Page 106 of Sex Positive

Despite the brisk January chill, bright mid-morning sun warms the sidewalk.

She and Wes woke two hours earlier, her with a sudden inescapable heat building between her legs, and she realized he too was awake when her backside rubbed his hard erection and his fingers began a torturous descent to the apex of her thighs. After another blissful shattering, she told him she needed to head to the clinic to getsomework done that day. He tried valiantly to convince her to stay in bed, and she appreciated his attempts.

No lingering insecurity remains. The fumbling nervousness she always imagined would mar her first time wasn’t there, and maybe that’s because of who they are together, the ease and comfort she no longer wants to deny.

He relented, letting her go, asking if he could come over later.

“If you want me to,” he said, his cheeks tinged pink with what she realized were nerves.

She did want him to, and she told him so.

She feels lighter than she has in weeks, ormonths, or maybe ever. Her footsteps are buoyed with optimism and hope and a clarity that what she’s doing is right. What she’s doing with the expo willwork.

This feeling isn’t only because of Wes. But she won’t deny that he’s part of it.

A siren wails as a fire truck rolls past. She thinks nothing of it until it slows and parks outside the clinic’s main entrance.

Charlie freezes in the middle of the sidewalk, her body tilting on an axis. With slow, deliberate steps, she walks the remaining few feet to where a small crowd is gathered, observing as firefighters dressed in full gear climb down from their truck and barrel through the doors. A police officer holds back the crowd, his cruiser’s blue and white lights flashing. A slim woman in a white beanie and a gray parka stands a little off to the side, hugging herself.

Numbly, Charlie excuses her way through the crowd. When she reaches the woman, she taps her gently on the shoulder.

Victoria turns, her face streaked with tears.

“Oh, Charlie.” She grasps her hand as another tear slips down her cheek.

Charlie stares at her grief-stricken face. “What happened?”

Thirty

“An electrical fire?”

Three hours later, Charlie and Victoria sit in a café one street over from the clinic, each with an untouched drink in front of her. Victoria’s face is lined with exhaustion, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail. She got the call at seven a.m. and rushed over before she’d even had her morning coffee.

“Are they sure?” Charlie continues. “It wasn’t a protestor or something?” She knows abortion clinics across the US have been the targets of bomb threats over the last several decades, and some of those threats were horrifyingly real.

Victoria nods. “Positive. The fire inspector said it was a faulty outlet in the lab.” At Charlie’s dubious expression, she shrugs. “Unfortunately, these things happen sometimes.” She smiles wryly. “Some might argue it’s the will of god.”

Charlie frowns. “But you don’t think so.”

Victoria smiles sadly. “No, I don’t.”

They both slump, defeated.

The fire department said the main damage was in the lab, which is now entirely nonfunctional. While the examination rooms were largely spared, the smoke damage is enough that it will take weeks, if not months, to repair and remodel. As they waited for the firefighters to finish up, she called Wes and told him what happened. He asked if he could do anything, but she said he couldn’t.Shedidn’t even know what to do. Carolyn and Diana asked if she wanted them to stop by, but she told them she’d text them later with a plan.

Whatever that entails.

“What now?” Charlie finally asks the question she’s been dreading for three hours.

Victoria heaves a sigh, her palms wrapped around her large coffee mug. “Our insurance will cover the cost of repairs, and we have an additional policy that’ll help cover lost income.” She glances at Charlie. “It includes payment for staff, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

“I’m not,” Charlie interrupts. “What about the patients?”

“They’ll have to find care somewhere else for the time being. We won’t know how much it will cost to repair everything until the insurance company sends over their claims adjuster to determine how much we’ll receive for damages. Then we won’t know long it will take to make sure everything is up to code. It’s—” She massages her temple. “It’s a mess, Charlie. Plus the board wants to have a conference call in an hour to talk about whether or not it’s worth reopening or if we should just cut our losses and—”

“No,” Charlie snaps, clenching her fingers around her own mug. “They can’t sell because of this.”

Victoria studies her. “I don’t know, Charlie.”