Operation **Reclaim** Loveland

She Chased Me

By late December I had settled into a rhythm. I became much more comfortable being alone. I didn’t really entertain anybody, so the living room, which was pretty substantial had sat empty. I was tired of doing my laundry next door, so I started washing it by hand, and I ran clothes lines across my living room to dry my clothes. It is so hard to get the lines tight enough.

I ate a lot of ramen noodles, and other pastas. They were cheap and easy- like me.

I was also having the worst ovarian cysts of my life. There was about a week out of the month where it felt like I was walking around with a serrated spear in my pelvis, turning every time I breathe. When I started having cysts, my menstrual cramps got far worse as well, for another week out of the month. My periods got very heavy, and would drag on for well over the week, sometimes having an entire second round of bleeding.

I couldn’t afford insurance, or any medical assistance. I had been told that this was just going to be part of me being alive, and I accepted that this pain was part of paying my dues for being here until I die, just like my joint pain, and carpel tunnel.

Each month I could see my veins cave in, as I became dehydrated and my blood supply leaked into my body cavity. Blood that’s just loose in your body cavity is actually pretty irritating to your other organs. I’d usually run a fever before everything settled back down.

My bosses never knew, because I couldn’t afford to be a liability.

I needed to be tough. I was supposed to be tough. My whole family was happy to tell me how they did not actually believe me to be very tough, so I couldn’t let them be right. I needed to stop feeling sorry for myself, and just deal with it like an adult.

The Son of a Witch next door still stopped by, and he had my open and ongoing consent, but it was really just quickies, and not very exciting or fulfilling. Human contact felt nice though, and it was certainly more than I’d been accustomed to for the majority of my marriage.

Christmas approached, and I found out that I was approved to be in the next CNA class. That was really all I had wanted for Christmas. It would be a raise that just came with the competence, that I didn’t have to negotiate for. It was also a promotion, and in the back of my mind I still had this notion that I could make my mom proud, so I was extremely invested in the opportunity.

A few days before Christmas, my niece was born, and I knew that it was unlikely I would ever have a relationship with her. I hoped that my brother was finding peace without me there.

Christmas came and I celebrated with the Witches next door. There were a few gifts and I was really touched. I hadn’t expected anything other than to work through it like I had Thanksgiving.

Work always makes you feel wanted on the holidays.

My family made no attempt to contact me in any way. I didn’t let it hurt. It was just something that I’d be getting used to, something I had accepted as the cost of my freedom. Something I had earned.

January came, CNA classes started, and my favorite CNA returned. Everyone was very hush hush about her disappearance. I had asked at one point and was told she was on a medical leave, right after she had started. Whatever. I was super tickled to have her back. She’d been gone for quite a while, and I really didn’t think she’d be coming back.

I was about two weeks into CNA class and in the middle of class she just walked in to talk to the instructor about getting some papers signed. She walked in the room, already talking to the instructor from the hallway, without any thought that it might be an interruption to something already going on. (Would you believe me if I told you that was part of her charm?)

Before she could finish what she was saying she noticed me sitting there and fell silent and just stopped, and I blushed, and everyone noticed. I said how excited I was to see her, and she flashed her smile, and appraised me.

The instructor, flagged her attention down, and they were able to say what was needed about the papers. The instructor called for our attention as she started again, and my crush hung out by the door for a moment, just watching me, and smiling, while I blushed and pretended not to notice.

My in-class bestie definitely noticed. I blushed more.

She had a magnificent smile, and a genuine laugh. She was so pretty and one of the very few Hispanics I’d seen in the state. She was good at her job. She was quick, but also gentle. She connected with absolutely every resident, except one, but we’ll get to that later.

When she walked in patient rooms they lit up. Naughty, knowing smiles would cross their faces.

She wasn’t afraid to tell them the occasional dirty joke.

She was forceful and gentle, like a force of nature. She only stood 5′ tall, so it took a certain amount of elbow grease to get people out of bed, or roll them over. She cared about where they hurt, and had very specific ways that she would approach each patient.

She could get the most combative patients to cooperate, and usually had them laughing by the time she was done. Charm is such a lackluster term for the magic that flowed from her.

I was mesmerized by her, and her return definitely inspired me to step up my game. On the nights we both worked, that place ran like a dream. The extra time meant that there were longer smoke breaks, which we took together.

She was smoother than the cream cheese on your bagel, and we both loved to flirt. I’ve never really thought of an innuendo that I didn’t want to voice. She was married, but that didn’t stop us from saying all of the things that could get a person in trouble.

She was clearly intrigued by me. I would later understand that she was accustomed to seducing unhappy straight wives. There weren’t a lot of openly identifying bisexuals in this town.

Every smoke break became an opportunity to entice, entreat, entertain and enthrall.

She didn’t seem very concerned about the fact that she was married and she didn’t do much to conceal her open contempt for her husband.

I was beyond curious, but also very happy to get information in savory little morsels that occupied my thoughts until I saw her again. She thought I was pretty, and smart, and competent, and funny. I loved working with her so much, and her days off were torture.

She worked a 4 on 2 off rotation. Those two days came too fast every week.

We weren’t crossing any lines, but we were certainly making it extremely tempting to do so. I was just enjoying being able to say things that came to mind without being punished for it.

It was nice to feel liked and wanted. I was nice to see somebody blush when I caught her blatantly wanting me. It definitely made my work shifts fly by.

I was still pretty crushed, but the pain was just becoming part of my baseline, and feeling special helped too. There was nothing actually happening between us, so I didn’t see any need to interfere with the plans that had already been in place with the Son of a Witch.

The New Year was off to a fine start, and it finally felt like the chaos of the previous year had settled. I felt hopeful again. It was nothing that my mom would approve of, but I was relatively happy.

Admittedly, the Son of a Witch had somehow gotten worse at sex, and it had gotten to the point that I often didn’t wake up until after he was done, because I was working 7 days a week between my CNA classes and night laundry shifts.

I didn’t mind, and I want it to be super clear that he had my ongoing consent. It was super casual. He never once acted possessive or jealous in any way. I wasn’t lying to anybody.

Toward the very end of January, I started having some issues with my balance. I realized that I’d been running my self pretty ragged. I was pretty sure adding a few vegetables and proteins, hydration, and sleep would set me right.

It did not get better.

I was stumbling, and bumping into doorframes. I couldn’t seem to turn a corner without bumping into a wall. I was spilling stuff all of the time. It felt like my center of gravity shifted, and I was trying to go two directions at the same time.

One night I was hanging out with The Old Witch at the restaurant where she worked as a line cook. She had come in during off hours to clean the hood, and I decided to bring it up to her. I told her about my balance and coordination.

She stopped what she was doing, looked me directly in they eye and said, “Are you trying to tell me my son hasn’t been wearing a raincoat?”

Are you and your partner on the SAME TEAM?

She was assertive, and also supportive. The only man I had ever had relations with who was willing to use a condom was that one debate judge.

I had to say that while I was not trying to tell her that, it was nevertheless true. I was at least curious about the association she had made.

She said that was always how she had known with hers, and she had 3. She also said it usually got better by the end of the first trimester.

I would definitely need to take a test. I was broke, and scared, and had no medical care, and needed the full time job I had, and I was also sure that I would figure it out.

I tried very hard not to allow myself to be excited. It was inappropriate. What business did I have even thinking about having a baby?

I had always wanted to be a mom. I wanted to do things differently. I wanted to listen to my children, and help them through the trials and tribulations of growing up. I wanted to comfort them, and teach them. I desperately wanted somewhere to put all of the love in me that had nowhere to go.

I didn’t dare hope that I was pregnant, except that from the time the possibility left The Old Witch’s lips, it was all I wanted, and all I could think about, and in even thinking of taking the test, I was afraid it would be negative.

I was afraid it would be negative, and I would have to act relieved, when really I would be heartbroken. I wasn’t trying to get pregnant. Most of the time, I wasn’t even all that awake when I was having sex those days. I also wasn’t trying not to get pregnant. I didn’t have any access to birth control and couldn’t afford to buy condoms that he wouldn’t use anyhow.

I didn’t really have any time to just sit with the idea, because in the same moment I knew it was possible, so did his mom. I hadn’t even missed a period, but some months I had double periods which also made it difficult to track.

I confided in my work besties, my crush CNA, and the other nightshift CNA-in-training who I knew from class. It was certainly a point of interest, and their humor and support really helped me feel less alone. My crush offered to buy me the pregnancy test when we got off work.

She also told me I wasn’t allowed to pee after midnight, so by the time we got out of there at 6:30 I was definitely ready to douse the stick. We got to the grocery store, which didn’t open until 7, so we sat in her van and waited, and flirted, and talked about how nervous I was.

There was a lot of blushing, and averted gazes, and innuendos, and a screaming urge to pee.

The store finally opened, we located the sticks, except that we didn’t locate the sticks, we located a sign saying that you had to ask an associate to get one of the sticks for you. Thankfully, I wasn’t too concerned about my privacy. It might have been because I still had to make it to my cabin before I could go pee.

We checked out, and as she drove us to my cabin, I read the directions. I ran up the stairs without dribbling and grabbed a cup from the kitchen, because that’s what the stick demanded!

I peed.

In the cup. In the toilet. On my hand. In my panties. On the seat, and probably down the front of the toilet too.

My crush was outwardly amused, as I got cleaned up, and followed the rest of the directions about soaking the stick and testing my patience.

I sat on the bottom of my bed, and looked up nervously. She asked how long we needed to wait, and I said 5 minutes.

She walked toward me slowly, deliberately, holding my eyes in her gaze like a huntress of the night zeroing in on her prey. The moment was thick with my nerves, and hopes, and desire.

It was an impossibly perfect moment.

I couldn’t believe I had her alone, all to myself, after all of the days I couldn’t stop thinking about her. She was right there, not ten feet away from me, not just the hope that I’d see her every day when I got ready for work.

Here she was, smiling with her sparkling teeth, and her crooked lip, that was so damn sexy, walking toward me, with nothing to do but kill the next few minutes. She was still wearing her signature Broncos bomber jacket, and I couldn’t blame her, it was really cold in there. I hadn’t turned on the propane since I got home. I must have been distracted.

I looked up at her as she stood right before me (she was short, so I wasn’t looking up that much), and she reached up with both hands, gently moving my hair away from my neck. My breathing skipped.

She moved her face next to mine, with her fingers holding the back of my head and neck, and her thumbs gently moving over my cheek bones.

She whispered, “I’m going to kiss you now,” and she moved to sit next to me on the bottom of the bed at the same time.

As our lips met, the bedframe gave out, and crashed to the floor sending us flying. I was no longer so proud that I had put it together “all by myself.”

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