A/N: Just to let you guys know, italics is flashbacks! (In case that wasn't clear!) Again please R and R! :)
Five months later
It was Halloween, and just like every other holiday, Halloween was one that 'held a special place' in DJ's heart, and by somewhat forced extension, on account of the older kids, her children's.
Stephanie liked Halloween as much as the next slutty cop or sexy nurse, and even as a child, her staple rabbit costume won the hearts of all the neighbors, her cornfield hair peeking slightly out of her bunny ears, only ever enhancing her demeanor of a sweet little girl turned hyped up sugar fiend.
This year, she was neither a slutty cop, nor a sexy nurse, and she wasn't a bunny rabbit, either. She was just a woman who was six months pregnant, feeling as though she were confined to the couch.
She found herself missing the years of Halloween's past, when her fishnets would be down at her ankles, her stilettos half off, an inevitable transition when the alcohol and tame socializing became a bore; her and David Cantone would be upstairs, in hopefully what was a guest bedroom, having their own fun, doing the downright raunchy version of the Monster Mash.
Then, she found herself missing Jimmy, well, more accurately, being able to curl up against him, feeling his chest rise and fall with the ease of breaths passing through lungs and feel the quiet rumble of his snores, without her belly practically hell bent on keeping them apart.
It struck her sometimes, like it did now, just how different these two relationships were.
With David, though she did love him on some level and enough to say that he was probably her first love, it was the physical attraction between them that was the anchor of their relationship. If they fought, they'd just have make up sex and everything would be smoothed over; and now that she thought about it, that relationship was a friends with benefits type. She loved him, sure, but ultimately, like Ashton Kutcher and Natalie Portman, it was as a friend that she loved to fuck around with. That she could fuck around with, without getting in trouble, but for only so long. Soon, he felt more for her than she did for him, and as it often goes with that cinematically romanticized relationship, they broke up.
Jimmy though, she loved wholeheartedly, and when she told him she wanted the whole Happy Meal, she meant it, though may not have known it to be a proposal of commitment, not at first. Not until he told her he loved her and she clammed up; the feelings she was experiencing, stinging her heart like a raw patch of skin exposed to air, clamping down on it until it could barely beat in a natural euthymic rhythm. Her heart literally skipped beats for this man, a Gibbler, to make everything more surprising in irony, and, of course, Stephanie had no idea what to do. So, she started to make excuses, until, that one fateful Christmas morning, under the winter's dawn, the sheerness of the sunlight and the holiday pep making those words sound even more beautiful, even more monumental: "I love you."
Just then, as if summoned by her thoughts, she heard him call out to her from upstairs. "Steph-o-lantern, are you and Baby ready to take the boys trick-or-treating?
"In a minute babe," she called back, trying, but failing, to get up herself. As she settled back into the cushions, defeated, a hard kick pierced her belly button. She groaned, rubbing the spot where the kick was felt in soothing circles.
"You didn't drink juice with dinner did you? Or any ice cream for dessert? I didn't see you have any when the rest of us did."
Stephanie looked up to see Jimmy standing in front of her now, holding their costumes in his hands. His eyebrows were furrowed with worry. She'd began to forget what he looked like without lines creasing his forehead. She shook her head, feeling yet another kick, this one calculated at her ribs.
"No. I promise I didn't. I swear –"
She cringed as another kick pierced her bladder. "- No junk today. Not one bit. By the way they're kicking though, you'd think I'd downed a Big Gulp in under a minute."
"Awe sweetheart," he cooed, pushing her hair away from her forehead as he knelt down to be at her height. "We don't need to go if you're not up to it. Besides, I'm sure your sister or mine won't mind if we missed the party anyway."
Stephanie sighed. "No. I want to go. We need to get out, because in T-minus three months, there won't be any of that for at least the next year. Besides, I told Gia I'd be there. Now, let's change."
"If you say so," Jimmy said, taking her hand to help her up and passing her costume to her. "You're going to look adorable."
"No I won't."
"Yes you will," he argued, kissing her cheek.
"Won't," she rebutted, manipulating her body in such a way so that she could get the costume on without somehow hurting herself.
"Oh!" Jimmy exclaimed, a hand to his heart that made her anticipate proud dad moments to come. "You are totally rocking that pumpkin."
She smirked. "You look not too shabby in that candlestick."
"Yeah right," he rolled his eyes with a hint of modesty. "It makes me look like I'm scrawny and about three inches taller than I actually am."
"Oh my Lanta!"
Stephanie turned to see DJ behind her, smiling from ear to ear in her Little Red Riding Hood costume. The red, large-buttoned wool coat was done up all the way to the top, the hood up, and in her hand she had a wicker basket filled with actual, homemade cookies inside. Stephanie still couldn't believe she'd went through the trouble, but DJ was convinced the kids would eat them anyways, and it added to her costume. Neither were exactly lies. Matt stood next to her, a smaller, less enthused smile on his face, probably because he was sweating like a pig in that wolf suit, though the head was in his hand, so that had to provide some relief from the humidity.
"Awe, you guys look adorable Deej," Stephanie said. "And I gotta say, the cookies are a nice touch. Can I have one?"
DJ slapped her hand away, shaking her head. "Not until I make my big debut at the party."
She laughed. "You sound like Michelle."
"Oh, dear lord, I do," DJ groaned, laughing. "Fine. One."
Just as Stephanie reached her hand into the basket again, the baby gave her another forceful kick. "You know what? I don't think I will, actually."
Putting her hand to her belly and moving it around in attempt to sooth the baby, Stephanie sighed. "I think Baby's restless."
Looking down at her stomach, she frowned. "No way are you coming out three months early, you got me? I know nobody puts Baby in a corner, but I'm backing you into one, because I want you to be fully grown and healthy when you come into the world, okay?"
Jimmy put his hand on hers. "I agree with, Mommy, Baby. You stay put."
DJ shook her head, a forlorn expression gracing her facial features. "I remember those days. The heartbeat, the kicks, the sleepless nights during the last trimester…"
"Wait," Stephanie stared at her sister. "You mean to tell me that this being awake half the night because Baby won't settle down and is busy doing somersaults in my womb, is a continuous thing?"
"Unfortunately Steph, yeah. For you, especially. Hyperactivity is genetic, you know," she winked, and Stephanie groaned.
"But I just wanna sleep before I give birth, dammit. Is that too much to ask?"
"Yes," DJ answered, gesturing to their costumes. "Pumpkin and a candlestick? Genius."
Stephanie rolled her eyes as she laughed. "Jimmy's idea. It was either this, a pregnant cheerleader and her quarterback boyfriend, which I thought some overly sensitive people might find offensive, or he could be Jonah and I could be the whale, but not ironically. I vetoed the last one, for obvious reasons."
DJ laughed too. Even Matt chuckled, and Jimmy just looked proud of himself.
"Okay everyone! Are we ready? I know I am! Candyland awaits!" Max exclaimed excitedly, and it was like he appeared out of thin air, bouncing on his toes.
All the adults laughed.
"Alright, let's go, buddy," DJ said, taking her son's hand in her own as Matt took her other one.
Jimmy mimicked Matt and took her hand too, swinging their arms.
"I can't wait until we have our kid in between us."
Jimmy squeezed her hand. "Am I really that repulsive?"
She laughed. "No. Not at all. Quite the opposite actually."
Kissing his cheek, she reciprocated his hand squeeze. "I just mean we could do this with them. She swung their arms more vigorously for emphasis. "As a little girl, I used to love being swung in the air by my arms."
"What do you mean? To be honest, Steph, that sounds like torture," he told her with a straight face, so she rushed to explain.
"It's not, babe. Trust me. When I was little, sometimes I would be too lazy or too tired to walk the rest of the way home. So, my Dad and either Uncle Jesse or Joey would take both of my hands, say 'one, two, three, swing!' and lift me off the ground. They'd do that for about three blocks or so, and then one of the guys' arms would be sore. Wimps," she murmured. "I was only like fifty, sixty, pounds at the time."
"Oh," Jimmy said. "Totally not what I had pictured at first. That sounds harmless. And if you loved it, I bet they will too."
Stephanie leaned in to give him a kiss, but before it could go on for too long, DJ cleared her throat. "Be mindful of your surroundings."
"Says the biggest kiss-slut, ever," Stephanie scoffed humorously. "I seem to remember you macking on Mr. Matt over here right in front of your children and father. And uncles, and aunts, and the dog and – "
"Okay, okay," DJ cut her off as Matt chuckled next to her. "I get it. I have no right to be telling you where you can and can't kiss your boyfriend. Sorry."
"Thank you," she said, kissing Jimmy once more, to both satisfy herself and to annoy her sister.
When they were trick-or-treating, Max insisted on pulling his Aunt Stephanie by the arm to every house he went to, and rather harshly, because he was excited to show off his actual cousin. He liked Ramona enough, or so he said, but she wasn't actually related to him. She thought it was adorable, and went along with it, even though her feet were sore and her back ached.
The neighbors' reactions were more of the same, and given that Stephanie now lived in the house where she grew up, many of them couldn't resist saying a variation of 'I remember when you were just a little girl! One of the sweet little Tanners. Now you're all grown and starting a family of your own! Oh, how time flies!'
Other questions were about the baby itself: 'when are you due?' – January 26th. Do you know the sex? – No. Do you want to know? – We want it to be a surprise. And the father? – My boyfriend, Jimmy. You know Kimmy Gibbler? Her younger brother?'
The last question was often posed by the older women, and with her answer came an eyebrow raise that spoke judgement put upon by their generation, which was conventional, grounded in religiosity, a time where men and women got married before having sex, and were married before having children. It was just how things were then, so when she received those reactions, she didn't dwell on them, instead, just brushed them aside with a smile, gesturing over to DJ who stood next to Jimmy. 'And you know Donna Jo of course!'
By the time they got home, organized the kids, which meant promptly inspecting their candy for any surprise razor blades or packages that were open just a tiny bit, enough to raise suspicion, it was just after 9:30, but Stephanie felt as though it were sometime into the next morning. Hiding a yawn behind her hand, she leaned into Jimmy's side, comforted when he put his arm around her midsection, and pressed his hand against her stomach.
"Steph, you seem zonked. Are you sure you have enough energy to go to this party? We could just stay home with Max and Tommy, so that DJ wouldn't have to pay a babysitter. We'll steal candy from Max's stash when he's asleep."
"Hey! I heard that, Gibbler!" Max said, pointing an accusatory finger at Jimmy and holding his paper grocery bag filled to the brim with all types of sweets, to his chest. "And don't you even think about taking any of my mini M&Ms or you're a dead man."
Stephanie smiled but shook her head. "No, I can rally. Let me just get some water, and then we'll head out with the others."
"No worries, Maximillian. I hate M&Ms anyway. I'm more of a Smarties guy myself. Or Sweet Tarts. Those are good."
Max's eyes narrowed as he stared at him, while Jimmy just shrugged.
"You're not making a very good case for yourself, Gobbler. If you're going to be my cousin's Daddy, you better redeem yourself. If you like Skittles, I'll forgive you for saying you don't like M&M's. And I'll be okay with you being my cousin's Daddy."
"Actually, I happen to love Skittles. And to set the record straight on two things," Jimmy smirked, his tone teasing. "I believe I told you that I hate M&Ms, not just don't like them, and sorry to ruin what you probably believe to be true about a stork and doorsteps, but there's no way that you can stop me from being their Daddy, kiddo."
Max frowned, and Stephanie laughed, lightly smacking her boyfriend on the arm. "You stop that! Listen Max, Jimmy's just having fun with you, you know that, right bud?"
Max nodded, and Stephanie went over to give him a kiss on the cheek, which he accepted with a cheeky grin. This one, unlike her other nephew, Jackson, loved affection and poured himself into it as much as he could; whenever there was an opportunity for a hug, or a kiss, or just sitting beside someone, he was all over it. It was adorable. She hoped her child would be just like that.
"As long as you're happy Aunt Stephanie, and love Jimmy enough to want to marry him for real, then I'm happy too."
Stephanie bit her lip to keep from losing her composure and turning into a puddle of tears. Damn pregnancy hormones. "Max…that's so incredibly sweet of you to say. I love you, buddy."
"I love you too," Max told her, snuggling into her hug, mashing himself gently against the swell of her burgeoning belly.
"But what do you mean, 'get married for real'?"
Max pulled back to look at her with an 'are you stupid?' inflection nonverbally etched into the corners of his mouth as he tried not to laugh and the slope of his eyebrows, as if he didn't quite believe that she was asking this question.
"I mean, like have a ceremony and stuff, with the poufy dress and the up-do and the tuxedo and the buffet, and the...the vows, you can't forget the vows! When are you going to do that? I mean, you might as well just do it, because Jimmy sleeps here every night, in the same bed as you, and you spend like every waking moment of the day together, you love each other, and you're the parents of my cousin. So all you need to do is make it official, and have the ceremony. It'll be the real deal, then."
"Wait, Max, how do you know Jimmy sleeps here? His RV's just outside. Why would he be sleeping here, if he has his own place to sleep?" Stephanie asked her nephew, confused, but animatedly so, playing to the naivety of a child, hoping that if she asked this with enough disbelief, he'd drop it entirely.
Although, as he kept staring at her, she couldn't help but be suddenly wistful for the day he was talking all about.
That same expression from before came over his face, and he sighed, putting a hand on his hip, an action that was split between cute, and something slightly emasculating. "Aunt Stephanie, I'm not dumb. I'm ten years old. Double digits. I know things."
"Oh yeah?" DJ said in amusement. "What kinds of things?"
This was to humor the boy, she knew, but she wasn't quick to underestimate the mind of Maxwell Fuller. That child could eavesdrop like no other, and wasn't shy about letting people know; even when he was smaller, he was fearless that way, offering excerpts that were oddly verbatim from a conversation that was happening in the other room – 'ugh, that bitch of a woman is getting on my last nerve, I tell you!'; ruining birthday surprises – "Kimmy! Mom said she's planning you a surprise birthday party…whoops…' and the most famous one to date – 'Kimmy and Fernando were kissing in the living room. A lot. But they don't want Ramona to know, so sh!' Of course, Ramona was at the refrigerator, looking for the orange juice, but was concealed from view by the door, and, well, that was that. They all laugh about it now.
"Yeah. I'd like to know too, Max. Lay it on me."
Max looked from her to Jimmy, and then back again. She found herself anticipating the answer to her sister's question, more than she would have otherwise liked to admit.
"Well, when I had a bad dream a few nights ago I snuck down to your bedroom because I didn't want to wake Mom and Tommy, who was sick. And you always help the bad dreams go away."
Stephanie's heart warmed at that. He sounded so little to her in that moment, so defenseless, and so fragile that when she hugged him close to her, she half expected the oddly aromatic scent of newborn baby to emanate from the soft skin of his head, now covered by a mop of kempt boyish hair.
"I'm happy to help, sweet boy," she said, her words murmured by her kissing his forehead.
"But…how does – wait, when you came to see me, was I … I was wearing PJ's right, bud?"
"Stephanie!" DJ exclaimed, but turned it down a notch when she realized her son might not understand the implications of the question. "Was she, Max?"
"Of course she was. That's what we wear to bed. So obviously Aunt Stephanie was wearing them. They were cute, too. Pink and black checkered ones."
"Oh thank you god," Stephanie exhaled in relief, and from next to her, she heard Jimmy chuckle quietly, though she doubt anybody else had.
She could remember being stupidly immersed in her desires and intense physical attraction towards him, longing for the very second she would feel him as close as he could ever be to her; for the elastic to snap, and that crazy, aggressive, pull of their bodies attempting to come together would give, and it would be more of a submissive duress; their bodies coming to an understanding that it was useless to try and stop it – as if either of them actually wanted to.
"And when I climbed up onto the other side of your bed, I hit something with my knees."
Jimmy lightly elbowed her, and pretty quickly, she could figure out what he was trying to say. That next morning, he complained of a soreness around his calves, but she knew they hadn't went to that point the night before, given that she was six months pregnant. So, the resulting bruise remained a mystery. Until now.
"Then I saw a head against a pillow, and heard snoring. I left the room after that. Then, the next morning, when I saw Jimmy in the kitchen and he had major bedhead, I put two and two together."
"Oh. Well, that makes sense, then," Stephanie nodded her head, and watched as DJ did too, but gave her the ultimate side eye as she did.
"Yes, it does. And so, because you guys sleep together in the same bed, and have breakfast together, and lunch and dinner, and you're having a baby together, then you should be married."
The blatant way he said this was typical of a child, so assured and certain with what they were saying, so much so that it could never be wrong, not in any sense. It made her smile, but then there they came: Max's next words. They took the entirety of her entrails and twisted them, pulled them forcefully from her body, so all that was left was this hollowness so caverned that not even an echo of a yell could be heard.
"My Mom and Dad were married. For 15 years. They did all that stuff too. Until Dad wasn't in their bed anymore, or sitting in his spot at the kitchen table, or being Jackson's and my Dad anymore."
Max slumped down onto the couch, and Cosmo curled up beside him, whimpering a little. Then, Max whispered so quietly, it was just as likely it hadn't come from him at all but the wind, whining with sepulchral undertones, a faint hissing as it came inside through the front door, open just a crack.
"Because he died in a stupid fire."
Stephanie remembered that. Of course she remembered that. Is what she should be thinking. That is, if she were a decent sister, or even just a half-decent human being. In truth though, she couldn't be thinking like that, not in good conscience.
When her phone rang at around three in the morning, Stephanie was angry. She'd been in what she'd remembered as the deepest sleep she's ever had since forever, with her tank top ridden up to past her midriff, and her pyjama bottoms completely off; who knew where they'd gone, in the sheets at the bottom of the bed, on the floor, or were they thrown with annoyance against the door, since then laying in a heap in front of it? There was no telling. Not when she was that tired. Or that drunk. Still. Four or so odd hours later.
When she finally had her phone in her grip – she'd been fumbling around for it on the nightstand for longer than should have been necessary – the screen was a bleary mess. She couldn't see who was calling. And for a startling minute, she couldn't hear who it was, either. It was the combination of her mind's languidness and the sobs that were insanely composed - soft, but heartbreaking just the same, as though the person didn't quite comprehend what was going on, much like Stephanie herself in that moment, but somehow knew that they should be crying.
"Steph?"
"Deej? Are you alright?"
Stephanie dug the back of her hand into her eyes, breathing in and out, hoping against hope that nothing was seriously wrong.
"I – um – tonight – there was a big – a big structure fire in some apartment complex in the next town over and – and – Tom he – he was – a beam from the ceiling fell and it was on fire, obviously and it was heavy and – and he – he's not – he didn't – "
She gasped, covering her mouth, and began choking on the instantaneousness of her grief. She prayed that DJ wouldn't say the words. It wasn't because she couldn't stand to hear it, although she really couldn't. It was because she didn't want the shock to wear off, she yearned for it to keep DJ feeling like she was in motion, to keep her feeling like gravity did exist, that she was functioning as she would usually, without the force of devastating loss oppressing her every attempt at living a normal life again, after tonight.
"He died. My husband is dead, Stephanie."
There it is. She still sounded vacant, as though she were a discombobulated child waking from a nap, unsure if the scenes they were seeing in their sleep were real, and they've lived them, or are living them, or if they were merely just dreams, disappearing before their very consciousness, and never truly remembered. Oh, how she wished, with every aching muscle in her body, that this was a dream.
"Oh, honey," Stephanie cooed, holding the phone so tight her knuckles were turning white, or more accurately, she felt her circulation go, because her eyes were shut so tight it was a miracle she could see even the black of her eyelids. "I am so, so, sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am."
There was silence, then there was a big sigh and a phlegmy cough. "I have two small boys to raise and I'm seven and a half months pregnant with our third."
There was a pause, and she just let it continue, not knowing what the right thing to say was, because nothing she could think to say, no matter how eloquent (which, in her residually drunken state, was asking a lot) it could never absolve the pain.
"Steph, how am I going to tell the boys? He was my everything. Their everything. I couldn't possibly –"
Stephanie took one hand away from the phone, navigating her body by touch, and felt Mr. Bear along her ribcage, somehow instantly comforted.
"- Just…Deej, you remember how Dad told us that Mom had died, right?"
"Of course. He called a family meeting, sat us on the couch, and gave us what I thought was just going to be an unmemorable lecture on drunk driving…before telling us that with drunk drivers often comes victimized death, and that our mother was one of those victims. That she died on scene, instantly and painlessly."
"And?" she prodded, after giving her sister the pause she needed to collect herself.
"And that she loved us very much, and she would want us to be sad, but not too sad, because we have to remember that up where she is now, is a better place than where we are, here."
Stephanie couldn't help but smile silently to herself, the left side of her mouth upturning only slightly. "That's right. You can take a little comfort in that Tom is there with Mom now. That they're safe. Experiencing no pain. And watching over us always."
She felt as if the tables have turned from the time when they were kids, going back to the moment she took her first breath on this earth, and from every moment since. For the first time, it was Stephanie who was taking on the motherly role in their relationship, but it didn't feel how she expected it to; she thought she'd feel this onslaught of unsurmountable responsibility, and be grappling with the intensity of her sister's every emotion, so viscerally attuned as if it were her own. This was true. She was, on both accounts. The feeling that she hadn't been prepared for though, came in a cresting wave of warmth.
"Thanks, Steph. I love you so much."
"I love you too, Deej." Stephanie clucked her tongue in thought, though hoped DJ couldn't hear it through the speaker, because it spoke every bit of sympathy and worry she had for her older sister.
"You know what? I'm sure the boys miss their Aunt Stephanie. I haven't seen the little nuggets since Christmas, after all. And I want to be there for you. No, scratch that. I need to be there. I'm catching the next flight out of London. No ifs ands or buts. Because nobody wants to see those."
When DJ laughed, Stephanie did too, but both were elegiac and shallow sounding. In those laughs, they were both remembering their mother, who's famous line that was, and now Tom, who was hopefully at peace.
"Okay," DJ whispered in effortless compliance, like a child who woke up from a nightmare and was promptly told to go back to sleep after being talked down. "Thank you."
Presently, Stephanie watched as DJ hugged her middle child close, and kissed his head, similar to what she'd done not even five minutes before. It was crazy how the atmosphere had changed; how random yet completely tethered moments in life threw you into memories so fast, you were left tumbling through them, lost and confused, because weren't you just laughing at something funny? Why are you crying now? Even Baby was quiet. Not even a single kick.
"Oh, buddy. I miss your Dad too. Every single day. But you know what?"
"What?
"It's really good to think about him. I do. I think about him at least once a day. Sometimes more, depending on what I'm doing."
"Really?" Max asked, snuggling further into his mom's chest and staring up at her with questions forming in his brain, showing themselves through his expressivist's eyes. If you wanted to read him, what he was thinking, how he was feeling, his eyes were the first place to look. Always. Stephanie loved that about her nephew. Mostly because it reminded her so much of herself.
"Yep. Just yesterday, I was outside playing fetch with Cosmo in the yard, and when he brought the ball back to me, he dropped it at my feet and tilted his head to the left as if he was saying something like: 'well, what are you waiting for? Are you going to throw it again or what?'"
"Why did that remind you of Dad? Cosmo always does that. Don't all dogs?"
"Well maybe," DJ said. "But it made me think of him because when Dad met me, he had a two year old Lab named Fletcher. And Fletcher was full of energy, always bouncing off the walls, even as he got to be a little older, he never slowed down. It's a breed thing.
"And there was this one time when Fletcher crashed our date – if we were at his place Fletcher was always there, which I loved, he was a sweetie, but this time, he was craving exercise, not content with sitting around inside.
"And so, we took him to the park. Played fetch. Every, single, time. I'm not kidding. Fletcher would do that exact thing that Cosmo was doing when he brought the ball back, and your Dad was so proud, going on and on about how expressive he was and how good at bringing back the ball he was. I mean, he was a retriever so that wasn't exactly a surprise, but I wasn't going to say anything."
"Oh, I see," Max smiled. "I like that story. And I like that Cosmo makes you remember Dad. Now when I play fetch with Cosmo, I'll think of this story, and remember him too."
"Good," DJ told him, kissing his cheek and bouncing him a little on her knee, like she does to Tommy, a maternal habit of sorts. "Did I ever tell you the story about when Jackson was just a toddler and Fletcher loved to nip at his tiny toddler toes?"
"No," Max grinned, anticipating it now.
"Well, your brother was probably two or three, and Fletcher was nine, or around there, but still acted like a puppy. So, one day, your Dad had taken the dog for a walk, and I was at home with Jackson, watching Blue's Clues. Or was it Barney? Sesame Street, maybe? Anyway, doesn't matter. One of them. And we were – "
"Wait, hold on. Are you saying Jackson watched Sesame Street? And Barney? And Blue's Clues? They were all my favorites too! We're the same!" Max puffed out his chest slightly. "That's so cool! I can't wait to tell him."
DJ laughed and so did Stephanie. In that second, even though she hasn't even given birth to her first child yet, and logically knew that getting pregnant again was next to impossible, she wanted to give the baby a sibling, biological or otherwise. She hoped Jimmy would feel the same. Or already does. She hoped they'd be as close as Jackson and Max were, with little Tommy soon joining them in their bond.
"I'm sure he'd like to hear it, bud." DJ responded, continuing her story.
"And so, when Dad got home Fletcher came ripping through the house, and little Jackson was sitting on his plush chair in front of the TV, didn't even see him. That is, until Fletcher bit four toes in one go. Jackson cried and cried, so much that I started to worry we would never be able to calm him down. Fletcher never bit our toes, just Jackson's, which we found odd. It was kind of cute the first time, but not so much the second, or third, or fourth.
"We were this close to shipping him off to Aunt Stephanie in London. Or, wherever she happened to be." DJ smiled at her, a teasing nuance in her expression. "You would've loved that right, Steph?"
"I would've hurt you," she said, shaking her head with a smile of her own, which said she didn't really mean that. "My apartment at the time allowed no pets, and my roommate was allergic. So that would have been a pretty big problem."
"Luckily, as soon as Fletcher understood that it hurt when he did that, and Jackson wasn't playing, he stopped."
"Well that's good," Max said, getting off the couch and stretching his arms. "Does anybody else want something from my stash? This is a limited time offer. I've got Reece, Red Vines, Smarties, Sweet Tarts, Skittles, and etcetera."
"No thank you Max," DJ said, and Stephanie politely declined with the rest of them as well, even though she could really go for some Red Vines right about now. She didn't want Baby tossing and turning all night because she gave them sugar right before bed.
When DJ stood up as well, she passed by her son and kissed him once more. "You okay now?"
With a mouthful of Skittles, Max nodded, swallowing before speaking. "I'm better. Thanks, Mom. I love you."
"Awe, I love you too, my baby."
"Isn't Tommy your baby?"
"You all are," DJ told him, smiling and bringing him into a hug against her chest. "Remember, I'll love you forever, I'll love you for always, as long as I'm living – "
"My baby you'll be," Max finished for her, as a sheepish, embarrassed blush that was so unlike him, skittered across his cheeks. "I know."
DJ crossed her arms, raising her eyebrow. "Are you embarrassed of me, Maxwell Fuller?"
"Jackson is," Max replied, also crossing his arms.
"So you have to be?" DJ asked, sighing. "Jackson's a teenager. He's supposed to be. It's in the job description. But you? I didn't expect that."
Max shrugged. "I'm ten years old. Isn't that when kids start getting embarrassed by their parents?"
"No," Stephanie interjected, laughing and allowing DJ to save face by not having to answer.
"You don't have to be embarrassed until at least thirty."
She glanced at her sister, who was currently trying to take a selfie, but was struggling to pose and hold the phone at the same time.
"Okay, twenty-five," she refuted her earlier claim with a shake of her head. "Seriously Deej? You're not really pleading your case here."
"Hm? What? Oh, sorry. I was just snapping Steve back."
As she said the word 'snapping', DJ snapped her fingers. Actually snapped her fingers.
"Did you really just do that? Please don't. Never again," Stephanie groaned, then laughed, when she asked her why it was called snapchat in the first place, 'if there's no snapping involved?'
It was hard to tell if DJ was joking or not, and just then Ramona came into the room, having evidently heard the last part of their conversation. "Because it's an app that allows for you to 'snap' pictures of yourself, or whatever, and put a caption on them to 'chat' with someone. So, Snapchat. No snapping whatsoever. You're not a one-man doo-wop group. Get with the times, DJ."
Stephanie couldn't help but roll her eyes as Kimmy backpacked on to her daughter. "Yeah, Deej. Get with the times."
"And you're 'with the times, Kimmy?"
Kimmy turned her nose up in that quintessential Kimmy way of hers and nodded once. "Totally, Steph. I know all of the words to Despacito. Even the Spanish verses."
Stephanie scoffed, her reproach transparent in her expression and voice. "Sure you do. I don't even know them. I barely know the chorus. And I was a deejay for a living. You know how often that song was requested? How many times I had to remix it into something? I've heard it so much, I think I actually hate it, now."
"Okay," Kimmy resigned, shaking her head. "I don't know the Spanish parts. I just hum it. Even the chorus. With a few Doritos here and there. Ramona though, she can sing the whole song. I've heard her – into her hairbrush in her bedroom – like we all used to do. "
Kimmy smiled ruminatively.
Ramona, from beside her mother, smirked, embarrassed at having been caught, but also boasted her talent. "It's my party trick."
Stephanie rose her eyebrow at her and Ramona just giggled and gave a salacious little wink, just for her benefit, she was sure.
"Despacito? That sounds like the name of a rundown burrito joint." DJ remarked. "It's a song?"
Stephanie fought the urge to smack her upside the head for that comment. How could she not have heard it before? Or at least heard of it? Answer: she's DJ. Still stuck in the roundabout that is the '90s, never having made it onto the main road with the rest of them.
"Um, obviously, Mom. It was a top summer jam for like a year," Max said, pulling off a piece of licorice from the stick with his teeth. "It's 'my song.' I can't believe you don't know it. How are you my mother?"
DJ laughed, putting her palm against her son's back and shoving him lightly, all in good fun.
"A little something called luck," she told him, kissing the back of his head. "You, Jackson and Tommy are the best kids ever."
"Well thank you," Max responded, emboldened, his hand against his chest with sickening melodrama, teetering very near to the edge that separated unwitting and adorable, from egotistical and cringe worthy. "It's about time someone said something."
About twenty minutes later, after the babysitter had arrived and Jackson and Ramona left for their own party at Popko's, they were finally on their way. After arriving, Stephanie was instantly engulfed in a group of people, all wanting to touch her belly and coo over it. She allowed them, embracing Gia in a friendly hug after she'd had her turn, babbling to Stephanie about her pregnancies with all four kids; how she remembered that by month eight it was the most uncomfortable thing she's ever felt, next to actually giving birth, of course.
"You wouldn't believe it Steph. It's crazy."
"Oh, great," Stephanie sighed. "It's not like I'm in heaven right now or anything, either."
Gia laughed, and Jimmy, from beside her, insisted that if she weren't feeling well that they could go home.
She glanced at Gia and then back at her boyfriend. "I think…would you mind, Gia? I'm just really…Baby's really annoyed with me right now, apparently. They're kicking up a storm."
"No, not at all. You go, honey. I'll be fine by myself. I'm a big girl." Gia took a swig of her wine to prove the point. "And you really don't know Baby's gender?"
"No, Gia," Stephanie shook her head with a smile.
"But say, if you did," she pushed, "you'd tell me? Your best friend?"
"If Stephanie knew the sex of her baby, she'd tell me first. I'm her sister. Her bestest friend. Isn't that right, Steph?"
Stephanie rolled her eyes. Not this again. "Deej – "
"Bestest? What are you, five years old?" Gia sneered, imitating Stephanie's eye roll in different context.
DJ mumbled under her breath intelligibly. Then she spoke up. "Forget it. I'm not here to have this fight with you. I'm here to check on my little sister. How are you doing, Steph?"
DJ put her hand on her arm and suddenly she felt compelled to tell the truth. "I'm exhausted. I'm feeling crappy because Baby will not stop moving, and I'm cold. It's so damn cold in here."
"Awe," DJ said, though it was in legitimate empathy, even though Stephanie knew she sounded like a whiney complainer. "Okay. I'm sure Matt wouldn't mind leaving early. I'll go tell him we're going to take you home."
"No, Deej. Seriously. It's fine. Jimmy and I can – "
"I'll take you home, BFF," Gia interjected, linking their arms, and with her movement, her seashell bra fell slightly, and her red wig brushed Stephanie's shoulder.
"No, really, Gia it's – "
"BFF? What are you, thirteen?" DJ asked, with a spark of passive insult, and Stephanie almost lost it.
"I've got it from here. Besides, I don't really think you should be going anywhere with next to nothing on your body. What if your children could see you now?"
Gia huffed, crossing her arms almost self-consciously over her chest. "They're not here. And for your information, my ex-husband had a lot to say about it when he came to pick them up. It's sexy. Unlike your costume. Little Red Virgin-Girl."
DJ gasped, her mouth agape in shock. "Well at least I'm not you. Ariel the Little Whore."
"Okay, okay, girls! That's enough out of you," Stephanie interrupted, keeping them at a distance from one another with her distended belly. "Wow. I actually feel like a mother."
Both women glared at each other, but then looked at her with adoring expressions. "That's because you are, Steph." DJ told her, as Gia nodded. "Have I even said congratulations yet?"
Stephanie grinned. "Only about a million times. Now Deej, this mommy needs some sleep. So Jimmy and I – just us two – are going home. And getting a cab. And you and your lover boy are staying out as long as you like. Jimmy will make sure the kids get home safe from Bobby's. I promise."
"Fine," DJ said, but with the smirk that came over her face as she glanced covertly at Matt, said that the arrangement was much better than fine.
Jimmy kissed her temple and helped Stephanie put on her jacket. She hadn't even registered that he'd been gone. "Thanks, babe."
"You're welcome. I called the cab. They'll be here in five."
"Sounds perfect," she sighed, leaning into him and closing her eyes. "And I apologize in advance if I fall asleep on the way home."
He laughed, kissing the top of her head. "No need to apologize, sweetheart."