Chapter One
Darcy Perkins’ eyes flew open a moment before she bolted upright in bed. She ripped the covers off herself and reached frantically for her phone on the nightstand. Her bedroom was pitch black, and in her rush to grab the phone, she knocked it off onto the floor in the tiny space that no body part could possibly fit between the side of the nightstand and her bed.
“No. No, no, no!” she cried, leaning her body halfway off the bed and reaching for it without success. Losing her balance, she slid head-first onto the floor with a groan, somehow managing to miss the nightstand. She swiped her hand under the bed. “How can it be so hard to find?” she grumbled to herself.
Finally, her fingers touched the corner of the phone and she was able to pull it to her. With a huff, she opened it and turned on the flashlight app. Now, why did that have to be so hard?
She turned the light toward herself and glanced down. Her nightgown was soaking wet and clinging to her body as if she’d just lost a wet t-shirt contest. What in the hell was happening to her?
She placed her phone on her bed, flashlight facing the ceiling to give herself some much-needed light, and got on her knees, using the bed for leverage to pull herself off the floor. She groaned as her knee popped. “Why did no one warn me turning forty-six would be like this?”
Once she was back on her feet, she picked up her phone and shined the light onto her bed. Sure enough, there was a giant wet spot where she had been lying. Gross. There was no way she was going back to sleep on that.
She stomped over to her dresser and pulled out a fresh nightgown and panties and glanced toward the bathroom. She knew she should take a shower to get the sweat off her body. But she was so damn tired, she had no desire to get wetter than she already was.
Decision made, she removed the offending clothes and used them to wipe the perspiration from her body, then sprayed herself down with her body spray before donning the clean panties and nightgown.
She glared at her bed as she walked out of her bedroom. She’d deal with pulling off the sheets and washing them in the morning. For now, she was going to get herself a glass of water and go back to sleep on the couch.
With a sigh, she settled into her makeshift bed, pulling the throw blanket over herself and opened her phone back up. She was wide awake. There was no way she could go to sleep right now. Might as well find out what other hell she was in for.
Perimenopause. That was what the doctor called it. She’d gone in thinking she was losing her mind. Literally. She had been forgetting everything. Where she put her keys, what she had walked into the room for, and her thoughts while she was in the middle of speaking them. She was sure she was in the middle of early-stage Alzheimer’s or something as terrifying. But no. The doctor had given her his best condescending smile and told her that at her age, she should have realized she was just entering perimenopause. And that nothing was really wrong with her.
“Ha!” she scoffed. “It’s all wrong.” She was forgetting words, hadn’t slept properly in three months, her body had turned into a furnace, and he was telling her nothing was wrong? “There’s nothing right about any of this.”
She glanced back down at her phone. There had to be a support group for people like her. They had online support groups for everything nowadays. She typed in perimenopausal support groups online and The National Menopause Foundation and the Endocrine Society were the first to appear in her search results. She browsed them for a few minutes then growled and went to her favorite social media site and typed in the same search term. She settled back onto the couch with satisfaction. “Now we’re talking.”
She read through the different group names and stopped on one called Hot Mamas Perimenopause Support Group. “Now that sounds like a fun group of women.” She clicked the join button and entered the required information to become a member.
Once on the group page, her eyes widened.
Ginger: I almost smothered my husband with my pillow tonight. I love my husband. I do. But he fell asleep without putting his CPAP machine on, after I told him to put it on. And then proceeded to snore loudly. I tried to wake him up to have him put it on and he’d just mumble and snore some more. Perimenopause rage is real, ladies.
Renae: It really is. How did you avoid temptation?
Ginger: I crawled in bed with my granddaughter. She kicks in her sleep, but at least she doesn’t snore.
Darcy snorted. Her ex had been a champion snorer, and she’d wanted to smother him long before perimenopause entered the picture. She couldn’t imagine having him in the same bed with all these mood swings.
Carla: I can’t believe you have a granddaughter. My son is only ten!
Monique: Ah the joys of being in our 40s ladies
She scrolled further down the page.
Miranda: It happened again. I woke up and my hair was plastered to my neck. My pillow was drenched. I had to change the sheets. This is the third time this week.
Renae: Try sleeping with one foot out of the covers.
Oh yes, she’d found her people. She read through several of the group posts and her eyes snagged on an upcoming event graphic. She clicked onto it. Hot Mamas Perimenopause Support Group Meetup. Langley’s Bar. RSVP.
She hovered over the RSVP button. The meetup was for tomorrow afternoon. Well, technically, this afternoon. It was already two thirteen in the morning. They may have already closed down the reservations link. Before she could talk herself out of it, she pressed the button. A sign-up form popped up. She filled out the information and hit send.
Her phone buzzed in her hand. She opened up her email app, her heart quickening at the confirmation of the event. “Well, Darcy,” she said to herself, “looks like you’re going to make some new friends.”
She shut her eyes and pictured herself lying on the beach. She could feel the sun rays toasting her skin and hear the waves lapping at the shoreline. This was her happy place.
If her deadbeat husband hadn’t traded her in for a newer, shinier version of Darcy. Literally. The woman looked almost exactly like she had twenty years ago. Nope. She wasn’t going there. She wasn’t giving him another thought.
She took a deep breath in and focused her mind on the pelicans dive-bombing into the water, the dolphins off in the distance, the sound of children squealing as the waves knocked them over. Still, even though she tried to focus on the ocean, her mind kept drifting to the perimenopause event.
Her last thought before falling back asleep was that she was finally looking forward to something again. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this excited about meeting a bunch of strangers.
