“So before you go; Was there something I coulda said to make your heart beat better?”

I stare out at the beauty of our backyard, listening to mainstream pop radio. Serene and simple. A bonfire pit is ready for a lit match. Vertical stripes highlight the direction of the previous mowing. Aged lumber peaks through brick red staining on the deck like skinned knees. Four large plastic terracotta-colored flower pots hold tomato vines and the Portulacas in wood troughs on the deck railing begin to close for the day. As I sit on one of five chairs belonging to the outside patio set, I look around. Kenzie rolls in the grass, alternating between her back and tummy. She smiles, then sneezes, and watches the birds that fly low enough to catch, but just fast enough to tease her.

It could be any summer day. Today, is a weekday and it should be dinnertime. Once upon a time, it was and we fell into a routine.

I organized my planned meal, according to a diligently-recorded food journal. He, played a few more minutes of a video game before switching to a binge-worthy TV show. Then, heated up leftovers. When we finished our separate dishes and an episode, we strolled around the neighborhood with our sweet low-rider, Kenzie. We talked about our day, upcoming plans, past memories, happenings in the news, or issues between us.

On June 23, we walked through the oppressive heat, comparing it to our memories of Bangkok, which offered no breeze to its brutal humidity, even at night. As we rounded the corner, I broached a familiar topic, careful to control my tone. Playfully, I asked when sex might return to our shared bed and offered timeframes: January 2028? Autumn 2025?

A last intimate moment had occurred roughly five months ago and I missed him. Despite my ongoing advances – including minutes before tonight’s dinner – he rarely showed interest. He reminded me he it was a moot subject unless he was relaxed, plus the long-suffering heatwave repelled stimulation.

He remained quiet and I reminded him we don’t have to stay together. Couples break up all the time. It was not what I wanted, but I couldn’t help but feel responsible for our lack of intimacy. My body had changed. Menopause added weight making me feel undesirable and Fatty Liver Disease wore me down. Despite twice weekly trips to workout with my trainer and support system; working with a nutritionist, and taking on weekly yin and restorative yoga classes, he frequently reminded me of the summer when I walked eight miles (sixteen-thousand steps) each day.

I, too, wanted to be that Brandy again, but my body prevented it. Between low-back and left hip spasms, an intolerant left shoulder, and a left Achilles heel that often gave an interlude of “hold my beer,” I couldn’t feasibly walk more than four-thousand steps at a time without afterward having an intense and passionate embrace with ice packs.

“Are you still happy?” I asked.

“YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSS,” he enunciated with an over-exaggerated and bored sigh.

“No. Don’t give me that tone. I don’t ask you all the time. It’s a question. The answer could have changed.”

We walk the remaining distance in silence.

Upon our return to the house, I hemorrhaged sweat – dripping from unimaginable places. With a straight shot to a cold shower, I stopped for no one and threw myself in. Minutes later, wrapped in a towel, I entered our bedroom where he stood naked with his back pressed against the window unit as it blasted frigid manufactured air.

He approached me and flirted, still not aroused.

“I get it,” I admitted with defeat. “It’s fine. It’s alright. You’re right, it’s too damn hot.”

He hugged me and kissed me on the lips. We stood in our embrace for just a few minutes more.

Dinnertime has since lost its meaning. I don’t have an appetite and no longer have standard meals, certainly not past lunchtime. Evening strolls have become morning walks in which Kenzie and I average eight-thousand steps. My liver has reversed itself to its former glory, and my primary care doctor gave me the good news last week.

On days like today, as I sit with my laptop, I wonder if any of it was real.