The Switch

The big C. Who would have thought it? Thirty-four, almost thirty-five years old, and she had cervical cancer.

The doctors were positive they'd caught it early. They were confident they'd be able to treat it with 'just a hysterectomy'. Just a hysterectomy? What about another baby? While they were talking about saving her life, all she could think about was the fact she'd never be pregnant again. Never give birth. Never feel tiny, delicate fingers curling around her pinkie while she breastfed.

They spoke to her about grieving the loss of fertility, but she didn't want to talk to a counsellor. She wanted a baby. She left the surgeon's office with an appointment in two week's time, and a tight, hard feeling in her stomach.

Her phone buzzed. It was Val, asking her how her day was going. How was her day going? It was shit. It was really, really, really fucking shit. She shoved her phone in her handbag and headed back to her car. She needed to go back to work.

Val knew nothing about the pap smear result. Nothing about the tests. Nothing about her diagnosis. How would he react to her pending infertility? He was the broodiest man she'd ever come across. He craved a child. He'd made it clear, right from the beginning, that having another child was important to him.

Without a uterus, what good was she to him? She couldn't give him the sex he wanted, and soon she wouldn't be able to give him the child he wanted. She loved him. She loved him with everything she had, and yet she still didn't know if he loved her. He'd never mentioned love, only marriage and children. What was she to him?

The afternoon passed in a blur. She tried not to think too much about what was happening. She concentrated on the children. She wiped noses and bottoms, felt their sturdy, warm bodies press against hers as she read to them, and waved them good-bye as their parents came to collect them.

She walked home, collected her car, and drove to Val's house. Bella was due to go home tomorrow, and Val had taken her and Ben to the movies for their last day together.

'Hi beautiful,' Val greeted. 'The kids are in the back yard sitting underneath the sprinkler.'

She kissed him listlessly.

'Is everything okay?' he asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

She forced herself to smile. 'I'm fine. I, uh... I'm fine.'

Tears sprang to her eyes. No more babies. No more children. And an operation - how was she physically going to cope with the recovery?

'Aimee?' he said cautiously, touching her arm. 'What's wrong?'

'I have cancer,' she mewled. 'They're going to give me a hysterectomy.'

He stared at her in shock. 'Oh shit. Does that mean you won't be able to have kids?'

'What the fuck do you think it means?' she spat, fresh tears springing from her eyes. 'Goddamn you. I'm going to get Ben and go.'

She wiped her eyes and walked out the back. Ben was sitting under the sprinkler, not in his bathers,, but in his good shorts. What had he been thinking? He knew they weren't clothes he should be getting wet.

'Ben,' she yelled. 'Ben!'

'Mum! You should go home. Come back and get me later. I don't want to go home.'

'Ben, I'm absolutely serious, you get here right now.'

'No.'

'Ben!'

'No.' He turned his back. 'I'm not going home.'

'Fine. You know what?' she asked. 'You like it here so much, stay here. I'm going.'

She was openly sobbing as she walked around the house and towards her car. Valery saw her leaving, and jogged after her. He grabbed her by the arm.

'Aimee,' he implored. 'Don't go.'

Oh, would you just fuck off?' she spat. 'Go and find the next candidate for having your baby, and have the sixteen million kids you want.'

'What about you? Don't leave. Don't leave over this. Come on, come inside. Talk to me.'

She shook her arm free. 'I told you to fuck off.'

Ben came running up, a worried look on his face. 'I thought you were going to leave without me,' he said breathlessly.

'Get in the car,' she demanded.

'I need to say good-bye to Bella. She's going home tomorrow.'

'Then for fuck's sake, go and say good-bye!' she yelled. 'Go and say good-bye, then get in the goddamn fucking car.'

Ben slunk back, scared. 'Okay, okay. Don't be mad, Mum. I'll go and say good-bye.'

Aimee got in the driver's seat, leant her head against the steering wheel, and sobbed. When had been the last time she'd sat in her car and cried? Miles' house. That very first time she'd gone to one of his 'parties'. She'd gone to her car and cried, just as she was doing now. It was a mess. A huge, fucking mess.

Val hovered uneasily by the door. He had no idea what to do. She wished he'd go. She didn't want to talk to him. She continued to weep, and he continued to stand anxiously beside her, until Ben returned.

'I'm back,' he said. He paused and took a good look at her. 'Are you crying?'

'No,' she said. 'Well, yes. I hurt my arm. It's okay. Get in the car.'

Ben got in the car without a word. Aimee pulled the driver side door shut, putting a thick metal wedge between her and Valery. She didn't look up as she put the car into reverse and released the park brake. She didn't want to see his face.

On the way home, Ben asked if everything was okay.

'It's fine,' she said. 'I'm sorry I snapped. I hurt myself at work today.'

'Maybe you should see a doctor,' he said helpfully.

It was a nice thought, but even if she had hurt herself, the last people she wanted to see were medical professionals.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Bella stood beside Valery in her togs, water dripping from her hair onto the hot, sunburned grass. Mister Jim sidled up and sat at their feet.

'She's mean,' Bella said flatly. 'Why are your girlfriends always mean?'

Val shook her head. 'She's not mean. She's sick.'

'There you go, making excuses,' Bella said. 'Excuses, excuses. You let them do whatever they want to you and I. It's a pity. I liked Ben.'

She turned around and went back to the backyard, to the sprinklers. There was no point arguing with her, or trying to explain. What had just transpired was more than a woman merely being mean. It was something altogether more devastating.

Val remained standing in the front yard, trying to remember what Aimee had told him. She had cancer. Did that mean she might die? Would she have chemo? Radiation? Were chemo and radiation even different things, or were they just different names for the same procedure?

Oh fuck. She'd left him. He loved her so much it hurt. How could she throw this away? Sure, not having a baby with her would be disappointing. He'd wanted so badly to see her pregnant, to know how it felt to have a baby kick from inside the womb, and drive her to hospital so she could give birth. He'd wanted to experience nappies and sleepless nights with her. He'd wanted to have a child and be secure in the knowledge that it would call him 'Dad' and live in the same house as him. Mostly, though, what he'd wanted was Aimee.

He went inside and found his phone. He tried calling her, twice, but it went to messagebank both times. He left her a message the second time, asking her to call him, before going out the back to check on Bella.

His daughter seemed unfazed by Aimee's departure. That was his fault, he acknowledged. He'd put up with Linda's bullshit, even when it was affecting Bella. He'd made excuses for Linda; she was stressed, she was tired, she was worried about something at work. He relied on the smothering, crushing depression that had plagued him over the course of their relationship, as a reason for not doing more. The truth was, he'd failed Bella. He hadn't protected her from his partner. It was little wonder that Bella was now happy to wash her hands of Aimee.

Pink Panther wandered past him. He watched the cat with narrowed eyes, waiting to see what the Ginger Tom was up to. Catching birds, by the looks of things. His body was low to the ground as he stalked a brown and yellow bird, and his tail was swishing. Valery looked up and saw the man who lived across the road glaring at him. No doubt he was looking at Pink Panther and wondering how long it would be until the animal dumped a bird's corpse on his doorstep.

Valery lunged at his cat, who took off like a bolt of lightning. The feline scurried underneath one of the many hedges and glared out at his owner. Val bent down, tried to retrieve the cat, and was rewarded with a scratch. He swore at the cat, yelling out all matter of obscenities. Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. All of his rage and confusion and anger came out, and it didn't stop until the cat darted away. Then Val stood up, brushed the dust off his shorts, and went inside.

That night, he and Bella ate their last dinner together in near silence. It was so weird without Ben and Aimee, and he was distracted by his phone. Every time it beeped or buzzed, he checked it, hoping to find a missive from the woman he loved.

'We should go to the movies together,' Bella suggested tentatively.

'It's late,' Val pointed out. 'Seven o'clock.'

She rolled her eyes. 'I stayed up until two am on New Year's Eve.'

He laughed despite himself. His parents would never have let he or his siblings stay up that late at her age. They'd softened a lot when it came to their grandchildren.

'Alright,' he agreed. 'Go and get your shoes. We'll watch a movie.'

It would be months before he saw his daughter again. He may as well spend some quality time with her, rather than wasting it pondering on love lost all evening. Aimee might just need some time to calm down. Rationalise. Realise that he did, in fact, love her beyond measure.

~~~~~~~~~~~

She was still ignoring him two weeks after she left him blindsided on his front lawn with the news she had cancer, and no longer wanted him. Why was she ignoring him? Was she okay? He had absolutely no way of knowing, and it was killing him. Val flicked through his personal phone for what felt like the millionth time, praying for a missed text or Facebook message.

The screen on his phone was still shattered, and he ran a thumb over it, feeling for rough edges. So far, it was still okay. That was good, because he didn't have the money to get it fixed, and he'd just been called in to a meeting with the State Manager. He had a feeling in the pit of his stomach he was about to get fired.

Once upon a time he'd actually been offered the state manager's position for a rival company. But, in came Linda, full of reasons why he shouldn't take it, and he'd bowed to her arguments. He'd regretted the decision the minute he turned the offer down. Those opportunities didn't come along regularly.

'Stop stressing Val,' Gavin said, slapping his shoulder. 'Mike's here. It's time to talk.'

Valery sighed and shoved his phone in his pocket. Might as well get this over and done with. That way he could be unemployed and single, all within the one week.

Only, that was not what happened. Mike was retiring, Gavin was taking his position, and Val was being offered Gavin's position. It was a nice little promotion. He'd get a good pay rise, a company credit card and a few extra little perks.

'So what do you think?' Mike asked.

'It seems like a lot of extra work for not a lot of extra money,' he replied carefully. 'Is there any wiggle room?'

Mike shrugged. 'There could be. What would you be after?'

Val named a figure off the top of his head. It seemed ridiculously high, but he'd worked in sales long enough to know it was best to aim for the moon. If you aimed for the moon and fell short, you hit the stars. If you aimed for the stars and fell short, you hit the lamppost. If you aimed for the lamppost and fell short, you hit the ground. Who had told him that mantra? It seemed a lifetime ago that he'd learned it, and yet still he repeated it to himself at work on almost a daily basis.

Half an hour later, he had his promotion and almost all of the pay rise he'd asked for. He'd be sent interstate for more training the following week. The day he returned, he'd officially start in his new role.

They went to the pub to celebrate. The drinks came flowing. Mike made mention of the fact that everyone knew Valery would do well, even if he was still unmarried and without kids, and therefore perceived to be something of a risk. Gavin alluded to his depression. Both Mike and Gavin patted themselves on the back for managing to convince senior management Valery was worth the risk.

Fuck it was hard to smile. He really, really, didn't want to smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'I hear congratulations are in order.'

Valery glanced up and came face to face with Linda. It didn't surprise him in the slightest that she was on an interstate work trip the same week as he. She had an incredible career, and was always flying somewhere, doing something.

Nor did it surprise him that she was in a gentleman's club at eleven thirty on a Thursday evening. She didn't have any moral objections to strippers. If her male colleagues were going to look at some titties, she made sure she went with them. She wouldn't allow them to do any male bonding without her present, because she knew that that would be the first step to them forgetting who she was, and what she was capable with.

'Thanks,' Val said. He sipped at is vodka. He was a stereotype in that regard. 'What are you doing in Sydney?'

'Work beckoned,' she replied, gesturing to two men who were getting a little too close to a girl in her late teens. 'That's our CEO and CFO. Do you find it surprising that a CFO is here? They're never usually the type, are they?'

'No,' he agreed.

'Do you mind if I sit down?'

He gestured to the table. His prospective client had gone to the bathroom to take a leak. Val doubted he'd care if he returned to find a busty blonde woman sitting at their table.

'I need to apologise about your girlfriend,' Linda said. 'It was out of line.'

'She's not my girlfriend. She broke things off last week.'

Linda met his gaze. He didn't flinch.

'I'm sorry to hear that,' she said. 'I thought for sure that was the one you'd end up having three or four fair-skinned babies with.'

'Nope.' Val replied. There was no way he was telling her about the cancer. That was too personal. Too terrifying. At night he laid in his hotel room, wondering how she was coping. Wishing she'd communicate with him.

Linda leant over the table and stroked his face. He realised she was drunk. She was one of those women who could really hold it together when she'd been drinking, but the telltale signs were still there if you knew what to look for.

'You will always remain the most incredible lover I've ever had,' she whispered.

Oh fuck. Talk about the night going downhill. Underneath the table, Linda rubbed her foot against his crotch. His cock reacted, but his brain didn't. There was nothing left between him and Linda. He'd sacrificed his career for her. Spent countless hours running around after her girls. Done everything she'd ever requested of him.

And what had she given him? She'd picked up men and slept with them in their bed, relegating Val to the guest bedroom. Accused him of molesting her daughters. Told him his contribution to the household wasn't worth shit, so that when she left him, he was left with nothing to show for over four years of helping pay the mortgage. To top it all off, she'd told everyone that he'd had an affair with Casey.

'You want me,' she said knowingly.

Thank fuck they were in a strip club and there was plenty of opportunity to explain why his cock was hard. Linda would never buy the excuse 'it's just reacting to stimulation', even though that's all it was. Val glanced to his left. A busty brunette was making her way towards them, no doubt looking to see if he was interested in a private dance. Linda followed his gaze.

'That's what's getting me going,' he lied.

The brunette approached the table as the same time Val's prospective client returned. Val turned to him with a grin.

'Want to book that bird for a private dance?' Val asked.

Of course the man did.

The expression on Linda's face as they followed the woman to a back room was one of defeat. Age, and her actions, were catching up with her. She could no longer rely on her sexuality to control men. Val, who was ordinarily quite empathetic, might have sympathised if he hadn't been acutely aware of how badly the stupid bitch had fucked with him.

They went to the room and had their dances. Val didn't understand the appeal of strippers. Sure, they got you hard, but so what? Plenty of women could get him hard. Linda's fucking foot could get him hard. He wasn't a fussy man. What mattered - what had always mattered - was being with someone who'd fuck him, and then stay around afterwards for a cuddle.

'I'm shattered,' Val's companion remarked.

'You ready to leave?'

'Sure man. You?'

Val was ready. He had a red eye flight the next morning, and he knew he'd be expected at work when he arrived back.

He saw the man safely into a taxi, then made his way back to his hotel. He wasn't drunk. No matter how much the girls at the clubs tried to feed him, he was always cautious with his drinks. What he was, in fact, was hungry, but there was no twenty-four hour room service here, so he settled himself with a Mars Bar, container of Pringles and bag of nuts.

Val stripped off, packed his bags for the flight home, and laid on the bed. He restlessly toyed with his cock. It was an utterly shit feeling to look into your future and see nothing but endless masturbation ahead of you, moreso when you'd just been in a relationship with someone who'd given you some quality loving.

He thought about the day he'd first met Aimee. Her shyness. Her fear that he was going to find her ugly. No, no, that was the wrong think to be thinking of. He needed to remember the times when she was bold and fearless and took what she wanted. The blow job in the movie theatre. The hand job she'd given him in Miles' kitchen, when she had several fingers wedged in his ass.

He'd thought he'd made a pretty decent sticky date pudding that night, especially given the oven timer had shat itself, but the desserts had barely been touched. What had been the deal with that? Had his taste been off?

At any rate, it'd felt so good being bent over the bench and finger-fucked. She'd paid one hell of a lot of attention to what he wanted in bed. She was cautious at times, sure, but she also took risks. He should have appreciated her more. He should have told her he loved her.

Should he ring her now? It was the middle of the night. Twelve twenty pm to be precise. She'd be asleep, and he guessed she wouldn't want to be woken to a phone call from an ex-boyfriend, apologising to her for not telling her he loved her.

He read through the texts she'd sent him. They'd both been so polite with each other in the early weeks. So careful. She'd broken that mould, though, by sending him that photo of her tits. He glanced at the picture. God she had a good set on her. What he wouldn't do to fuck her chest again.

A few nights before she'd dumped him, he'd texted her, late at night, complaining about being horny. She'd told him to strip naked and touch himself with his right hand. He was left handed, and she knew it. She'd wanted him to experience the awkwardness of masturbating with using his non dominant hand.

She'd sent him a few more texts after that with more instructions; touch your nipples. Bring yourself close, but stop short, wait five minutes, and start again. Send me a photo when you're done. He'd followed every instruction to the letter. He was an obedient man, and he liked being told what to do in bed. He doubted she knew what type of game she was playing, but he'd enjoyed it all the same.

He realised his hand was on his length, and he was halfway to orgasm. He rolled off the bed and strolled around the room, cock in hand, giving himself a rub as he prowled the studio apartment. He could cum anywhere he wanted. Shoot his load on anything he desired.