“Mayyyybe.” In truth, I don’t know. I stopped keeping track of my period the day my tubes were tied. I mean, I always have an estimated idea of when my next one is due, but since my last child, my period has never really been exact, and I finally just gave up worrying about whether or not I was pregnant because I haven’t gotten pregnant in thirteen years.
I mean, I know it’s been a few weeks. But has it been three or four? I dunno! Every once in a while, my cycle falls around the sixth of the month. Other times, it falls around the fifteenth. Which is it now? I don’t know!
“I feel like you should be bleeding by now.”
“Well…yesterday my back was killing me. Today my boobs hurt. My stomach’s fucked up and I can’t sleep. So maybe soon?”
“Or maybe I’m pregnant,” I said sardonically.
“No babies! No babies! No babies!” he yelled, in his best game show voice.
“Yeah, that’s one abortion I’ll pay for,” I reply.
“You’ll do what I tell you,” he retorts. “So just don’t get pregnant.”
P.S. This is mostly a joke. Yes, I was a little late, but we’re talking days, not weeks, and M and me were mostly just fucking with each other.
P.P.S I started my period later that day. No babies!