"Something to Be Thankful For"

She's getting big. Well the baby is. Moving, our baby is moving. I love the feeling when I put my hands on her belly and feel the kicks, the turns, the hiccups. There is nothing more amazing on earth than a woman's body. Nothing. She doesn't appreciate it, tells me she's fat, huge. She's not. She's all baby and breasts and well, beautiful. Except for the ankles, the ankles are like my Baka Ivana's. But everything else is lovely.

The mornings we're off we lie in bed, and I rub her belly. I talk to the baby in Croatian. I'm even singing a song to Junior. The same one every day so he'll know it. She teases me, but I tell her to wait and see it will give me an edge with the baby when he cries.

"I don't have breasts, I'll need something"

"So that's it then, my secret weapon are my breasts?" She seems bemused.

"Pretty much."

"And yours is your singing voice? Cause I'm not getting the equality there."

"Well I have to choose my weapon depending on my intended target, your breasts have many tactical advantages."

She giggles at this, see, I told her she just needed some practice, giggling I mean. She's getting good. I consider seizing this opening for some target practice of my own, but she deflects me which is something she's been doing a lot of lately.

"The baby will think you only speak Croatian."

"Well, that's the plan until Junior is at least three."

"What?"


"I'm only speaking Croatian to the baby till he's at least three. It's the best way to pass on the language."

"You're serious. I'm not going to know what you're saying to my child for at least three years?"

I consider this, but I'm not compromising on this point and she knows it.

"Well, you could if you understood Croatian."

Her wheels are turning.

"Okay then, how about this, you talk to the baby in Croatian, and then tell me what you're saying and I'll try to learn while the baby does."

"Junior will outpace you."

"Well I've got a head start if you begin now."

"Fair enough."

"And you could do the same thing when we're making love and you get going in Croatian, that would give me even more of a head start."

I blush.

"Junior won't need to know those words for awhile."

This makes her blush too, and provides me another opening, which I take, but it proves to be tactically challenging to say the least. Unfortunately things go down hill from there. And when, she starts sighing and rolling her eyes when I reach for her, that's the end. I am not going to have our lovemaking feel like her friggin wifely duty.

We've moved past the second trimester hormonal rush, we're into the third trimester. Which means lovemaking is complicated and requires creativity, agility and motivation that sadly Abby lacks. Unfortunately my own motivation is undiminished, but then again I don't have heartburn, backache, a constricted bladder and a rather unwieldy abdomen. It's not like I haven't abstained before and for really a frightfully long time, but it's different when the woman you love is lying next to you. Not that Dani and I didn't have our slow times around the kids. Maybe my memory is faulty on this point or maybe it's the difference between having a baby when you're 20 and when you're . . .not. Anyway, you get my meaning, and I'm getting pretty much nothing.

I know what you're thinking. It's not just sex. It's never been just sex. It was our first connection, what we had when nothing else was working, when nothing about us even made sense. Moments of beauty, of tenderness of mutuality, making love, not sex. We've been so hungry for each other since we got back together, it's made me feel, alive, kept me alive for awhile. I feel like I'm part of her when I'm inside her, like we're part of each other. Knowing she's wanted me as much as I do her, that means something to me, more than she understands, more than I can burden her with.

It's starting to affect my mood. The nurses at work are giving me dirty looks so I know I've been short. In the locker room, I complain to Malik about a missed order. He looks at me unimpressed.

"Pregnant wife huh?"

"What?"

"Happens every time doctor's wife is pregnant, they take it out on the nurses."

My eyes narrow.

"Don't worry Doc, it always passes. Well .. . . .almost always."

"What?"

"Dr. Corday . . . . .".

My eyes get wide, and I'm not sure but I think I must look pretty scared cause he back pedals pretty fast.

"Naw, Doc, you'll be fine, Abby's cool, no worries."

Just then she waddles into the room. No, I mean waddles. One hand on her back her belly pushed out, her gait oddly swaying. She falls onto the sofa and lifts her legs to reveal ankles that must be as big as my calves.

"My back aches, my feet throb, my glucose must be 20, and I can't tie my goddamned shoelace." There are tears in her eyes.

Now its Malik's turn , his eyes get wide, fear plain on his face. He mumbles about letting us have time alone before bolting from the room. Coward.

I hand her a carton of milk from the fridge and some crackers I find in the drawer.I sit down on the tiny edge of couch currently available. I tie her shoelace while I talk.


"I'll find you a sandwich for the ride home, we'll pick up some Chinese from that place you like on the way, and I'll give you a foot rub after dinner." I stand up and then I lean over her and look her in the eyes.

"And this is your last 12 hour shift, no more then 8 from now on. I don't care how short staffed they are."

She looks up at me and for the first time in our married life she nods obediently.

"I'll pull the car into the ambulance bay."

"Luka?"

I'm ready for words of gratitude and affection.

"Haul me off this damn sofa, I've got to pee before my bladder explodes."

Sweet.

I bend over so she can get purchase on my shoulders and as I heave I say

"What about my back?" We hang onto each other after she makes it upright.

"What's the point of being married to a big strong man if I can't take advantage of it?"

"That's what I've been trying to point out to you." I quip.

She smiles, and heads for the bathroom.

She turns around "Luka?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you" I can see that she means it, and I shrug.

"It's the least I can do after knocking you in."

"Up"

*********************************************************

Maggie's coming for Thanksgiving as planned. I tell Abby I'm going to pick her up at the bus station. I want to deal with any awkwardness before Maggie gets here. I'll be damned if I'm going to let anything ruin this holiday for Abby.

"Luka? Over here." She's waving, and smiling "Hi, thanks for coming to get me you're so sweet."

"No problem these yours?' Geez how long is she staying, she's got four bags.

"I just brought a few things for the baby . . .and Abby . . ..and you."

I load everything in the car. Maggie seems surprised and well thrilled that I hold the door open for her and help her in.

Before I can say it she tells me she'd like to buy me some coffee, I guess we both have the same idea. Maggie makes idle chatter until we stop at a coffee shop on the way home.

Over coffee she says, "Luka, I just want to say how sorry I am. I never meant to hurt you, or to bring up such painful, painful memories. I know there's no excuse, but I really hope you can forgive me. I just want us to be . . .close. . . like family."

She watches me with big brown eyes, under her bangs. I meet her gaze.

"It wasn't your fault. It would have happened sometime. I thought I was through it, but I wasn't."

"But if I just hadn't said those things, you might have had more time to process everything."

"No, Maggie, you did me a favor, it would have been far worse if it had come out at the birth or when we brought the baby home."

"You're too kind."

I shake my head. She considers me for a moment. "You love her very much don't you?" The way she says this makes me think of Abby on a cold winter morning long ago when she asked me about Dani. It's a strange feeling.

"Yes"

"She loves you a great deal I can tell by the way she looks at you. You're good for her too."

"We're good for each other."

"Yes, I believe that. Does she ever talk about her father to you Luka?"

"Not much, nothing good."

"She adored him. Before he left I mean. She would put on shows for him, draw him pictures, anything she could think of to make him happy. I always tried to tell her it was me he left, not her, but I'm not sure she ever really believed that."

"Surely she does now."

"Mmmm yes, I'm sure on some level she does, but I don't know those wounds can cut deep."

"Yes"

"It was hard for her, I think especially after the disaster with Richard, to believe that someone could really love her for who she is, not for who they wanted her to be. I saw that when you were together the first time, she wasn't sure of you."

"And you're telling me this now, because . . .. "

"Because now it's different. She is sure of you in a way that I don't think she's ever been sure of anything or anyone else in her life . . .ever, and because I think you should know what that means to her, and because I'm not sure she'll ever know how to tell you that."

Her eyes are full and damn if mine aren't too.

"Thank you Maggie."

"No, thank you Luka."

So we finish our coffee and get in the car where Maggie picks up on the apology thread, telling me how she always manages to say the wrong thing especially when she wants to make a good impression. How her talking has got her into trouble with Abby in the past. Which leads her to telling me Abby stories in general which is rather fun. By the time we get home, we're old friends. And I've heard enough apologies to last a lifetime.

Maggie and I do the cooking, we all stuff ourselves at the table, and have really a great time. Maggie's lively, and I can see where Abby gets her quick mind and her sharp wit. It's odd to see a different reflection of the person you love. I wonder if it's like that for Abby when we're with Tata.

After dinner in the kitchen as we clean up, Maggie asks about names for the baby. What happens next makes me wonder if Abby will ever cease to surprise me. Hell, I hope not.

"Daniel for a boy . . . for Danijela," I can't believe what she's just said. I'm surprised, deeply touched and honestly unsure how I feel about the idea. It's a beautiful thought, a gesture of amazing generosity and self-possession, it awes me, and I feel a surge of love for her.

"And if it's a girl? You have that figured out too?" We've locked eyes, and its one of those moments when the rest of the world seems to slip away, and can it be or is that a flicker of desire I see in her eyes. Then she's damn lucky Maggie's in the room. Because suddenly the idea of taking my very pregnant wife right there on the cold, hard kitchen floor is strangely appealing. Baka ankles or no. Yes, I'm that bad off.

So there it is Daniel Ivica (she doesn't know that part yet) for a boy, Rosa Margaret for a girl. Kovac in any case. Abby's terms. I'll take the deal.

I lie in bed, hands under my head, feeling good, well fed, happy that the day went so well, damn lucky indeed. Abby crawls into bed, but she doesn't do her usual routine of constructing the fucking walls of Jericho with her 40 some odd pillows, or more like the no-fucking walls of Jericho. She surprises me, by reaching for me with a sly smile.

Not wanting to seem too easy, I let out the sigh of one very put out, much as she did the last time I made a move on her.

She pulls back, surprise etched on her very pretty face.

"You must be joking?"

"You're damn right I'm joking." I put my hand behind her head and bring her mouth down on mine. And I let her have her way with me.

I'm just drifting off to sleep, lying on my stomach clinging to the small edge of bed not occupied by Abby and her pillows.

"Luka?" I fight my way back to consciousness. Now a few weeks ago, I would have known what this meant, but even I understand that there is not a snowball's chance in hell that she's wanting another go tonight.

"What?"

"I've been thinking . . . would you mind very much if I took your name?"

Even in my fog, I can tell her voice is tentative, as if this is a favor or big request. Two thoughts enter my head. First, it has always been hers to take or not as she wanted. I'm surprised she feels she needs my permission. I'm not sure why she thought she'd have to butter me up, but who am I to complain. And the second, that my wife has my number, and you know basically I'm screwed. This makes me smile.

"What's mine is yours. Help yourself."

There's a pause. I don't want her to think she's married beneath her.

"But won't that be sort of confusing?" I ask.

"Confusing?"

"Yeah, two Luka's in the same family?"

One of the forty pillows bounces soundly off my head, and I chuckle as I fall into the sleep of the truly content.