Changes 3/4

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Changes
By T. L. Odell
Part 3/4
See Part 0 for Disclaimers


"I think I'm just tired.  I've not been sleeping that well."

"Newlywed not sleeping, or really not sleeping?"

Tessa gave Cecile a poke.  "You devil.  But…"  She had never
been able to keep anything from Cecile.  She took another sip of
brandy and whispered, "Cecile, sometimes I think I might be
having a nervous breakdown."

"What makes you think that?" Cecile asked worriedly.

"I can't sleep; I get so restless I have to get up and walk around.  Or
I wake up feeling like my body's on fire.  I cry over everything and
nothing.  And sometimes it's like I'm outside my body, watching
this evil woman take over.  Promise you won't laugh."

"Tessa, it's Truth Night.  No laughing at the other's deep dark
secrets.  I remember the rules."

"Well, once I went to the store, not my usual market.  I had this
coupon for a free turkey from one of Duncan's clients, but it had to
be used at Goodwin's.  When I got there, there were no more birds
the right size, and the butcher told me that I should just get a
bigger one and pay the difference.  All of a sudden, this witch took
control and started arguing with the butcher, and insisting that he
substitute something of equal value; I wasn't going to pay any
money.  And when he didn't back down, I tore up the coupon and
threw it at him, and then I threw the shopping basket, too."

"What happened after that?" asked Cecile, a serious expression on
her face.

"He gave me a credit toward anything in the store, but I was lucky
he didn't call someone and have me thrown out.  It wasn't until I
got outside that I became all embarrassed and wondered what had
driven me to be so rude."

"Well, you did get your coupon traded in."

"Cecile, that's not funny.  I don't know what came over me.  And
then sometimes, I get totally upset over nothing; someone cuts into
my lane of traffic, and I have knots in my stomach all day.  I walk
into a room and forget why I'm there.  And poor Duncan …"

"You mean you feel guilty that it takes a bit longer to get fired up
for sex?"

Tessa felt herself blushing as she nodded.

"Or that sometimes no matter what he does, it makes you
absolutely furious?"

"How did you know?  I screamed for ten whole minutes once when
he left the toilet seat up, and I fumed all day.  Thank goodness he
wasn't home."  Tessa stared intently at Cecile.  "Do you think I'm
going crazy?"

"Oh, Tessa, you poor dear."  Cecile leaned over and squeezed
Tessa's hand.  "You don't need a psychiatrist.  First thing tomorrow
you'll call your gynecologist and make an appointment.  You've
described perimenopause perfectly."

"Me?  Menopause?  I don't think so.  Not yet.  I mean, I'm still
cycling.  Not all that regularly, but I thought you had to stop to be
menopausal."

"Oh no, not at all.  Your body is changing all the time.  Your
hormones can be going haywire for years before you get to that
point."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because, my dear friend, I've been there.  I've had all the same
symptoms.  You need to check with your doctor, but let me tell
you, neither Frank nor I could live with me without my hormone
replacement."

"You really think-"

"Damn right.  You'll be amazed at how much better you feel.  I
think you'll get rid of your nasty bitch.  And you'll probably start
sleeping better, too, which helps with the mood swings and MBF.
It's hard to be nice when you're exhausted."

"What's MBF?" asked Tessa.

"Menopausal Brain Fog.  I remember driving all the way to the
Post Office to mail a bunch of Christmas presents, but I'd left all
the packages on the floor at home."

"I certainly have that one."  Tessa sniffed and wiped her eyes.  "I
told you, I cry over everything."

"Crying is good, Tess.  Go right ahead."

Tessa felt the tears flow, but they stemmed from relief, not
confusion or anger.  Cecile held her, comforted her, just as they
had comforted each other as children.

"Tessa," asked Cecile after the tears had stopped.  "Don't you have
friends you can talk to about this?  If you hadn't been in Paris when
I was going through the worst of it, I'd have called you.  You're
hardly alone; there are millions of us out there."

Tessa wiped her eyes again.  "I can't talk to my friends about
things like this.  I guess it doesn't feel right.  You know my mother
… well, we just didn't discuss the facts of life.  I learned almost
everything from you."  She smiled through her tears.

"Well, dear girl, you can email, call, show up on my doorstep any
time.  I'm here for you.  But I think you ought to try the Internet."

"What?"

"I'll show you a great site.  You'd be amazed to find out how many
women have had exactly the same experiences you have.  They're
faceless strangers at first; it's much easier to open up.  And," she
added, "they can't see if you're crying, or throwing things, or
stuffing your face with chocolate."

"You've done this, right?" asked Tessa.

"Absolutely.  I check in at least once or twice a day, as a matter of
fact.  And I now consider these ladies to be family.  We'll log on
together tomorrow; I'd love to introduce you to Dee-she nearly
jumped over the counter at her dry cleaning lady.  She's an artist,
too.  And Minnie-she does these fantastic cartoons.  It helps to be
able to laugh about menopause."

"I guess it can't hurt," said Tessa.

"You'll love it, I guarantee.  Now," said Cecile, "tell me about what
else you've done to poor Duncan."

"I think it's your turn," retorted Tessa.  "You tell me what Frank
had to put up with while you were getting straightened out."

The two women shared stories for hours, once again laughing like
they did in their teens.

The next morning, after making a doctor's appointment for Tessa,
Cecile insisted on going shopping.  "Lavender body spray and
lotion to help you relax; tofu, edamame, flax seed oil, and soy
protein powders for the hot flashes," she explained.

"But what will Duncan say when I serve him tofu?"

"That's the beauty of menopause.  You don't have to care.  Just do
what you want," Cecile laughed.  "Has he coped with your PMS
before now?"

"Begrudgingly, but yes," admitted Tessa.

"Well, you can let him know that PMS was Menopause-lite, and
that he should just get on the ride with you.  It's a Disney E-ticket.
He loves you; he'll understand."

"I'm not so sure … "

"Just work out a signal … when you say a certain phrase, or
gesture in a particular way, he should duck and run for cover.
Even though your mind knows that it's just hormones, those little
chemicals are all-powerful and can override any logic--and then
the fireworks begin.  As long as you both understand, you can pick
up where you left off without any repercussions.  It's worked for
me and Frank for years."

"I love you, Cecile."

"Love you, too, Tess."

***

Duncan returned Tuesday evening.  He peeked his head into the
studio where Tessa was engrossed in her sculpture, blowtorch in
hand.  He was almost afraid to approach her.  He stopped just
barely within her line of vision so that she could pretend not to see
him if she wanted.

She looked up and raised the visor on her protective helmet.  "Hi,
Mac.  Welcome home."  Her face brightened into a grin he hadn't
seen in a while.

He released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.  "If you'll
turn off that thing, I'll give you a proper hello," he said.

She put down both torch and helmet.  "I'm waiting."

The kiss was anything but the peck he had received when he left.
Whatever happened when Cecile visited seemed to have done the
trick.  Or maybe Tessa had just gotten the handle on her sculpture.
He had no intention of asking; he'd just enjoy it.  "Missed you," he
said.  "Did you have fun with Cecile?"

"Yes, I did, as a matter of fact.  Don't I always?"

"Of course you do.  When you're done in here, come into the
apartment; I brought you something from Charlotte."

"I can stop now.  What did you bring me?"  Her eyes twinkled with
expectation as she followed him inside.

He showed her an antique silver vase, leaves and rosebuds
entwined in bas relief over its surface.  "If I don't fill it with
flowers once a week, you have the right to punish me any way you
see fit.  And I'll even polish it," he added.  He took her hands in
his.  "Tessa, I love you.  I've loved you from the moment I saw you
on the tour boat on the Seine.  I will always love you."

"And I'll always love you, too.  Thank you, Mac.  It's gorgeous,
with or without flowers.  But I will hold you to the polishing," she
said impishly.  She raised her face to his, and their kiss surpassed
the one in the studio.

"Would you like to go out for dinner?" he asked.

"Actually, I've got dinner all ready to go.  I think we should eat at
home tonight.  We need to talk," she said, a serious expression on
her face.

Her words sent a knife through his gut.  "We need to talk."  His
mind whirled, his thoughts a tangle of all the possible reasons
Tessa would want to talk, none of them good ones.  "About what?"
he said, striving to maintain a pleasant expression.

"Let me get cleaned up and get dinner into the oven.  We'll talk
after we eat.  How about starting a fire and opening a bottle of
wine?" she asked.

"Sure," he said automatically, his mind racing back over the past
week.  When he'd called, he'd often gotten the answering machine.
When Tessa had answered, she'd sounded distracted.  *But Cecile
was here; they were busy,* he rationalized.  *Or she was working
on her sculpture, too involved to talk.*

Tessa stroked the contours of the vase, then went to the bedroom to
get changed.  Duncan glanced at the desk calendar and noticed a
doctor's appointment that hadn't been there before he left.  He
didn't recognize the doctor's name.  That was Friday.  *She's
already seen the doctor.  Oh God, please.  She can't be sick.*  He
noticed a receipt from the pharmacy, but there was just an amount,
no copy of the prescription attached.  His sense of dread
intensified.  His heart raced.  His palms began to sweat.  *Calm
down.  She wouldn't be so relaxed and happy if she were sick,
would she?  Or is she just being brave?*

Duncan walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a
Scotch.  Downing it in a single swallow, he forced himself to relax.
*You don't know what's going on, you idiot.  Just wait for Tessa.
She'll tell you.  You know you can't rush her.*

End of Part 3

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