Once again, Sophia was up before me, making breakfast. If that was our new normal, I could get used to it very quickly. It’s not that I tired of cooking every meal, but I loved seeing her follow through with all her plans recently. I didn’t doubt she would, but sims often made promises to change their lives and failed to follow through. Hell, I couldn’t even follow through with waking up early to cook breakfast when she was working. She was such an inspiration, always pushing me to be better without even realizing it.
Before I could sit down to eat my fruit salad and ask how she was, she began rambling like sims do when they get nervous. She jumped from subject to subject, trying not to let any silence seep through. I tried my best to keep up for her sake, knowing she wanted to think about anything other than what went on in her body. She was so animated, like a toddler on a sugar high, and initially I sympathized with her. But after a while, I recognized I needed a distraction too. We were both a little on edge about the doctor’s appointment in a few hours. I don’t know how we got any sleep last night with that on the brain.
Sophia talked and talked and talked until she couldn’t take it anymore.
“I sound crazy,” she said. “Do I sound crazy? I’m gonna wash my hair.”
She dashed to the bathroom before I could even offer a rebuttal. The bathroom door clicked behind her, and the faucet squeaked as she turned on the water. A pang of sadness tugged at my heart as I thought of what she must feel in there. Should I go with her? Did she need to be alone? Wouldn’t it be better if we distracted each other? The sound of the shower water hypnotized me for a while before realizing I too needed to busy myself until to leave, so I tended to the money tree and bathed the dogs.
Silence filled the air like a dense fog on our way back home. The doctor’s confirmation left our emotions in ruins. She diagnosed Sophia with low fertility, saying it would be extremely hard to get pregnant but not impossible. We just needed time Sophia didn’t have. I tried to take comfort in the slight possibility, but the reality of it tried to crush the remnant of hope I had left. Sophia buried herself under the covers as soon as we arrived at home. Her muffled sobs echoed through the house, and an avalanche of sorrow tried to overtake me. I wanted to console her, to cradle her in my arms and reassure her, but I felt lost and couldn’t find the words because I was also broken. She probably needed the space anyway, so I left her alone and tried to sort myself out.
