied.
"About this baby you so badly want." She answered.
"Oh..."
"Is now not a good time?"
"No, no, it is. I just never thought you'd ask,"
"Well, I want to talk to you about it before we make any huge decisions. It's a baby, Marine. It's not something you can easily dispose of if you randomly decide don't want it anymore."
"I know." I responded.
"So, do you know a lot about babies?"
"No," I said, "but I'll have nine months to figure out everything I need to."
"So adopting is out of the picture then?" She questioned.
"I was thinking we could just find a donor."
Cleo slowly nodded. "What's your plan B if it doesn't work?"
"Get another one. If that doesn't work...then I guess it might just be me who's infertile."
"The probability of that is quite low, don't get too worried, okay, my love?"
"Right." I nodded.
"Surrogacy?"
I shook my head. "Are you against the donor idea?"
"No. I'm not. Although, it will be a little strange thinking of a man's sperm being put up inside of you, I suppose."
I grimaced, disgusted. "Okay- geez, Cleo. Don't think of it like that. I didn't need that picture in my mind."
She innocently took a sip. "Circle of life, babydoll."
I rolled my eyes. Then I paused.
"You think the clinic gets a lot of queer couples?" I whispered.
"Are you nervous about what they'll say?"
"Maybe a little bit."
"We'll find another if they say anything strange," she told me in reassurance. And I nodded.
"You know we're going to have to teach our children sex-ed?" She said.
"Well that was random," I muttered. "Yes, I know that."
She took a small drink. "Are you going to be disgusted then, too?"
"Well I certainly won't be enjoying talking to a ten year old about sex, Cleo."
"Ten year old?"
"I got the talk when I was ten." I mumbled. "My parents said, 'Don't worry, Marine! Double digits are exciting!'"
"I'm terribly sorry." She shook her head, "I learned by myself. I never got it."
"I think that's dangerous." I commented.
She nodded. "And STDs...we'll have to teach them about STDs." She hummed.
I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Dear God."
"Do you still want children, now?" She snickered.
"I'll have at least ten years to mentally prepare for that." I answered.
"Sex really isn't as fun as it seems, is it?"
"Well, I guess if you look past the STDs it's fine. But yeah, thanks a lot for reminding me they exist, Cleo."
She snorted. "Don't worry, you're safe. I'm not a whore."
"If you were a whore I'd have bigger issues than just fucking STDs."
"But yes, I still want children." I finished.
"Even after all of that?"
"You can't scare me off."
"We'll have to teach them about internet safety...kids these days and their technology."
I broke out into hysterical laughter. Cleo looked at me confused.
"You sound so old,"
"I am quite old, Marine. That's very rude." She raised an eyebrow, amused.
She respectfully waited until I was done laughing at her.
"Do you still want children after that?"
"I do. Do you want kids, Cleo? You seem hesitant, and I don't want to force you into anything."
A serious look came across her face.
"I do want children. In fact, a family is all I've ever wanted. I just want to make sure you know you're ready. And I know you're ready,"
I nodded, "Okay."
"Well...you know I love you. You know I'm also worried about how young you are, and how well your body will put up with being pregnant."
"I think I'm pretty super, thank you very much."
She gave me a stern look.
"Right...right, serious. Sorry." I said quietly.
Cleo finished the remainder of the glass. "Don't be sorry. Just be aware, babydoll,"
"Mhm,"
"We should check with a midwife. They could tell us a lot,"
I nodded.
"You really think you're ready?" She asked.
"I...mostly, yeah. I know never will really feel like the right time. But maybe that's why God gives you nine months to prepare."
"We should start trying then?"
"Soon, yeah."
Soon, soon we'd have a baby. No matter how hard it would be.
(A/N, Beware of STDs.)