Tessie remains professional in her notification, but I’m a bit perturbed by Dawn’s lurking presence.
Tessie leaves, and as advised, preparation for my big day commences immediately. I’m measured and pinched, supposedly for my undergarments. I didn’t know they made undergarments for the type gown that I’ll be wearing. The waxing is as distressing as it always is, and my mani and pedi is uneventful.
While on the massage table, I ponder over the oddity of not having been connected to Azmir in the past few weeks. We’ve spoken several times a day, most days, but would go a day or so without a sight of each other.
There’s been no discord between us, just a little distance and I wonder if it’s been by design. Azmir has worked like a dog, per usual, and has even traveled over the past few weeks. Though I’ve never shared it with him, I’ve been missing him like crazy. Over the past few weeks, there’s been traces of him, like his soiled clothes in the hamper of the master bathroom, or paperwork left behind on the coffee table in the sitting area of the master bedroom. He’d even stopped by my office unannounced one afternoon, but didn’t see me because I was in with a patient.
There was one evening, a few days ago when I was plagued with period symptoms, I entered the building and Roberto handed me a single rose and card with my name printed in Azmir’s calligraphy. Not being able to wait until I reached the privacy of the apartment, I ripped the envelope open on the elevator and almost immediately choked back a cry.
My dearest Ms. Brimm,
I know you’re miserably plagued with symptoms related to your menstrual cycle and I am all too regretful that I’m not there to help you ease them. But consider the silver lining, this will be your last cycle as a single woman. The next time you’ll be my wife, my partner, my preferable obligation to soothe.
Cheer up, little girl, it’ll all be over soon.
Missing you like crazy,
A.D. Jacobs
Then I entered the foyer of the apartment to find a decorative basket, filled with bath goods—salts, bubbles, powdered aromas—even candles and moisturizers. All of these small things that swelled my heart in total elation.
The memory even brings a smile my face while on the massage table, here in the cabin. The last time I heard from A.D. was yesterday, during the conference I worked in Dan Smith’s proxy.
I excused myself from the exam room when I heard his silky vocal chords, pouring through the phone.
“Hey to you,” I returned his greeting as I watched an attendee pass me and pace down the corridor. “How are you?” I wanted to refer to him as a stranger, but that would give away my disproval of his absence.
“I’m making it. Tired…frustrated, but making it.” I heard him let out a long exhale from his nostrils into the phone. My eyes fluttered in comfort and exhilaration of sound of it.
How weird is that something humdrum and common as an exhale from Azmir could summons a physiological response from me? I missed him, his calming aura. His equanimity when my nerves were atwitter. His hands, causing my body to writhe. His mouth, tickling the side of my abdomen below my breast, but above my hip.
“Are you still bleeding?” Azmir asked, flaring my curiosity and confusion.
Out of all the topics of conversation or inquiries of deliveries to the marina, I wasn’t expecting that question. My first inclination was to play coy and ask the nature of his inquisition, but my pining of him and his firm tone advised otherwise.
I licked my lips, all of a sudden experiencing extra moisture in my mouth as my heartbeat accelerated. “Umm…yeah,” I sputtered “Yeah…a little spotting when I woke up this morning.” My eyes closed on their own accord.
Something as little as my monthly period being a stark topic of conversation between me and Azmir was riddled in angst, which one would immediately think was absurd. But it wasn’t. It was symbolic of the undertone of finality. We were making a huge, significant, life changing, and final decision that would reshape our lives. Lives that have already been set ablaze by secrets, betrayal, games, and even lies. In that moment, we understood what was behind us as a couple. What’s absolutely vague is what waits ahead. Even with that uncertainty, we’re forging ahead, almost running to the altar; only armed with a dozen and a half premarital counseling sessions.
“But I’m sure I’ll be all cleared by tomorrow,” I assured Azmir.