Whole

By Victoria Eastlake

After her mastectomy, Claire has struggled with self-esteem issues. In order to help her begin to heal, her loving husband, Carl, takes her to a California resort where the couple can get away from their lives. But only the attentions of the resort’s gardener—a young, mentally-challenged man named Stanley—will ultimately allow Claire to feel sexy again. What transpires is a life-affirming moment of sexual union, for all involved.

LENGTH: 12,000+ words. Not intended for readers under 18.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Victoria Eastlake
• Release date: Mar 28, 2015
• ISBN: 9781507049846

Book preview

Whole: A Wife Sharing Story

My wife, Claire, felt the tumor in her left breast eight months ago. She had a biopsy a week later, which came back positive, and then scheduled an emergency mastectomy a couple weeks after that. The tumor was removed—along with the entire breast. From detection to surgery was only one month. After several months of monitoring, her oncologist had recently declared her cancer free.

I was relieved. Claire, however, was not. You would think she was still living under a death sentence. Though my wife had always been full of energy and life, after she had the breast removed she became a shadow of her former self. She rarely wanted to go outside. And she certainly didn’t want me to touch her.

I was surprised by how hard she had taken it. I couldn’t understand why she would be so upset just to lose a breast. In my 20s, I lost my hair. Although I fucked around with Minoxidil for a couple months, I eventually accepted that my hair wasn’t coming back. So I cut it short and moved on with my life.

I expected Claire would do the same. After all, Claire was not a fashion model who had to show her breasts off in order to make money. She was 43 years old. A potter by trade, she spent all her time in a shed out behind our house, working at the pottery wheel while wearing smocks or thick, shapeless sweaters. Her breasts weren’t even particularly large—a nice size C, more than ample enough for me—but nothing to build an entire identity around. Yet Claire acted as if her identity had been taken from her.

Although her oncologist said that her pectoral muscle was too weak to support reconstructive surgery, he nevertheless hooked Claire up with a therapist who showed her how to pad her bras. She bought specially-made bras that were padded on her left side. In fact, if you didn’t know it, you would simply assume that she had both breasts.

But Claire knew differently. And her whole relationship to her body changed, too. Instead of getting undressed in front of me, she would discreetly hop into the walk-in closet. Instead of going swimming, she would sit poolside wearing slacks and a light T-shirt. She always locked the bathroom when showering, just so I wouldn’t walk in on her.

And instead of having sex once a week, we watched television. Lots and lots of television.

I kept telling my wife she was beautiful—because she is. But she was still struggling. So I did the only thing I could think of. I booked a week’s vacation at a desert resort in California. I hoped a change of scenery would bring Claire out of her shell. And bring the two of us closer together.

*

The resort manager showed us around our cabin. We had flown down from Oregon that morning for a week in Indian Wells, California, to stay at the Edge of the Desert Resort. And the name was appropriate: we had had to drive for half an hour through a desert wasteland before finding the colorful Edge of the Desert Resort, overflowing with plants and abundance.

And you also have a private pool, the resort manager said, opening the sliding glass door and stepping out onto the patio. In front of us was a kidney shaped pool with two deck chairs beside it. The water, like the sky, was a clear blue. Located around the perimeter of the patio were giant vases, holding ferns and other shrubs. It was a nice, tight, private space.

Fabulous, I said and noted