Just Like That

19. "five months"

Breanna Michelle Santana

  "So, doc? Is there anything I can do t-to fix this?"

"I'm afraid not. It's simply the shape of your uterus."

"Okay, I'm confused?"

"The shape makes it hard for a fertilized egg to implant." He told me, looking at my x-rays.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you're infertile. This is common in cis women, Miss Santana. There are some treatment options for infertility but for you, in this case, it's just your heart-shaped uterus. However, there is a surgery you could get. Would you like to know more?"

"Surgery? I don't want that." I knew that wasn't an option, afraid that it could ruin more than it could fix. However, if I endured more failed pregnancies as time went on, I'd consider it.

"Then I'm afraid there's not much more we could do."

"So, what does this mean? I won't be able to get pregnant at all?"

"If you do, the chances of staying pregnant are very, very slim - nearly impossible - but that's even if you— I'm sorry, Miss Santana."

======

Sigh.

As my car pulled into the driveway, a white Chrysler 300 pulled out and sped down the road in the opposite direction of which I came.

I got out of my car and locked the doors before walking along the pavement to get to the front door where I rang the doorbell and waited for my dad to answer as I was too tired to even get out my copy of the house key.

"Hey." My dad greeted me out of breath.

"Hey. Dad, who was that that just left here?" I asked, bringing myself to the living room where I lazily plopped down onto the sectional.

"Just a friend." He couldn't help but smile so I figured that meant they were more than just "friends".

I lifted my head to tease him. "A friend, or a friend?"

"Just a friend." He repeated, laughing on the arm of the chair.

"Uh-huh," I sounded,"is this the same friend you had over the other night?"

"Ew, Brea, you were here?"

"Yes and wide awake. I heard everything."

"That's unsettling." He cringed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You're telling me." I scoffed, putting my face in the pillow.

"Sorry." He shrugged and walked into the kitchen. "How's Grayson, he hasn't been over much?"

"Too busy with the house and soccer team." I answered with a slight snarky tone as I was upset to not be spending a desirable amount of time with my "boyfriend".

"The season's almost over, he'll be all yours."

"I guess." I didn't sound too sure, not trying to get my hopes up for nothing.

"You get your dress for the wedding this weekend?"

"I think I'm just going to wear something old, I barely feel like going." I brought myself to sit on a barstool at the counter.

"Why not, bud?"

I shrugged my shoulders like I didn't know the answer when I really did. Truth is, I didn't wanna be surrounded by more kids, happy couples, and pregnant women. It was beginning to become depressing, and cruelly torturous.