Title: A Dream Life
Author: Andrea
Rating: R. And I do mean R … so if R-rated material is offensive to you or anyone else who might be reading this over your shoulder … stop and turn back now. Or stop and turn back when you get the offensive parts. You know, whatever.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading. Thanks for the reviews. And Kel -- thanks for the editing.
~*~*~*~
A Dream Life
Chapter 13: Going to Grandma's
"Are you okay?" I ask, glancing over at Abby.
"If you ask me that one more time, I'm going to kick you."
I laugh because I'd like to see her try it. We're cruising along in the Jeep. And she's driving. So kicking me would be a neat trick. But watching her knuckles get white as she grips the steering wheel, and seeing her face looking slightly green has me a bit nervous.
"Maybe I should drive." I suggest. "The whole driving thing doesn't seem to be helping."
"Carsick!" She yells. "This is absurd. I've never gotten motion sickness before in my life."
"Well, you're pregnant now."
"No really?" Total sarcasm. "Thanks. I was wondering why I hadn't had my period in four months. So glad you could clear it up for me."
I sigh. It just kinda slips out. I know she can't help it, but sometimes these mood swings are killer. "I just meant that your body is under a lot of stress and going through all those changes, of course you're going to react differently to things."
"Oh, of course I am. I can't believe that I've barely had a hint of morning sickness, but put me in the car for a couple hours …"
"Maybe it was the Squeaky Cheese." I suggest.
She grips the wheel a little tighter. "Don't mention food." She says through clenched teeth.
"There's a rest stop coming up. Let's take a break." I'm really starting to get nervous that she's going to suddenly start projectile vomiting and drive us right into an overpass or something.
"Fine." She says, pulling off the highway. She parks the car and then sits very still, taking several deep breaths.
"Abby, this is ridiculous. Just go throw up. You'll feel better."
"I don't want to throw up."
"Well, I know you don't, but it would be better than feeling like this."
"I'm not going to throw up. I don't want to waste all those nutrients that the baby needs."
"I don't think the baby will be too deprived between here and Minneapolis. It's only another hour or so."
"No, I'm not going to do it. I fought to not throw up all this time, and if I wait just a little bit longer, it'll go away. That way the baby won't be deprived and I won't have to start all over. Believe me -- an empty stomach will make me feel just as bad."
"Okay, okay. Don't throw up. It's fine with me. Wanna take a walk? Get some fresh air?"
"Yeah, okay." She agrees and we leave the car, taking a slow stroll through the park-like setting of the rest stop. This trip has gotten off to a rather inauspicious beginning. I hope it doesn't turn out to be a bad idea all the way around. I had been the one to suggest the road trip. Abby thought it was time to tell her family about the baby, and I suggested doing it in person, rather than over the phone. We both have the weekend off, a fairly rare occurrence, and what could be more fun than a little trip? So we'd packed up some stuff and jumped in the Jeep. We did fine the first couple hours. Then we stopped for a potty break in Wisconsin, bought some of the state's infamous cheese curds and after Abby polished off the bag, she was suddenly overcome with this "motion sickness." I think it sounds more like "ate too much cheese" sickness, but whatever she says goes these days.
"Are you feeling better?" I ask her after a few minutes. The color has returned to her face. Or maybe the green has just disappeared. Whatever, she looks better.
"Yeah. I feel kinda …"
"What?"
"Hungry?" I laugh. Even Abby's stomach is suffering from mood swings, apparently.
"Maybe there are vending machines inside."
"Well, I need to pee anyway, so I guess we might as well go check it out."
Sure enough the rest stop features a couple of vending machines just bursting with a whole array of junk food. While Abby's in the bathroom, I get a couple cans of soda and try to choose the healthiest of the snacks -- granola bars and pretzels.
"I need chocolate." Abby announces as she appears by my side. "Oh! Look … Peanut Butter Cups! Snickers! Kit Kats! Twix!" She's practically drooling. "Oh!" Geez, she's getting awfully excited. She doesn't even get this ecstatic over sex.
"Here." I say, handing over a few dollar bills, watching her gleefully feed them to the vending machine in exchange for her beloved candy bars. And to think she was on the verge of vomiting twenty minutes ago. I can't imagine all that chocolate is going to do anything to help her 'motion sickness.' But if there's one rule I've come to live by these past few weeks it would have to be never argue with your pregnant wife. Well, okay, maybe I haven't exactly mastered that rule yet. But I'm working on it.
We get back on the road with me driving and Abby lovingly cradling her precious chocolate bars. Until she decides which one to eat first. And then she dives in with unabashed joy. I really fear for our child sometimes. It's going to come out with a list of probable addictions a mile along. And I'm beginning to think that ice cream and chocolate will top the list. If Abby keeps this up, we'll have to add hot fudge sauce to the baby bottles. I laugh at the thought.
"What?" Abby asks.
"Nothing." I tell her. "How are those candy bars?"
"Mmm." She moans. "Good."
"I guess you're feeling better?"
"Oh, yeah." She says, leaning over toward me to give me a little kiss on the side of my mouth. Hey, I have to watch the road. But I still get a faint taste of Kit Kat bar. Not bad.
"Abby …" I say, as she starts kissing along my jaw line, and running her hand down my chest. "Don't start that. Please." I forgot that chocolate has this … amorous effect on her these days.
"Start what?" She asks. The picture of innocence. As she runs her tongue around my ear lobe. And her hand dips lower.
"Abby, please. I'm trying to drive. Get back in your own seat."
"Oh come on, we're on the highway. All you have to do is steer."
"Yeah, we're on the highway. In broad daylight. All we have to do it pass big rig and some trucker can get an eyeful of … your head in my lap."
"It's not like the roof isn't on the car … unlike the last time."
"Yeah, when I almost drove off the road. Listen, just keep your hands and your … lips to yourself, please." With one hand I push back toward the passenger seat. "And put your seatbelt back on. Don't you know how dangerous this is?" That seems to get her attention.
"I didn't think about that." She says, sounding chastised and guilty as she settles into her seat and clips her seatbelt firmly into place. "I'm supposed to be extra careful these days, and there I was creating a hazard. Sorry, kiddo." She says, patting her belly.
"I'm sure the baby will forgive you. Of course now you've got me all hot and bothered so you'll have to make that up to me later."
"I'll make it up to you now."
"Huh? Didn't you just decide that you need to keep that seatbelt on? Can't take a chance on you and the baby being tossed through the windshield. I mean, once the baby's born, you're not gonna just toss it in the backseat and hope for the best are you? Because --"
"John! I was just gonna give you some of my chocolate. I'm gonna have to have some more so …"
"Do you really think you should be eating all that chocolate?"
"I knew it. I knew it. You think I'm fat."
"What?"
"You don't want me eating any more chocolate because you think I'm getting fat."
"I don't want you eating any more chocolate because it's going to make you sick."
"Oh." She sounds somewhat mollified. "But you think I'm fat too, don't you?"
"No! I don't think you're fat." God I love her, but sometimes I wish this Jeep had a trunk to lock her in.
"Whatever."
"Here." I say, handing her the cell phone. "Call your mother."
"Why? To tell her you think I'm fat and that I disgust you so much that you just turned down the one thing I thought you would never, ever turn down?"
"No, just call her and tell her that we'll be there soon."
"I don't want to call my mother. It's supposed to be a surprise, remember?"
"Yeah, and I thought we should have called before we left Chicago, remember? What if she's not home?"
"What? Are you gonna turn around and go back to Chicago now?"
"No, but … what if she is home? Don't you think she might like some advanced warning?"
"Why?"
"I don't know, Abby. What if the apartment is a mess? What if she's in the middle of something? I mean, you really wouldn't want to interrupt your mom in the middle of … an 'afternoon delight' would you?"
"Oh, gross. Yuck. She's my mom, dude."
"My point exactly. You don't really want her answering the door half naked, do you?"
"God! Stop it. What's wrong with you?"
"What? It's possible. You don't think your mom could have a boyfriend?"
"She doesn't have a boyfriend."
"She could. I mean, she's on her meds. She's stable. She's sweet and fun and attractive."
"Oh my God, please tell me you don't have some sort of fucked up fantasies about Maggie."
"Abby! Of course not. I'm just pointing out that she has plenty of attractive qualities, there's no reason that she couldn't be …"
"Spending the afternoon banging some random guy that she met on the bus? She doesn't do that when she's on her meds."
"Geez, Ab. You think you might considering cleaning up that mouth of yours before the baby gets here?"
"I'm not even gonna touch that one. You can just insert your own dirty joke about my filthy mouth."
"Abby!"
"I'll bet you a week's worth of dinner duty that my mom is at home, alone, this afternoon making lasagna for my brother."
"You talked to her?"
"No."
"You talked to Eric."
"Maybe."
"Did you tell him?"
"Just that we're coming to town. And that I wanted to make sure Mom would be home. So he called her and asked her to make him homemade lasagna for dinner. The sauce takes all afternoon. So where's she gonna go?"
"That's very sneaky."
"I know. Especially since the lasagna was my idea."
"You could have told me."
"Nah, it's more fun to watch you get all wound up." She gives me that cute little mischievous grin of hers.
"Whatever makes you happy." I tell her. But I refrain from reaching over and ruffling her hair because she hates that. I just watch her out of the corner of my eye as she turns up the radio and starts singing along. She looks happy. Genuinely happy. Even though we're on our way to her mother's. So she must be really happy. Chocolate high. Or maybe something else. Ever since that night … that night that we were both so scared that we might lose the baby and then so relieved to see it's little heart beating so strongly on the sonogram, things have been different. In a good way. We've both been positively giddy since then. Well, I was pretty giddy right from the very beginning. And I know Abby was happy all along, but after our scare, her joy has been more obvious. She's acting more like … well, me.
At first , I was the one who wanted to stop everyone I saw on the street and say, "Hey, I'm gonna be a daddy." I was the one wondering aloud what the baby would look like, which of our personality traits she … or he would inherit, what life would be like with a baby in our family. I was the one busily making plans for the future, while Abby seemed somewhat reticent discussing the baby and according plans in any detail. There were times when I worried that she wasn't as on board with the whole baby thing as she was claiming to be. Not that I was worried that she didn't want it; it was more like I was worried that she was still harboring fears about the whole thing and trying to hide her apprehension from me.
But not now. Lately, Abby's been happily joining me in my musings about our future with our child. She's been reading all the pregnancy and child care and parenting books she can get her hands on. She's doing her best to follow all the 'rules' for having a safe and healthy pregnancy. She gets teary-eyed at diaper commercials and smiles at babies in the grocery store. She smiles. And laughs. A lot. When she's not in the grips of a 'mood.'
And I can certainly understand this change in her. It was scary, terrifying really, thinking that something was wrong with baby, that the pregnancy was in jeopardy. To be so convinced that we were so close to disaster just made the relief that we felt that much more acute. I didn't want her to know how scared I was, I didn't want her to know how worried I was that I was going to have to deliver the bad news to her. I've never been so relieved in my life as I was when I examined her and found that everything was just the way it should be. And then … seeing the baby on the screen, watching it's little heartbeat … amazing. Even now, just remembering it makes a little lump form in my throat. And at the time, when I was watching Abby's face change as she stared at our baby on the screen … well, I knew then that things were changing for her. I think that's when it finally sank in. And I'm very glad that she seems so happy. She's that same content, at-peace-with-the-world Abby that I knew those two weeks in Guatemala. I'm glad she's back. Maybe Abby finally figured out her true calling in life.
And whether it's because of her newfound joy or some perfectly reasonable scientific explanation, she certainly is glowing these days. And she's more beautiful than ever. Pregnancy looks good on her.
"What?" She asks me. Oh, I guess I've been stealing glances at her whenever I could. She must have noticed.
"Nothing. Well … I was just thinking that you wear it well."
"What? Chocolate?" She asks, licking her lips.
"No. Pregnancy."
Abby looks down at her belly, smoothes her shirt over her abdomen. "I'm not showing yet. Not really."
"It shows in other ways."
"Like what?"
"Like … your smile. I've never seen you so happy."
"Well, I guess I've never really been this happy."
"I'm glad it's you."
"Huh? Glad it's me what?"
"Having my baby. Becoming the mother of my child. Because this baby is gonna be awfully lucky to have a mother who is made so happy just by the mere fact of her existence."
"We're definitely going to have to find out the sex."
"What?"
"Yeah. Because if this child is a boy, you are going to give him quite the complex by calling him 'she' all the time."
"Sorry. He's going to be lucky to have a mommy who is so happy just because he exists."
"That's better."
"You think it's a boy?"
"No."
"So you do think it's a girl." I say, triumphantly.
"No. I just have no idea."
"Well, Susan thinks it's a girl."
"And Susan is basing that on …"
I shrug. "Maybe we should start taking a poll. We'll see what Maggie and Eric think."
"Yeah, I can't wait to see what they think of this whole thing." Call me crazy, but I think I detect a note of sarcasm there.
"Your mom's gonna be thrilled."
"I know. I just …"
"What?"
"I don't know. Hope she's not too … over the top. Even when she's on her meds she tends to be a little …"
"Enthusiastic?" I supply.
"I was thinking more like 'crazy' but yours sounds better."
"I'm sure it'll be fine, Ab."
"Only one way to find out, huh?" She says, looking out the window. We've just arrived at Maggie's but I'm not sure if Abby's fully prepared.
"You ready?" I ask.
"I guess." She takes a deep breath. "Okay, let's go."
We collect our stuff from the car and head to Maggie's front door. Standing there waiting for Maggie to answer, Abby's biting her lip and worrying about what she's gonna find on the other side of the door. But when Maggie opens the door, she looks perfectly normal, her reading glasses perched on her nose, book in hand. And she's fully dressed. And she smells good. Well, really the whole place smells good. I have to say that I approve of the whole lasagna scheme. Maggie looks out at us for a minute, a look of complete surprise on her face.
"Abby! John!" She gives us a big smile. "What are you doing here?" She sounds happy, but vaguely worried.
"Surprise!" Abby says, "We thought we'd come for a visit."
"Well, isn't this nice? Come in. Come in." We step inside and Maggie immediately pulls Abby into a hug. "Oh, Abby. It's so good to see you. Let me look at you."
"Hi, Mom. It's good to see you, too." Okay, so far so good. They both actually seem happy to see each other. That's a good thing.
She steps back from Abby, and then reaches out to tuck stray wisps of Abby's hair behind her ears. "You look good." She pronounces. "You've got some color in your cheeks for once. I worry about you, you know. That job of yours is so stressful, and I know you don't eat right."
"Mom …"
"And you," Maggie says, turning toward me, "you look like you hardly eat at all." Well, she should try getting in a full meal with Abby in the house. She'll see.
"Hi, Maggie." I say, not quite knowing how else to respond.
"How many times do I have to tell you to call me 'Mom?'" She gives me a hug then. And a kiss on the cheek as she moves away.
"Sorry … Mom."
"That's better. Now put your stuff down. Come on in and sit down." Maggie ushers us into the living room and we all sit down. Abby and I next to each other on the couch, and Maggie in a chair facing us. "Oh, this is so great, having you two here. And you picked a good time to come. I have a lasagna in the oven. Your brother's coming over for dinner. The whole family will be together." More than she knows.
"It smells terrific." I tell Maggie.
"Thanks. It's one of Abby's favorites. How lucky that Eric just happened to ask me to make it today."
"Well, actually … I asked Eric to do that. I really wanted some lasagna."
"You came all this way for lasagna?"
"No, we came to see you. But I though while I was here … And, I wanted to make sure you were gonna be home before we drove seven hours."
"So why did you come to visit? Not that you can't come and visit any time you want, but … you usually don't. Is there some special occasion?" There's something about the way she asks that makes me think she already knows what we're here to tell her. Well, suspects anyway. Abby and I turn to look at each other. Might as well tell her now.
"Well," Abby says. "We wanted to give you something." She turns and looks at me. Oh, I guess she wants me to get it. I retrieve the wrapped box from one of our bags and hand it to Abby as I sit down again.
"Here." Abby says, handing it to her mother. Yes, we're big on ceremony and sentimental speeches in this family.
Maggie looks at the box for a minute. "Well … it's not my birthday…"
"Would you just open it?" Abby asks impatiently.
So we watch as Maggie pulls the paper off the box, opens the lid and pushes the tissue paper aside.
"Oh!" She exclaims, sucking in her breath as she sees the picture frame labeled with the words 'I Love Grandma.' And inside the frame there's an enlarged picture from the sonogram. So basically we've given her a fuzzy black and white picture of the unrecognizable object that is her grandchild. Still, judging by her reaction, I'm assuming that it was enough to get the message across.
"Congratulations … Grandma." Abby says.
"Oh, Abby." Maggie says, getting up and moving over to us. She gives Abby a quick hug before turning to me. She lays her hand on my cheek and gives me a big smile before giving me a tight hug. "Thank you." She whispers in my ear while her arms are wrapped around me. And then she turns back to Abby. She sits down next to her and hugs her again, longer this time. "Oh, sweetie, this is so great. You're gonna have a baby." When they pull out of their embrace, there are tears in both their eyes.
"We're gonna have a baby." Abby says. "You're gonna be a grandmother."
"Oh. I'm gonna be a grandma. I can't believe my baby is going to have a baby."
"Sometimes I can't believe it either." Abby says.
"But you're … okay with it, right?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I am. I wanted it. We were trying to get pregnant. Although, no sooner did we start trying than I freaked out and decided it was a bad idea." Abby turns and looks at me. Takes my hand and gives it a little squeeze. Maggie is holding Abby's other hand. It's a real Hallmark moment. "Luckily," Abby says, "I was already pregnant by then. I just didn't know it yet. But by the time I figured it out, I was fine. And now …" Abby's voice is getting a little shaky.
"We're thrilled. And so excited. We couldn't … wouldn't want to imagine it any other way."
"Oh, I'm so happy for you. For both of you. And for me too." Maggie pats Abby's belly. "That's my grandbaby in there. Hi in there, I'm your grandma." Maggie looks at Abby for a minute. "You've already got a little belly."
"Well, yeah." Abby says. "I'm already fourteen weeks." Maggie looks a little surprised at that, but she doesn't say anything. "Plus, I eat anything that's not nailed down and doesn't run away. I'm not sure if this is baby or ice cream." Abby says, rubbing her little pooch.
"Ice cream? I remember that. When I was pregnant with you, I couldn't get enough. Ice cream, cake, cookie dough, anything sweet really."
I'm nodding as it sounds familiar. Well, not the cookie dough. Raw eggs being a no-no. "Abby likes the sweet stuff too. That and cheese. Yogurt. Cottage cheese. Milkshakes."
"Must be a girl, then."
"Ha!" I say.
"You think it's a girl?" Maggie asks me.
"He's convinced it's a girl."
"Well, according to the old wives' tale, with a girl you eat sweet things … and lots of dairy products. With a boy you'll crave more salty, savory things. I don't know if it's true. But that's how it was for me. With you it was cake. With your brother is was potato chips."
"Oh … cake. I wouldn't mind some cake." Abby says. Translated, that means that if doesn't get some cake pretty soon, we're all gonna be in big trouble.
"We'll have your brother bring one over." Maggie suggests. "Cake, huh? Guess I'm gonna have a little granddaughter."
"See?" I say to Abby.
"Well, I guess we'll find out in few weeks."
"You really want to find out? You don't want to be surprised?" I ask her.
"Yeah, I want to find out. It's a baby, not a birthday gift. I want to know who's in there."
I consider this for a minute. "Okay." I agree.
"How soon will you be able to find out?" Maggie asks.
"We have a sonogram in a few weeks. If we can get a good look, we'll find out then."
"It must be nice to know ahead of time." Maggie says. "I had to guess with you and your brother. You wore nothing but yellow clothes the first six months of your life. And you know, you had no hair. So every time I took you out, people would tell me what a cute little boy you were. Oh! I've got pictures around here somewhere. I'm gonna get them out."
Maggie disappears and returns with a short stack of thin photo albums. "I never did keep those baby books for you kids. I wasn't very good at keeping up with things like that." Abby and I exchange looks. Then Abby looks at Maggie. And the two of them share a laugh. "Obviously. But I wish I had been. I did keep the pictures, though. They used to be in half a dozen shoe boxes, but then one day I decided to organize them. And this one," she says, pulling an album out of the stack, "is Abby's baby pictures."
"You still have these?" Abby asks. "After … everything?"
"Well, no matter what else I left behind, I always took these. Or came back for them. For a while I carried them around in a couple of those big brown envelopes. Well anyway, here they are. There aren't a lot of them, but …"
Maggie opens the book and there's baby Abby. In snapshots and studio portraits, grinning at the camera. A little bald-headed newborn Abby, then an older, chubbier version whose peach fuzz eventually gave way to wispy dark curls. This is the first time I've seen baby pictures of Abby. It just makes me that much happier that she's the one I decided to marry. If our kids look anything like her, they're gonna be damn cute.
The three of us spend a pleasant afternoon looking through the pictures books with Abby and Maggie reminiscing about the good times they can remember. Which is an improvement from dwelling on the bad stuff. Not that I don't understand how the bad things can come sometimes take prominence; it's certainly happened to me often enough. But maybe Abby and her mom are finally starting to get past it. Things seem pretty good right now. We're all just enjoying each other's company and having a good time sitting around and chatting. Well, until Abby starts staring at her own hand like she's debating its nutritional value.
"I'm hungry." Abby announces. But no need to call the networks, this really isn't news. Abby is always hungry.
"Well, of course you are, dear." Maggie says. "You're pregnant." She pats Abby's arm and gives her an understanding smile. "The lasagna should be done, and your brother will be here any minute."
"Oh." Abby says, sounding disappointed. "We forgot to call Eric." Maggie and I look at her. "You know … about the cake." And God help us if Abby doesn't get her cake.
"Well, I can make one." Maggie offers.
"No, don't go to all that trouble." Abby says.
"It's no trouble." Maggie says, waving her arm in a dismissive gesture that I've seen Abby do a thousand times. It makes me smile. Maybe someday I'll watch our child do the exact same thing. "Besides we've got something to celebrate, don't we? I can't believe it. I'm gonna be a grandma."
Maggie heads off to the kitchen, refusing our offers of help, so Abby and I are left alone on the couch. I pick up the album with Abby's baby pictures in it.
"Our kids are gonna be awfully cute. At least if they look anything like their mom." I say, showing Abby a picture that I especially like. Apparently on her first birthday, baby Abby is reaching one finger out toward the cake with a very familiar mischievous little smile on her face. She looked like trouble even then.
"They'll be just as cute if they look like their daddy." She says, as she gets up.
"Where are you going?"
"Someone's tap dancing on my bladder again." I just look at her. I know she can't feel any movement yet. "I have to pee." She explains giving me a 'duh' look.
As soon as she disappears down the hall, the front door opens, and Eric walks in. We greet each other and then head into the kitchen so Eric can say hello to his mom. And stick his fingers in the cake batter.
"Sis!" He calls to Abby as she walks in the room. He runs over and literally sweeps her up into a bear hug.
"Hi, Eric." Abby says cautiously. I know that she views any overly abundant show of emotion from her family as possibly problematic. She's probably evaluating the likelihood of this being evidence of manic behavior.
"You look different." Eric says, holding Abby at arm's length. "It's your hair. Mm, no. Not the hair. Wait, I'll get it."
"I gained some weight." Abby says.
"Women." Eric says, turning to give me an eye roll. "Always worried about gaining weight."
"But I really did gain some weight. That happens when you're pregnant."
Eric does a double take. "You're gonna have a baby?"
"Yeah." Abby says with a little chuckle.
"That's great!" Eric sweeps her back into that hug, this time twirling her around. Maggie's looking on and smiling. And I'm every bit as happy. Eric abruptly stops and puts Abby back down. "Oops, sorry. Guess I shouldn't do that. Sorry, kid." He says in direction of Abby's belly. "You're not gonna throw up on me, are you?"
"No. I'm gonna eat the table cloth, though, if we don't have dinner soon."
"Hurry up with dinner, Grandma." He calls to Maggie. And then he turns to me. Gives me a punch on the arm. And a wink. "If someone had to knock up my sister, I'm glad it was you."
"Especially since he is my husband."
"Well, if someone had to marry my sister and then knock her up …"
"You two had better learn to watch your language now that there's gonna be a baby in the family." Maggie says. I see the look that passes between Abby and Eric.
"Yes, Mommy Dearest." Eric says, giving Maggie a salute. "Uncle Eric will be a good boy. Uncle Eric. I like that. So when are you gonna pop the kid out, Ab?"
"Well, I'm due at the beginning of February."
"That's less than six months. Weird."
"What?"
"Six months from now you'll be a mom. And this guy's gonna be a dad?" Eric gives Abby a look, denoting the craziness of that idea.
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" This guy asks, somewhat indignantly.
"Well, no offense, but you and Abby are … well …"
"What?" Abby asks.
"Kinda weird."
"Weird?" She asks with a laugh. "Oh no. I'm the normal one in this family."
"No, you're the one with the proper brain chemistry. Doesn't mean you're normal. You guys aren't gonna be all uptight with this kid are you?"
"What do you mean uptight? I'm not uptight." Abby protests.
"Oh right. Abby, when I was a kid … hell, even now, you've got like the worst case of mother hen ever. All you ever did when I a kid was tell me not to do stuff because it was too dangerous."
"Eric, you tried to climb the side of our building. You tied your sled to the bumper of Mr. Peterson's car. You slid down the banister head first. Someone had to stop you. You had no fear."
"And you were no fun. Kids need to have fun."
"Fun. Kids need fun. Not danger."
"Danger is fun."
"You're never baby-sitting."
Watching this whole exchange reminds me of every argument my brother and I ever had growing up. I'm getting another flash to the future. A few years from now when we've got a couple kids arguing just for the fun of it. And considering how much Abby and I argue, and how incredibly stubborn we both are, I can only begin to imagine what the kids will be like.
"Maybe we should just have one."
"What?" Abby says, stopping her arguing with Eric long enough to look at me.
"Did I say that out loud?" I ask.
"Dinner's ready." Maggie calls as she starts bringing the food out to the table. All arguments and discussions immediately end in favor of stuffing our faces. Okay, this could be a good thing to remember for the future. When in doubt, feed arguing kids. It's a pretty good philosophy with Abby these days, so why not carry it over to the kids?
Dinner and then the rest of the evening passes pleasantly. We spend a good portion of the night playing a cutthroat game of Monopoly. It does worry me slightly that Abby managed to clean us all out even while simultaneously polishing off half of a cake. Still, I'm kinda of sad to see the evening come to an end. This family thing is pretty fun when no one is under-medicated, over-medicated, or angry at someone else. Abby seems to be enjoying herself as well. I'm glad to see her getting along with Maggie, and not worrying too much about Eric. I tell her as much as soon as we are settled in Maggie's guest room for the night.
"So everything went pretty good, huh?" I ask. "Maggie's happy --"
"But not too happy." Abby clarifies. She snuggles a little closer to me in the bed, laying her head down on my shoulder.
"And you seemed pretty happy tonight yourself when you were kicking our butts at Monopoly."
"That was the cake that was making me so happy. It was good cake."
"Yeah, it was. It was nice of Maggie to make it for you. See? She's good. And Eric seems like he's doing well. I'm glad to see all of you getting along so well."
"Yeah, I hope it lasts. Now that I'm gonna be a mother myself, it seems like a good idea to try and … mend fences, I guess. For the baby's sake."
"It's good for all of us, you know."
"I just really don't want the baby growing up in a family where everyone is always at each other's throats. I want there to be happy memories."
"There will be. You and Maggie found plenty of good stuff to talk about this afternoon when you were going through the pictures."
"Yeah, it wasn't all bad. But the bad was so bad that it kinda overshadowed the good."
"Well that's what you have to hold on to. The good stuff. And concentrate on the future. And making more good memories. With the baby." I move my hand over to rub her belly.
"At least Maggie's happy about being a grandma." Abby says.
"Was that ever in doubt? Abby, she's been talking about grandchildren for as long as I can remember."
"Yeah, I'd say she's been anxiously awaiting this day. Did you see the sewing machine?" Abby asks, gesturing to the machine in the corner.
"What?"
"She's got a drawer full of patterns for baby clothes."
"It's nice that she's excited. She'll be a good grandma. Just like you'll be a good mom." I lean down and kiss Abby's neck.
"John, stop that."
"Telling you what a good mom you're going to be?" I ask innocently.
"No … feeling me up." She says, pulling my hand out from under her shirt.
"Why? When did you decide you didn't like it?"
My new favorite play things are under her shirt. And ever since the soreness went away, she's been more than happy for me to spend hours each day enjoying them. Seems they're rather sensitive these days. Sensitive in a good way. Sensitive enough that I swear sometimes that all I have to do is look at them for Abby to turn into quivering, moaning pool of jell-o. But here she is, pushing me away and turning over onto her side. She snuggles up against me with her back to my chest, but holds my hand firmly on her stomach.
"I didn't say I didn't like it. But I don't want to start anything."
"Why not?"
"John … we're at my mother's."
"So what?"
"She's in the next room."
"Abby, I think your mother knows we have sex." I say, patting her growing little bump.
"That doesn't mean she wants to hear it."
"We could be quiet."
She starts laughing. "Yeah, right. Sure. When was the last time we were quiet?"
"We're always quiet at work."
"You say that like it happens every day."
"Well, not every day." I lean over and kiss her cheek. Then I kiss down her face to her neck.
"John …" It sounds like a protest, but she tilts her head back toward me, giving me greater access to her neck. I slip my hand back under her shirt. She doesn't protest that. So I brush the backs of my fingertips over her ribs lightly before giving her breast the same treatment. By the time my fingers sweep over her nipple, she's that quivering mass of jell-o, moaning quietly. She turns over on to her back, and I bend my head down to capture her lips in a kiss that quickly grows passionate. When we break the kiss, I immediately move my lips back to her neck.
"I can't believe we're gonna do this here." She says. But she's tugging at my shirt, trying to pull it up and over my head. I move away from her long enough to let her. "I don't think you should have sex in your parent's house."
"What do you think teenagers do?" I ask as I pull off her shirt and then return to my former position, burying my head in her neck.
"Do it in cars, the way they are supposed to? Or … sheds, if you're Susan." I move my trail of kisses down her chest while my hands slip under the waist band of her pajama bottoms.
"You wanna go out to the car?" I ask in between kisses.
"No. But there's just something about … well, it's my little brother's bed."
"It's not his bed anymore Abby. Besides, I think you promised to make it up to me … you know, this afternoon in the car?"
"You were the one who said no." She giggles as my hands roam back up her sides after having gotten those pesky pants out of the way.
"I told you, it was a safety hazard. You drive me to distraction enough as it is."
"No pun intended?"
"What?"
"I guess not. Never mind." She says, pushing my head back down toward her chest. Well, who am I to argue. Never argue with your pregnant wife, right? So if that's where she wants my head, I won't fight it.
I carefully trail my tongue over the flesh between her swollen breasts. Her back arches slightly and she moans quietly. Her hands roam over my back and then into my pajama pants. My hands join her own and we manage to take them off. I continue my licking and kissing down to her belly button and then a little lower to the small bulge where our baby is growing.
"Close your eyes, little one." Abby giggles. Just like she does every time.
"Come back here." She instructs, urging me to join her on the pillow. I move back up the along my previous route, kissing her up her belly and then in between her breasts. And then I move to the swell of flesh itself. When I finally capture one of her stiff peaks in my mouth, she gasps. Loudly.
"Shh." I remind her. She just moans in response as I turn my attention to the other breast. If I do this long enough, it will push Abby right over the edge. It certainly has plenty of times so far during this pregnancy. As it is, she's holding my head tight against her engorged flesh. She whimpers when I finally manage to pull my head away, moving up so that I can kiss her lips.
"Did you want to stop?" I ask her playfully when we separate. In response she wraps her arms around me and pulls me to her. I gently lower my body over hers. Her legs wrap around mine. I slip inside of her easily, with a groan.
"Shh." Her turn to remind me.
Her hands on either side of my face, she pulls me close for another kiss as I pump in and out of her gently.
"Uhn. That's nice." She purrs. I increase the strength of my movements and she moans. Loudly. And she tells me I'm loud?
"Abby … shh. You don't want Maggie coming in here to see what's wrong with you." I tell her, pulling away from her slightly.
She just wraps her arm around to the back of my head and pulls me close for a kiss while I move gently inside of her. Slow and steady wins the race tonight. Within moments we've settled into a good rhythm. But as our need increases, so does the pace. And the when the bedsprings start to sing, we both freeze. And when we catch each other's eye, we start laughing. Quietly, of course.
And then I roll us over, putting me under Abby where I can look up and worship her beautiful, curvy body. She pushes herself up and sits straddling me, moving slowly and seductively. She runs her hand over her own voluptuous body and through her silky hair. She still drives me wild. Now more than ever. She's practically purring, I can hear the constant string of sighs escaping from her throat. I move with her, gently, slowly. As the sensations increase, I pull her to me, and when the moment arrives, I struggle not to scream out her name. Instead I capture her lips with my own, our cries of pleasure muffled while the two of us ride along together as the waves of pleasure wash over us.
"Mmm," she makes a contented little noise as she snuggles against my chest. "Thanks for talking me into that."
"My pleasure."
"The feeling is mutual."
"Good to know." I tell her.
She gives me quick kiss on the lips and then rolls away from me. She starts slipping back into her pajamas, tossing mine to me. Yeah, I wouldn't want Maggie opening the door in the morning to ask us how we like our eggs and finding us both naked. That would probably defeat the purpose of the whole 'being quiet' thing. I guess I better get used to it, once we have kids running around the house, we can't exactly be lying around naked then either.
Once we are dressed once again, Abby and I resume our former positions, snuggled up together under the covers. My hand finds it way back to her belly, as it does most nights.
"See, Flubber? I told you meeting the family wouldn't be so bad. Of course, wait until you meet the Carter side of the family. "
"Wait until they find out you call their grandchild 'Flubber.' In my family, that's one of the nicer names anyone could be called … but I don't think Flubber Carter has the kind blue blood ring to it that your parents might hope for." She says, ending with a big yawn. I laugh and kiss the back of her head.
"Good night, Abby." I pat the belly. "Good night, Baby.
"Good night, John." She says in a sleepy voice.
And I close my eyes, feeling relaxed and content. And glad that our first visit to Grandma's has been such a success.