Numerology and Nursing Practicum
In the end, all it takes is eighteen minutes.
Eighteen minutes is the amount of time it takes for Jeff Winger to decide to go the party his colleagues are throwing; a kegger, and Jeff momentarily mocks Alan at the invite, asking if they were in college again, and then balking as he realizes he had only just graduated from college himself. Alan, of course, takes advantage of this, makes fun of him, and then proceeds to give him all the information about the party. Since Jeff feels even more isolated than ever, he decides to give it a shot. Can't hurt, right?
Eighteen minutes after arriving at the party, Jeff Winger finds himself already in an engaging conversation with a lanky redhead, all legs and hair, her personality screaming from across the room. Normally, the mere shallowness in Jeff would never go for a redhead, but he is drawn in by her vibrant green eyes, great pools of emerald, and the tiniest dusting of freckles across her face. She's mind-blowingly gorgeous; tall and skinny with hair as long as ever and the color of sweet red wine. She has Jeff entranced from the first look; the way she smiles and the way she introduces herself- "Elizabeth," her voice as soft and as sweet as honey, "But I prefer Liz."
It is only eighteen minutes after they had been talking that Jeff and Liz had begun taking shots, trading beers, and then proceeding to make out. This feels much more like Jeff Winger behavior; the past four years have been such a surreal blur- paintball, the Dean's crazy outfits, playing a father role, Annie versus Britta, and his inevitable downfall from his position of authority. They make out while the rest of the party rushes by in a blur behind them; keg stands, body shots, jungle juice. Liz pulls back and wiggles her eyebrows seductively and that's all it takes.
In eighteen minutes, they find a quiet room upstairs, away from the madness below. They lock the door behind them, assure protection methods and desire on both behalves, and begin to undress. It's sloppy and drunken, not fluid or practiced, but they have sex anyway, ignoring the thumping base of the music below, the shouts of the drunken party guests, and the nagging sense in both of their consciences that maybe this isn't a good idea, that really, they don't know each other very well. Too intoxicated by the alcohol and each other, Jeff Winger and Elizabeth Grant ignore their better judgment and let the heat of the night takeover.
Eighteen minutes is the amount of time in which they wake up, trade numbers awkwardly, and part ways much earlier on in the morning. Jeff is determined to return to the guy he was before this whole thing started and decides if Liz wants to see him again, she can make the first move. He programs her in his phone as "Hot Redhead-Party," but then realizes she's the only girl in his phone who's nameless, so he simply trades this moniker in for "Liz." Eleven weeks later, after he's drowned himself in work and nearly forgotten about her, she calls him to meet up for lunch one day. They meet and, over a plate of chicken fried rice, she drops the bombshell.
It only takes eighteen minutes and two tiny words to change Jeff Winger's life. She admits there is a possibility of it not even being his, as her sexual escapades had overlapped and as soon as she could, she would be getting a paternity test. Jeff nods wordlessly as she explains everything, just as calm as ever, then pays her half and promises she'll text him with news. It isn't until after she's left that Jeff realizes he's more freaked out about this news than Liz is, and all he has to do is stand there. Weeks go by and he hears from Liz a couple more times- once being to confirm she's gotten the paternity test and the results will appear in just two weeks. He tries to cope with the situation, but finds it much too complicated to even begin to understand.
Eighteen minutes after midnight on November eighteenth, Liz is involved in an extremely serious car accident and when Jeff arrives at the hospital, half-clothed and half-awake, they tell him she is in critical condition. It's hours later, nearing three a.m., when they call her family into an isolation room to break the news. Jeff's assuming everything fell to shit and when the doctor approaches him, his face is grim. There's the blunt situation (a driver had slammed into the driver's side of the car, doing eighty-five in a thirty-five), the damage (broken arm from the force of the door, broken leg from the steering wheel, fractured ribs and punctured lung from the shattered glass), and then the worst news of all- she hadn't survived.
Eighteen minutes. It only took eighteen minutes for her to die.
Jeff remains silent for a long time before asking why. Surely this has happened before; why did this time have to be different? The grave-looking doctor explains the situation in a jumble of medical terms (massive hemorrhaging, myocardial infarction, pulmonary embolism) before Jeff asks for clarification. Liz had been so badly damaged that it caused placental abruption, which in turn led to internal bleeding they could not stop. After delivering the baby- despite the fact that she was only twenty-eight weeks along- to try and save her life, she had suffered a heart failure and hemorrhaging due to blood loss. There wasn't much else they could do but sign her death certificate.
Jeff is numb. It's been the most horrible year and now it's just gotten even worse. He's taking it all in when the doctor asks, "Would you like to see your wife, sir?"
"Oh, she… She wasn't my wife." Jeff tells him and his voice is low and pain-stricken.
"My apologies," The doctor says. "Your girlfriend, then? Sometimes it's good to see them to get closure."
Jeff lets the girlfriend comment go and shakes his head slowly. "No."
The doctor nods understandingly. "Would you like to see your daughter?"
He looks up, meeting the doctor's eyes with a small smile. All this horrible news about Liz and he had forgotten completely about the baby. "It was a girl?"
The doctor returns the smile. "It is a girl."
At first, Jeff brushes this off as just a doctor correcting him on a technicality. But after a moment, when he does nothing but motion towards the hallway, Jeff realizes that this baby, their baby, is still alive. And suddenly, Jeff's angry at the world. He barely knew Liz; in fact he's practically just had a baby with a stranger. But how on earth did it make sense that, in a major car accident, the mother had passed away but her baby had survived? He's ready to bark at the next person who beckons to him when a small, shrimpy nurse appears by his side, bearing a small envelope.
"Um, excuse me? Are you Jeffrey Winger?" She asks, her voice nasally and mousy.
Jeff controls his anger. But barely. "Who's asking?"
"This was found at the scene of the accident, near Elizabeth's car." She tells him, passing on the envelope. "The family wants you to have it. It's obvious that was Elizabeth's intention."
"What made you guess that?" Jeff says sarcastically, snatching it from her hands as she scurries away. He strips open the envelope and reads before his entire visage changes.
Jeff- looks like it's our baby after all! I was kind of hoping for that. The guy I slept with after you was a huge douche bag. Give me a call when you get this so we can figure things out. Xoxo - Liz.
Attached are the results of the paternity test, all signs pointing to Jeff as the father. He stares at the percentage and at her loopy handwriting for a moment longer before turning back to the doctor. "Let me see the kid."
Smiling, the doctor leads the way up to the maternity ward, where he buzzes them into the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. Jeff's still trying to come to terms with everything that's happened tonight. He went to sleep thinking it was just another day, then his one-night-stand got into a car accident, perished, and left him with their daughter to raise all by himself. This must be a nightmare. He is going to wake up any second in his bed, in a cold sweat and panting because this never happened.
Unfortunately, it did happen, and it doesn't take long for the situation to become real.
A neonatologist greets him quietly at the door, already having been briefed on the situation. She explains that this may be a little frightening, a little daunting, but that he shouldn't worry because trained as they all are, they know just what his little one needs. Before he can see her, the charge nurse straps a medical band around his wrist, hands him the birth certificate and offers her congratulations. Because Jeff's so overwhelmed, he doesn't respond; he scratches his signature but doesn't decide on a name, and doesn't look at Elizabeth's name beside his, because it isn't her handwriting and he doesn't want to remember why.
He's then introduced to Heather, his daughter's primary nurse, who explains everything that happened during the delivery. She weighs in at two pounds, three ounces- the right size for a baby of her gestation, but not quite large enough to regulate her own body temperature, control her heart rate, or breathe on her own. Heather explains that the tiny little girl would most likely need phototherapy to ward off jaundice and a feeding tube, because her digestive system was fragile and she hadn't quite learned how to coordinate sucking, swallowing and breathing yet. She also says, sadly, that Elizabeth had seen her daughter when she was born, just moments before she suffered her terrible fate.
None of this makes Jeff feel any better.
But it's in that moment that he finally sees her. Heather leads him to an isolette by the far window, where a tiny, tiny little baby rests among a mass of tubes and wires. Her skin is reddish-pink and wrinkly, looking like a fragile baby bird, and her head is about the size of a tennis ball. Surprisingly, she has a full head of brown hair, but it's so fine and light that it barely looks like it's there at all. Tape is secured on her top lip- to keep the ventilator in place- and on her tiny chest- for the arterial line and heart monitor. There is an intravenous catheter attached to her diminutive hand, which feeds her constant medications, and four or five machines are all beeping and whirring around her. Jeff wonders how a tiny little baby could possibly warrant this much care; he hadn't ever seen this much equipment ever before in his life.
He continues to stare at his little girl as she kicks out and jerks her arms uncomfortably. Heather secures a warming blanket around her fragile body, explaining that since she couldn't regulate her own body temperature, this blanket would do it for her. Jeff doesn't say a word. He's too entranced by this baby, this life he created and is responsible for, for the rest of his existence. It doesn't scare him as much as he expects and instead, he finds himself fearing for her life instead. She's awfully tiny and the way Heather explained her situation was crucial. The slightest touch could dislodge a vital machine and, potentially, kill her.
"I understand it's overwhelming," Heather says calmly. "But she isn't sick. Her only problem is that she was born much too early. In a few months, she'll be right where she should be and you can take her home."
Jeff nods, still unable to speak. He reaches towards the hole in the isolette and then catches himself. Heather laughs softly. "You can touch her, if you'd like. It won't hurt her."
The little girl is crying, whimpering, as Jeff slips a hand into the isolette, reaching to touch her for the first time. Her skin is raw, but soft, and he finds himself falling in love. At first, just a touch. Then two fingers, then three. Suddenly, he's slowly, gently rubbing circles on her stomach, avoiding the stem of the umbilical cord as he watches his daughter slowly calm down. Heather smiles at the sight and turns to go. "I'll give you two a moment. Maybe to figure out a name?"
But Jeff's already figured this out. "Grace."
Heather turns to face him. "I'm sorry?"
"I'd like to name her Grace," Jeff says softly, not ceasing his hand. "Grace Elizabeth Winger."
Grace is quiet the moment her identity is confirmed.
A month goes by and Jeff Winger's life gets much less complicated.
He calls his mother awkwardly and tells her the news, to which she reacts just as he expected she would- first excited that he found someone, then upset at the news of Liz's passing, then gleeful at the idea of a grandchild. He goes to work and tells his boss and coworkers and they congratulate him while at the same time offering their condolences. He starts to visit the NICU every day rather than once a week and enjoys the briefing on Grace's advancements and setbacks before being able to relax, somewhat stressfully, with his daughter.
The previous week, he had been able to hold her for the very first time- something he'd never be able to replicate or forget.
So today, the Monday after Christmas, is no different. He's just gotten out of work and doesn't bother changing as he makes his way to the hospital. He greets the main lobby secretary cordially and enters the elevator, stopping at the maternity ward and heading down the hallway. But today, he stops short by the large glass nursery window, peering inside at the thirty-or-so healthy babies, resting in their bassinettes as nurses change some, blanket others, and send others off with their smiling parents. Jeff allows a bit of darkness to enter his thoughts- why isn't Grace here, resting healthily with no tubes and wires attached? Why was she born a month ago, yet is half the size of the babies here? He sighs and turns to further his way down the hall when he stops short at the sight of a short blonde woman, leaning against the wall beside the nursery door, uninterestedly checking her phone.
It takes a light-year for his brain to send a signal to his mouth. "Britta?"
She glances up, startled, and does a double take. "Jeff? What the… What are you doing here?"
"I obviously saw the ad about the free adoption," He jokes, but it's been so long since he's done so and it feels weird as he says it. Britta pulls a face.
"My sister-in-law just had a baby," She says to bring normalcy back to the situation and just then, a nurse pushes a new bassinette up to the window. "Yup. There he is."
They both peer into the glass at the newborn and Britta frowns. "Ugh, he got Leslie's nose!"
"They named him Francis?" Jeff states in disgust. "Well congratulations. You're now a proud new aunt to a ninety-five-year-old man."
Britta laughs slightly. "Tell me about it. Francis is an awful name."
Jeff grins and glances back at Baby Perry before Britta asks, "What are you really doing here, Jeff?"
He sighs. "Wishing my daughter was in here instead of the NICU. Trust me, Francis might be an awful name, but he's lucky to be here."
In shock, Britta responds, "You have a daughter?"
"Long story," He says diminutively. "I'm actually on my way to see her right now, actually. Just stopped by to see some healthy babies for a change."
"Oh," Britta says quietly. Something in his tone is tense and sad, so she knows he's telling the truth. "Well, congratulations."
"Thanks," Jeff says and turns to go, but after a beat, he turns back. "Do you want to see her? I mean, I could show you a picture, but it's not the same. You should come with me."
Britta takes one more look at her new nephew, silently apologizes to him for his awful name and even more awful nose, and says, "Yeah. I'm there."
Britta's never been to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit and decides, once she and Jeff go through security, she would never like to go again.
It's the most intense experience that she's ever had and at the same time, everything remains completely calm. It's high drama in a quiet room; no one makes a sound as they move, no one speaks above a whisper, no one asks- they just do. She and Jeff scrub up, washing up to their elbows before they're even allowed inside the room. There are families with their babies all over; some crying, some bonding, some getting the chance to take their little one home. And when she begins to pay attention, Britta wonders what happened to the real Jeff Winger- the one she teased, bantered, and slept with- because this is so not him.
"Hey, Liam's going home?" Jeff questions as he grabs a paper towel for himself and Britta.
The nurse he's speaking with grins excitedly and nods. "He's finally figured out how to control that fluctuating heart rate! Something Gracie's figured out weeks ago."
Jeff chuckles. "What can I say? Runs in the Winger blood to be an overachiever."
She giggles and then notices Britta's presence. "You've brought company today!"
"Yeah! Heather, this is my friend Britta Perry, from college." He introduces and Britta grins, shaking the nurse's hand. "Britta, this is Heather, Grace's primary nurse."
"It's great to meet you," Heather smiles and then turns to Jeff. "She's doing well today. ECG and all vitals checked out fine. She'll need a feeding in about five minutes if you want to take over?"
"Of course," He says definitively, crossing the room and asking over his shoulder, "Did the eye exam come back yet?"
"Just this morning, and everything is perfect. Her vision's fine," Heather answers. "Now, Ava has to be prepped for an orthopedic operation, so I'll be over here if you need me!"
"Thanks Heather," Jeff says politely and to Britta, shakes his head, "Can you imagine if I had that kind of luck? Ugh."
Britta just stares at him. "Who are you?"
She doesn't get her answer, because they approach an isolette by a large window and Britta falls in love with the tiniest, most perfect little girl she's ever seen. She's dressed in a little purple romper, flowers and all, and has the tiniest bow in her hair Britta has ever seen. Her vibrant green eyes are wide open and come to focus on her father as they approach. Britta watches as Jeff's entire air changes; he somehow becomes softer, more weathered and vulnerable, as he carefully extracts his tiny daughter from her comfortable home and shifts her into his arms, taking the bottle from another nurse nearby and beginning to feed her.
Seeing Jeff so domestic reminds Britta of why she fell in love with him in the first place.
"Hi Gracie," Jeff says quietly as the little girl begins to drink. "How are you doing, today? You lost your friend, Liam, I see. That's probably good, though. Word on the street is that he's a ladies' man."
Britta chuckles. "Look at you, Father of the Year. I'm impressed."
"You do what you have to do," Jeff nods towards the chair beside his and she takes it. "Seriously, though. How are you? It's been a long time."
"Just a few months," Britta downplays it. "But I've been good, really good. We've missed you, though."
"Yeah," Jeff says sarcastically. "That's why you guys kicked me out."
"We didn't kick you out," Britta disagrees. "We had an argument that you didn't agree with, so you left."
"Semantics," Jeff shrugs. "Do you still see each other all the time?"
"Less often since graduation, but…" Britta trails off. "Pretty much."
Jeff nods and Britta decides to change the subject because, even though he'd deny it vehemently, she knows Jeff's lonely and, watching him, she knows he feels excluded. "So…"
"You want to know how this all happened?" Jeff finishes and Britta somehow forgot they used to do that. They knew each other so well, they could finish off the other's thoughts. She nods.
"Yeah, but it didn't seem right to ask."
Jeff takes a glance at Grace, who is watching her father like a hawk, and sighs. "Well it's a long story, so sit tight, kitten."
He goes into everything, starting with the job he secured at his law firm the moment his degree was fresh from the printer. He talks about Alan, the party, and meeting Elizabeth. His face doesn't change when he describes her and Britta doesn't know whether to take that as a good sign or a bad one, but she decides against unleashing her inner therapist and focuses her attention as Jeff explains the pregnancy, the paternity test, the accident. He still is trying to wrap his head around how they managed to save a two-pound baby and not a fully-grown adult, but he somehow manages to end the story and not sound scared, upset, or nervous over the outcome.
Britta's in shock, but responds, "I'm so sorry. That's insane."
Jeff sighs but shrugs anyway. "Well I got Grace, anyway. It isn't all bad."
She's finished the bottle and Jeff shifts her body onto his shoulder to burp her. "We're lone wolves, aren't we Gracie?"
He receives a little hiccup in response and chuckles. "Not quite what I was looking for."
For a while, they're silent. Britta then says, "Jeff, I really missed you. That sounds stupid, because it's only been a few months and you and I have always been… But I did. I missed you."
Jeff smiles at her. "I missed you too, Britta. It's been weird not seeing you every day."
He's shown her genuine emotion and she's more than a little pleased with herself. "Hey, do you want to come to this thing at my place this Saturday? The study group'll be there. It's informal; we're just hanging out."
"Depends on what time," Jeff says apprehensively. "My Mom's coming here with me on Saturday. She hasn't seen Grace yet."
"We were planning around six," Britta decides. "Sound good?"
"Sure," Jeff agrees, shifting Grace back into the cradling position. "It's been awhile. We should make amends."
Before Britta's able to respond, the charge nurse is calling Jeff's name and motioning for him to meet her at the desk. He groans. "I swear that woman has it out for me. I'll be right back."
He goes to replace Grace in her isolette, but instead grins towards Britta. "You want to hold her?"
She looks extremely apprehensive. "I don't know…"
"Come on, you won't break her." Jeff assures her. "All those nieces and nephews you have and you're afraid of Grace?"
"My nieces and nephews aren't this tiny."
"You can't hurt her, Britta," Jeff coaxes. "Come on! What would little Francis think?"
Britta smirks and gives in, holding out her arms. "Okay fine. Give her to me."
"There you go," Jeff grins, shifting the baby into her arms. "Just support her little head. That's it."
"I'm not new at this," Britta shoots back, but she's still cradling her as if she's made of porcelain.
"She only weighs about four pounds, so she shouldn't get too heavy," Jeff tells her as he walks away. "Oh! And be careful- don't tug on her breathing tube."
"Great, thanks!" Britta calls after him in nervousness as he laughs and retreats. She stares down at the sleepy infant in her arms. "Hi Grace! You… You don't know me, but I'm one of your Daddy's friends. Which… is actually a really weird label, since we argued all the time and spent an entire year sleeping together behind our friends' backs. But anyway…"
"You're so tiny," Britta coos as Grace lets out a languid yawn. "You're so much smaller than any baby I've ever seen before. And you weigh less than you probably should. Wait until Daddy gets you started on that weird, organic diet. You poor thing! I'll sneak you McDonald's whenever I can. Ugh, you're so adorable. I'm sure it's all because of Mommy, right? Don't let Daddy tell you it's because of him. He's just full of himself."
She bites her lip as she says this and feels guilty. "I'm sorry about your Mommy, Gracie. It's horrible… You're going to go through life wondering where she is and why you can't see her and that's not fair. Or… you're going to blame yourself when it isn't your fault. Your Mommy loves you, Grace. And your Daddy loves you too… Which I find shocking, because I never thought Jeff Winger could love anyone as much as he loves himself."
She chuckles at her own joke. "Wait until you're older. We'll make fun of him all the time. I can't wait. Until then, keep pulling through, Grace. You're amazing."
A few feet away, in their own world, a couple is singing a lullaby to their own infant. Britta, feeling inspired by them and her last statement, begins, "Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound. That saved a wretch like me."
"I once was lost, but now am found," Britta croons softly as Grace yawns once more and settles in to sleep. "Was blind, but now I see."
From his position a few feet away, Jeff grins, as this reminds him of all the reasons he fell in love with her in the first place.
"Close your eyes…"
"My eyes have been closed. That's why I tripped."
"I told you there was a step there!"
"Not a step down!"
"Well, suck it. We're almost there."
"When did this turn into a surprise thing?"
"It's not a surprise…"
"Really, Britta? So I'm just walking to your apartment with you leading me blind for no reason?"
"…Shut up. We're almost there."
"I can see that."
Britta gasps. "Keep your eyes shut!"
Jeff chuckles but does as she's asked and she continues to lead him down the hallway to her apartment. He stumbles once more before they reach her door; Britta making a huge show of unlocking her door like this was any other day. She tells Jeff he can open his eyes when they've crossed the threshold of her apartment and he's barely done so when she flicks the light on and the rest of the study group is there, shouting, "SURPRISE!"
"Wow guys," Jeff drones, looking at Britta. "This isn't something I would've ever expected."
"Hi Jeff!" Annie shouts excitedly. "Britta told us everything and we figured you could use a little help!"
"A beautiful little baby!" Shirley squeals. "Isn't that nice?"
Jeff looks around before he realizes this is a baby shower; there are decorations everywhere, from bassinet cut-outs, to pacifiers and bottle streamers. A large pink and yellow banner is hanging from Britta's ceiling and reads, "It's A Girl!"A few wrapped presents are resting on Britta's coffee table and Troy and Abed wave from the corner of the living room, where they're blowing up balloons. Pierce curses from the center of the room, where he's attempting to put together the crib the study group pooled their money to buy.
Jeff is immediately shocked… and immensely grateful. He hasn't had the time to buy these things for himself.
"Pierce!" Britta groans. "I keep telling you that Jeff does not live here, so putting the crib together here is useless!"
"I just thought I'd get a head start," He defends himself. "Jeff doesn't know how to work with his hands; he'd probably pay someone to do it. Which is stupid when you have someone with such fine craftsmanship right at your disposal."
Britta rolls her eyes and Jeff grabs her arm. "You told them everything?"
"Well, not everything," Britta says, her voice lowering. "I didn't tell them about Elizabeth. I just said she isn't in the picture."
"Thanks," Jeff tells her. "The last thing I need is pity."
She nods and heads to the kitchen just as Troy comes over and pats Jeff on the back. "So, fellow adult, how do you like your totally-grown-up party?"
"It's great. Seriously," Jeff tells him genuinely. "I owe you guys a lot."
"Oh we didn't do this," Abed states. "This was all Britta's idea. She said you were unprepared to bring your child home from the hospital and we had to help any way we could. She also said you missed the group, but were too proud to admit it."
Despite the insult, Jeff likes the fact that this was Britta's doing. "Really?"
"Of course, Jeffrey. We would still be mad at you for some of those awful things you said," Shirley informs him. "But like the good Christians we all are-"
Annie rolls her eyes. "Jewish!"
"Muslim," Abed raises a hand.
Troy states, "Jehovah's Witness," but very casually and Pierce mumbles, "Reformed Neo-Buddhism is not a cult!"
"Like the good people," Shirley frowns and corrects herself. "We all are, we forgive you. Besides, there is a baby involved, and a baby is a gift from God."
"Plus, we figured if Britta can forgive you, we all can," Annie says. "She was the one you hurt the most, right?"
Jeff looks quizzical. "I did?"
The group shares a glance. "Yeah."
Annie and Shirley get back to organizing party games while Abed decides to help (or mock) Pierce. But Troy steps closer to Jeff and says, "You may be too proud to admit you need us, but Britta's too proud to admit she needs you. Make the first move, man."
As Jeff is thinking this over, Britta returns carrying a tray of food. "Hors dourves are ready! Who's hungry?"
But no one gets to taste the hors dourves, because moments after Britta's returned to the living room, Jeff crosses the room and kisses her, sending the plate of delectable finger foods barreling to the floor.
"Mommy," Five-year-old Grace pleads, hopping up and down on her bed. "Can you tell me a bedtime story? Please, please?"
Britta chuckles and runs a hand through her auburn curls. "Sure. But you have to get in bed, right? Bedtime rules!"
"Okay," Grace agrees, pushing back the blankets and sheets and giggling as their tabby cat reveals himself. "Whiskers! Get outta my bed!"
He stretches and hops off, Britta shaking her head at her cat's ability to sleep anywhere. She pulls up a chair- and barely fits on it, so she decides against that and instead settles on the bed next to Grace as she snuggles into her bed and sticks her thumb in her mouth. Britta's quick to correct her. "Ah ah, what did Doctor Jensen say?"
"No more sucking my thumb," Grace replies, her thumb still stuck in her mouth. "But I can't sleep without it!"
"I know, sweetie," Britta says. "But do you want to have to get braces when you're older?"
Fearfully, she shakes her head and Britta grins. "Tell you what. If you can go a whole week without sucking your thumb, we'll have ice cream for dinner on Friday."
Grace's eyes light up. "Daddy hates when we do that!"
"It'll be our little secret," Britta grins and Grace immediately agrees. "Okay, what kind of bedtime story do you want to hear tonight?"
"Cinderella!" Grace says immediately and Britta shouldn't have even been shocked. It's her new obsession.
Just then Jeff passes by the doorway and notices both his wife and daughter are still wide awake- at nine p.m. on a Sunday night. "Hey, Grace Face. Shouldn't you be asleep?"
"Daddy, Mommy's gonna tell me about Cinderella!" Grace squeals excitedly. "You wanna hear it?"
"Do I want to hear Mommy tell a princess story?" Jeff smirks and Britta rolls her eyes. "Do I ever."
He joins them, occupying the chair Britta just a moment ago could not. "Enlighten us, Mommy."
"Once upon a time," Britta begins, sending a mock glare in Jeff's direction before smiling sweetly at Grace. "There was a beautiful princess named Cinderella. She lived in a faraway land with her Daddy, until her Daddy decided to be selfish and marry a horrible woman who didn't care about anything but being rich. She also had two bratty daughters who tortured and bullied Cinderella every day, but apparently no one cared about that and they got married anyway."
Jeff stifles a laugh, but Grace is intrigued. Britta continues. "One day, Cinderella's Daddy went away on a very long trip-"
"Wait," Jeff pauses. "I thought he di-"
"Nope!" Britta cuts him off, shaking her head with a 'we-don't-talk-about-death' look on her face. "Anyway, he went away on a very long trip and the evil stepmother was left in charge. And what did she do, Gracie?"
"She made Cinderella do everything," Grace informs them. "She had to wash clothes and dishes and take out the trash and wash the floors and everything!"
"And that's not fair, is it?"
"No," Grace shakes her head. "Because boys should have to do work, too! Not just girls!"
Jeff rolls his eyes. "What have you done to this kid?"
"Then one day," Britta continues. "There was a huge dance at the prince's castle. He sent out invitations to everyone in the land, but the evil stepmothers and stepsisters made a huge list of chores for Cinderella to do so she couldn't go to the party!"
"Wait, what happened to the mice making the dress?" Jeff asks and before Britta can answer, Grace does it for her.
"Daddy," She whines, impatient. "Stop interrupting!"
"Yeah, Daddy," Britta chuckles and it's Jeff's turn to roll his eyes. "Just then Cinderella's fairy godmother appeared and told Cinderella that she was a young, independent woman and she didn't need a fancy dress and carriage for the prince to notice her. So she went to the ball in her work clothes with dirt still in her hair and what did the prince say, Gracie?"
"You're still beautiful to me, Cinderella," Grace smiles. "Then they danced all night and she got married to him. The evil stepmother and stepsisters never bothered her again!"
"No they didn't," Britta concludes. "They lived happily, and equally, forever after. The end."
Grace claps excitedly and Jeff smirks. "Wow. You just butchered Disney. Great job, buzz kill."
"I love that story, Mommy," Grace sighs complacently and Britta looks towards Jeff with satisfaction.
"See? Disney can be entertaining and educational," She tells him, bending over Grace and giving her a kiss goodnight. "Goodnight sweetheart. I love you."
"I love you too, Mommy." She yawns and just as Britta gets up, shouts, "Wait! I have to give Baby Henry a kiss goodnight!"
Britta points toward her swollen stomach as Grace does so. "He's kicking up a storm tonight, Gracie. He says goodnight!"
"Goodnight Henry!" She shrieks and settles in bed as Jeff tucks her in. "Goodnight Daddy. I love you too."
"Love you, princess," He chuckles, kissing her forehead and turning out the light as the little girl drifts off into dreamland.
He joins Britta in the living room a moment later and chuckles. "That was a horrible story."
"Says the man who left out a huge chunk of Snow White last night," Britta smirks and Jeff scoffs.
"Oh, come on, like anyone cares about the poison apple scene," Jeff defends himself. "That happened in like, what, ten seconds? Unnecessary."
"Whatever," Britta laughs, turning off the lights and appliances as she makes her way to their master bathroom. "Ugh, your son is killing me tonight. Hope he kicks you later in life as much as he's kicked me."
"Hmm, I'll pass on that one. Where are you going?"
"To shower, Jeff. You act like this is a new routine," Britta smirks and then turns to eye him seductively. "Unless, you want to make it one."
Jeff grins and, for some reason, this seems like a moment for a revelation. Sure his life has had its ups and downs, but in the end, he got what he's always wanted. He's still a lawyer and at the end of the day, he comes home to his two favorite girls.
"Oh, it's a new routine." Jeff responds and follows her.
The best part about this is... This wasn't even the story idea I had in mind haha. This was a dream I had a few nights ago... Very vivid. Anyway, thanks for reading and in advance for reviewing, and I'll see you (very soon) in the next one!