Free Art Ache by Lucy Arthurs

happened ‘down there’ after the obstetrician had done his fancy patchwork, I was pleasantly surprised by the result, but it seems a bit . . .
    GP
    Higher than it was?
    ME
    Yes!
    GP
    Very common.
    I love this woman! I didn’t feel this was the sort of subject I could raise at mothers’ group or with my sister, but somehow it seems completely appropriate to blurt it out in front of a friendly GP who I’ve just met.
    GP
    Buy a dildo and re-familiarise yourself with your vagina, my dear. It’s been very good to you. It’s given you a beautiful son, so be patient. A dildo will help you regain your confidence and you’ll be ready when the time comes.
    ME
    You think so?
    GP
    I know so. In the meantime, I’m giving you a prescription for anti-depressants. If you feel you need to fill it, then fill it, but I think you’ll be okay. See how you go.
    I’ll order the dildo online, but I’m not sure about the anti-depressants. My sister thinks I should embrace them with open arms. A big believer in the chemical fix for any problem, big or small, hence her choice to tell everyone at the airport that I’m a potential drug user. Oh well, just another of life’s disappointments.
    I shrug it off as I go back to the car. I try to push my soon-to-be-ex-husband out of my mind only to be flooded with images of Jack. He’s having his first sleepover at his dad’s. How odd. It’s only been three weeks and already Tom has set up house in his metrosexual bachelor pad. He’d obviously been planning this for some time.
    I shake my head to try to remove the images of his new, single life. I don’t want this to be happening. I want to be a family. A mum, dad, and kid living in the same house type of family. I don’t want to be an uber-modern family, but now it seems it’s been thrust upon me.
    I feel the anxiety creeping up my chest as I imagine all the things that could go wrong. Tom won’t give Jack enough attention. He’ll feed him junk food. He’ll leave one of the doors unlocked and Jack will wander off. He’ll . . .
    Breathe, Persephone. Breathe. This is your new reality. But I don’t want the reality, I argue back to the voice in my head. I feel like soliloquising right there on my way back to the car. Bursting into a stream of consciousness speak, talking to myself, trying to work out my thoughts and feelings. But I don’t. Instead, I remind myself that this is real. I have to deal with it. This isn’t some scene from a play. This is my life.
    I also remind myself that I have my healthy boundaries in place, and now I just have to honour them. Marjory said I could ring once to say goodnight, which I’ve already done, and then once in the morning to say good morning. Only another 12 hours to go.
    I try to put Tom and Jack out of my mind by thinking about the rehearsal process for my play. It starts on Monday. Exciting. Just have to get through the rest of today and then Jack will be back tomorrow. We can spend the day together and then I can drop him to daycare and attend rehearsals. It’s an honour to have a play produced in a main house season by a theatre company. The significance of it is not lost on me, although the timing could be better. I wish it wasn’t coinciding with the breakdown of my marriage.
    The play. Think about the play, Persephone. That’s part of your reality. As we know, Boofhead’s directing it. The less said about that, the better. The cast is strong so that’s a real positive. The gorgeous actor is in it, the one my sister suggests I have an affair with. Although I have no desire for sex at the moment, I do feel reassured that there’s nothing permanently wrong with my vagina. And the gorgeous actor is . . . gorgeous. There’s no harm in daydreaming.
    I’ve known him for years, since I was 21. I remember inviting him to my 21 st . We were both in a big community musical organised by a group of funky lefties who managed to convince lots of people to donate their time to perform in huge