7 Deadly Sins series

SchuylerDuring the 10-minute drive through Des Moines back to my parents' house, I release my anger. The flood gates open; rivers of hot tears flow down my cheeks. Why is it this way? There should be two waiting rooms, one for obstetrics and another for gynecology. I'm only 23 years old; I'll endure this trauma four times a year for at least thirty years.It's hard continuing my teacher education studies and planning a future that will surround me with children when I can never have my own. My heart aches when I see others living the life I want. It's inevitable––pregnant women and children are everywhere. While at the grocery store, I see mothers shopping with little ones in the cart. When I drive by parks or walking trails, families are everywhere, some with strollers, and some with children on their shoulders.As I near my childhood home, I wipe all evidence of tears from my cheeks and take calming breaths to steady myself. In the driveway, I sit for a few minutes before exiting th

Schuyler"I'm sorry; it's been bugging me." I interrupt their teasing and motion in Dallas's direction to the guys flanking her. "I know your names are Rich and Garret, but I don't know which of you is which."Laughter fills the air. My diversion works. In my periphery, I notice Calvin looking down, a smirk upon his face.The blonde stands and extends his hand to me, his blue eyes meeting mine. "I'm Rich; I'm taller and better looking than Garret.""Dude, you're the same height," Joe jeers from across the group."You'll have to excuse Rich; his golden locks are an attempt to make up for his deficit in the brains department. I'm Garret." The man to Dallas’s left stands, offering me his hand.Dallas can't peel her eyes from him which leads me to believe she's choosing him over Rich. It's for the best. Two blondes would be much too perfect together."Rich-blonde, Garret-brains," I chant repeatedly after shaking Garret’s hand."Hey! I'm more than just my brains," Garret protests, pouting a

SchuylerStepping from my shower, I wrap my hair in a small towel on top of my head and secure another towel under my arms. I’m wiping the moisture from the large vanity mirror with a spare cloth when I hear a knock on the door.“Schuyler, your mother is on the phone,” Calvin calls through the closed door.“Come in,” I call back to him. “Can you put it on speaker on the counter for me?”He complies then leans against the open doorway.“Hi, Mom,” I greet, tightening the towel covering my chest.“Calvin seems like a perfect gentleman,” my mother swoons, unaware he can hear her.As a red blush graces his cheeks, I decide to not inform her she is on speakerphone. Knowing my mother, she’ll have much to say or, better yet, ask about him.“Dallas shared all the details this morning,” Mom continues. “I’m just calling to see what the diagnosis was.”“The doctor believes it’s a bug bite that I’m having an allergic reaction to,” I share, acutely aware that Calvin’s eyes haven’t left my towel-cove

Calvin“What are you looking at?” Schuyler asks, pointing to my phone as we enter her bungalow.“Promise you won’t get mad?” I prompt, hiding my screen from her view.“I’ll try to keep an open mind,” she states, raising her brow.“I created an Instagram account for--” I point to her still swollen cheek. “I posted the pictures I took of ‘Mo.’ The guys added some comments, and believe it or not, @MoDoesMexico now has over 200 followers.”“No way. My bug bite has 200 followers?” She smiles at me before glancing at the feed on my phone. “I should be mad that you created this account.” She gives me a small glare, but it’s half-hearted. She scrolls to the top of the feed, looks at my posted photos in order and all the comments. “How did you guys come up with all of this? You’re creative––you should write fiction or something; you have a genuine talent.”I shake my head. “It all sparked from when I referred to your bite as ‘Mo.’ After that, we fed off each other’s comments. It’s crazy, right?

CalvinMy eyes open in the dark room. It takes a moment for me to remember I’m napping in Schuyler’s room. Instantly, I’m acutely aware of her slender arm drapes across my bare chest and her long legs twine with mine. I force my breaths to remain steady so as not to wake her. The longer she sleeps, the longer I can enjoy her body snuggling with mine. Two days in Mexico have flown by. I fear I will never have my fill of Schuyler. Our relationship differs from any I’ve ever had. It’s deeper than I’ve experienced with other women, and it’s not even sexual. I can’t fathom how it might feel if we were to sleep together. I already feel my body gravitate toward her. I want to know more; I want to know everything about her.Her arm tightens around me at the same time she lifts her head from my shoulder. In the sliver of light peeking around the edges of the curtain, I see her wipe at her mouth. It’s then that I realize there’s a pool of moisture on my shoulder.“I’m sorry.” Her voice is hoars