It's time for my my birthday oneshot! Last year's was a little tiny seed called "The Girls Only." Once again, I can't explain this premise very articulately but one scene in particular has been in my head for months. I want to warn you this deals with race. I wrote it first person from April's POV so I could be as authentic as possible writing it, because though I am not only white…I more than pass and that's what matters in this country.

I'm not trying to make a big statement or anything. I just decided to explore how these characters would react in this situation/world. I thought it might be sexier than it turned out, but it goes father into the discussion than I'd planned at all. It's early TGO though, so I didn't try to foreshadow or anything. That's all. If you'd like to discuss it with me, please do..,but I'll only entertain legitimate mature conversation. I decided not to do research at all for this…I do that to get facts right at times. But this whole thing was more of a subjective experience. That's why I chose 1st person, April, like I said. I couldn't do a mixed man's experience justice. But race aside, please know that I know oppression…for what that's worth.

I think this negates some early early early years oneshot details, specifically "Baby Steps" when Bellie finds out about Tee….but as I know this world more now, trust these details please…

100 Encore, Day 90: "Fire Drill" (TGO Early) (Also the final bow...only made it to 90 but OK with that)

"Are you as hungry as mommy, Bellie girl?" I asked, as we step into the Applebee's, a few minutes behind Jackson. He helped with everything often, but a diaper explosion in the backseat of the car while driving was his limit. He'd agreed to stop at the Appplebee's instead of taking our 16-month old to Chez though, so I'd let him slide. Toddlers and fancy French food didn't mix, not to mention that baby girl number two and I really just wanted some loaded cheese fries, thank you very much. We had just come from the ultrasound appointment confirming the sex, and had spent the entire day before the appointment prepping Bellie for baby.

"Aren't you so excited about baby sister?"

"No beebee…" she put her tiny hand over my mouth.

"Hey! That's not nice! Well, mama's excited I don't have to buy any new clothes or toys."

"Toy-ssss!'

"Oh that one you say fine, huh? Let's go find daddy. I brought you a book to read while we wait for food." I smiled at the hostess. "My husband just came in a few minutes ago, asked for booster seat?"

"Yes, right this way." She smiled at me, then down at my belly. Ever since I was a little girl, I'd waited to get that smile from people. "How far along?"

"20 weeks. We just came from finding out Arabella is getting a baby sister, right diva?" I kissed her cheek and she shook her head against my chest.

"No!" The hostess laughed, and so I did, but I was a hundred percent sure it was not supposed to be quite this hard to get your kid to acknowledge her sibling. No matter that this was the first day they were being introduced, She might only know a handful of words, but she'd certainly earned her nickname.

"Here you are." She led us in back to Jackson, who was engaged in polite conversation with the woman at a table a few feet from us. He was good at that sort of thing; charming patients and the old, close-minded higher-ups at the foundation. But he never initiated it at a place like this. He'd been pretty upset I begged for Applebees, preferring fine dining, at places where he knew the chef.

I knew that look in her eye though, and was impressed she had the confidence to talk to him. My husband's ring was very much visible on the correct finger.

"Oh hey," he turned as soon as he saw us, bold stranger forgotten. "I got her a juice and you a milkshake, chocolate and peanut butter."

"Mmm, I love you…" I said, trying to get Bellie's feet to cooperate and go in the highchair, but she was fighting me.

"Oh you're with her …."

We both heard it, but were too busy dealing with our daughter to acknowledge it. "Dada…" she tried whining, reaching her hands out to him.

"No. We're eating Arabella. Everyone sits in their own chairs. You be nice for mama or no juicy….we'll go home." I thought I heard Jackson's friend clear her throat obnoxiously, but convinced myself I was mistaken.

"Jus! Jus!"

"Yeah, great try diva….here, wanna read a book?" I said, rummaging through the diaper bag after I got her to sit. But a runner came with our drinks.

"April, don't read here. Just…relax sweetheart…" He moved his chair closer to us and started helping Arabella drink. He reached in the diaper bag for the rainbow keys with the animal faces on them that still entertained her for some reason. Then he stole a sip of my milkshake and tried to distract me by kissing that spot on my neck.

"Hey! Don't do that here!" I giggled. But his attention quickly shifted somewhere else.

"Disgusting!" she huffed.

Jackson cleared his throat. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, you heard me. You know exactly what you're doing…."

"I'm sorry, but I don't know you and this is my wife so…"

"How are you guys doing? I'm Kyle, I hope I got those drinks alright for you." Our waiter unknowingly prevented the woman from answering Jackson introducing himself to me.

"Yeah you both did," I squeezed my husband's hand. "Right Bellie, daddy picked yummy juicy?" she nodded, straw in her mouth.

"So can I get you some appetizers?"

I blinked at Jackson, nervous. But he nodded. "Yeah, can you get us the loaded cheese fries…extra loaded. And…anything else, babe?"

"No, that's good for now."

"So a black woman isn't good enough for you?" She started again when Kyle left our little corner.

"Sorry, what country do you think you're in right now? What decade?"

"I know where I am, and I know the battle I have to fight everyday. Men like you make it harder for black women." I stood up and moved to Arabella's side. Jackson was preoccupied, and I knew how to handle juice duty better than his current situation.

People stared at us sometimes. But I always assumed it was because my husband was so undeniably handsome and my beauty was more…understated than his. Or because he saw nothing wrong with hanging his daughter upside down like a monkey in the middle of the mall. It could've been related to race sometimes, but no one had ever been bold enough to vocalize feelings.

"You mean an ignorant black woman?"

"Honey just ignore her," I whispered, through gritted teeth and turned back to Bellie. "Is that a monkey face on that key, silly girl? What sound does a monkey make?"

"Ohh ohh ahh ahh ahh." I distracted her, before the key reached her mouth.

"Good girl. You're so smart, my pretty girl." I stood up and lifted her out of the highchair, completely breaking our mealtime rule. I suddenly just wanted to hold my baby. "C'mon, you want some of mama's milkshake, huh?" I kissed her cheek and we sat down.

"That's right, stay out of it, sweetheart."

I took a deep breath, unsure what to do. I didn't tolerate this level of nerve in my E.R. But it was easy to put people in their place when their lives were literally on the line. I wanted to support my husband in this, to show him that I could stand up for myself. But I had to take care of my babies, too. And I wasn't exactly sure what to say.

Integrating into the Avery family was difficult for me for a lot of different reasons. None of them had anything to do with the color of my skin.

He stood up, and I tried to grab his hand.

"Jackson!" This woman had no idea who she was messing with. He would never hit a woman, but that didn't mean he walked away from a fight easily.

"She's got her battles mixed up. It makes no sense. She needs to know that who I love has nothing to do with her struggle."

I sighed, giving Bellie the milkshake straw. She smiled up at me, laughing, and I tickled her tummy. I just wanted to focus on her in this moment. "Again?" I asked, holding the straw steady. But she shook her head.

"Mama beebee."

I opened my mouth wide in shock. "You want mama and sissy to have a sip?" She nodded, smiling.

"…You just have no IDEA…to insinuate that I wouldn't stand next to you, next to my own DAUGHTERS…You're no different than the people you ACTUALLY should be educating."

The woman shrugged. "I just think you should appreciate black women, that's all. You just think she makes you happy. What? You're too light for me?" She smirked.

"Dada?" Bellie looked around the table, confused, gripping the straw.

"Dada will be right back. You drink." I gave her another sip.

A few feet away, Jackson threw up his hands. "I'm a stranger to you. You are not entitled to feel offended by my wife because we spoke two sentences and share the same skin color….TWO…" He shook his head, but didn't move yet.

The milkshake stopped capturing Bellie's attention. She heard Jackson raise his voice and instantly burst into tears. "DADA!"

I stood up with her in my arms, trying to calm her down. "Shhh….he's right there diva, see?"

He turned around when he heard her. "DADA!"

She reached her little hands out to him and I rubbed my belly quickly with my free hand, begging him to come to us. "Jackson, please…please just…"

He listened, taking Bellie from me and kissing her forehead, then my lips. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin your meal… " We started walking out. I knew Jackson wouldn't want to get this woman kicked out of Applebees when he could easily get the best table at Chez just by making a phone call on the way there. I couldn't help but glance back at her smirk. "Hey…eyes forward, please…" He squeezed my hand.

"You didn't ruin anything. I'm sorry, we should've gone to Chez."

"No, don't you apologize. I'll call Chris on the way home…he'll make your cheese fries and whatever else and we'll take it to go."

"OK…this munchkin needs a bath anyway," I smiled at Arabella. "Her butt still might be a little stinky from the explosion in the car." She sniffled against her dad's chest, pacifier in her mouth.

"OK."

I paid our bill and the woman's before Jackson had a chance to step in, and we left.

"Why'd you do that?" he asked, when Arabella was strapped in her car seat and we were on our way.

"Just thought she might benefit from an act of kindness."

He was too quiet the rest of the night; we both were. We weren't angry at each other, just unsure of how to process the evening while Bellie was awake. So we didn't.

We ate dinner with her and gave her a bath together. Thankfully she cooperated tonight, because she needed it and I didn't think either of us was in the mood for a fight.

"Let me do bedtime alone, babe?" he asked, lifting her out of the tub.

"When we're off together we always…"

"I know just…please…."

I shrugged, but understood. Some days our sweet diva was the only person who could make us feel better, and right now she was the only baby we had. "Yeah, sure…I'll just…I'll be up…."

"Thanks." He squeezed my hand, and I went to get ready for him.

"Hi!" I smiled when he crawled into bed, smirking at me. It probably felt strange, to say the least, to walk in on your wife reading the Bible in the sexiest maternity lingerie she owned, because you bought it for her. "How was bedtime?"

He raised an eyebrow. I put the Bible on the bedside table. Without a word, he started kissing me. "Wait…I know…we will but…can we just…"

He shook his head and continued kissing me. Picking his favorite outfit was probably a bad idea. I pulled away. "I'm not going anywhere honey. Just…what did you do, did you read?" he nodded. "Did you talk to her?" No answer. He grabbed my wrists and pinned them over my head. "Babe…stop…" He increased his pressure, kissing down my body. "Jackson…Stop!"

I tried to free my wrists, but felt resistance. He wasn't meeting my eyes. "YOU'RE HURTING ME!"

The volume of my voice stopped him before the my words sunk in. "Sorry," he whispered 30 seconds later, next to me.

"No means no. All the time."

"I know. I'm sorry. I love you," he said, falling down next to me.

I cleared my throat, staring at the ceiling, "I love you too."

"You look gorgeous."

I smiled and turned to him, as fast as baby girl would allow. "I know, you like this one. You ready to go again? Slowly?"

"Yeah…" He kissed me and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I looked into his eyes.

"Babe, what are you feeling? Talk to me."

"Just…I love you…."

"Me too. I'm sorry I didn't…but was just focused on Bellie and I didn't know…"

"Shhh…I know sweetheart. You did everything right. No more talking."

"Jackson, we didn't even talk…"

"There's nothing to talk about…really."

"But then bedtime with Bellie you…"

"April, please…"

I sighed, allowing him to climb on top of me again. He held my hands instead grabbing my wrists, but then quickly but carefully started undressing me. "Mmmm…" He kissed down neck and I tried to let go…I had to let go. He needed this, we needed this. And then after he might talk. It happened sometimes, when we were done. He'd wrap his arms around me and answer a question or two. I disguised them as surface questions. 'Why do you hate leftovers?' 'What's your favorite cartoon?' or, 'Where do you want to take the baby after church Sunday?'

But Jackson always let me in enough. He and Catherine ate leftovers often in the immediate aftermath of his father's abandonment. The Flinstones, because for some reason he remembered his dad used to…nevermind. For frozen yogurt, because he loved that Arabella said 'yoyo' the whole time in different inflections and offered them her spoon as it dripped off her chin.

He got to my belly button and I couldn't hold it in anymore. "You talked to her?"

He sighed and crawled next to me, resigned to the fact that talking would come first tonight. "Yes, but…she doesn't understand so it doesn't…"

"It matters, Jackson."

"I told her I loved you. That you were the best mommy because the first thing you tried to do was distract her from it with a milkshake. That's all a kid should worry about. She's a baby."

"She didn't see…she doesn't know…"

"She saw me get up, she heard me yell. She was scared."

"You listened to me. The first thing you did was take her and calm her down…"

"She shouldn't have seen anything."

"I should've said something."

"No you shouldn't have…That's what you do every time, OK?"

"Every time?" I felt my eyes widen.

"Yeah, no matter who it is, who they're talking to, what color their skin is…you just distract the kids or get them out of there."

"You're acting like this was a fire drill."

"It was," he said, matter of fact.

"Jackson…"

"No, you wanted me to talk about it. So listen. When they're babies you do what you did, distract them…when they get a little older you let them listen to a little bit of what I'm saying and then you take them out of the situation."

"I…I don't get it. Why am I just the child wrangler in every scenario?" I pulled away from him a little bit. "Why can't I fight the fire with you?" He hated when I dragged on the metaphors, but I didn't care.

"You can. If I tag you in. But it's just important that the hear what they can handle. They might encounter it one day."

He'd never tag me in. "You'll never tag me in!" I huffed. "I'm tough too, you know. I can tell off an ignorant…I want to stand up for my family."

"And you might have to, when I'm not there."

"She's my baby!"

"Exactly. So you will." My baby girl had my hazel eyes and thick hair. Jackson said she had my smile and laugh, too. I didn't think my laugh was that shrill but he was adamant that every once and awhile our laugh was exactly the same. Our skin tone? Different. But neither did Arabella's and Jackson's match.

In my head, I cursed the woman for bringing this conversation into my bed tonight. Of course I wanted to teach my kids about race and diversity and tolerance and love. Those things were important but…I didn't want think about the struggle, not right that second.

"What do I say when…"

"They ask you questions?" I nodded.

"That you love them and they can always tag either of us in if they need us to stick up for them, right? And answer it if you can, of course."

"Well, of course."

"Good. Can we stop talking now?"

"Yeah…but babe?"

"What?"

"Tag me in sometimes."

"I will…I do." He kissed me and we started again, this time uninterrupted. But something was still wrong. He was the talker so that wasn't new but…there was a desperation in his voice. He wasn't smiling when he said 'I love you,' his eyes were sad. It was almost as if he was trying to convince me it was true. Nothing hurt, but he was rougher, worked faster, as if that proved the intensity of his feelings.

"Hey, you know I know all that, right? I know you love me so much and you'll never leave me? That I'm the best mom? You were breaking the rules with that one." I smiled and nudged his shoulder when we were done. In our bedroom we weren't mommy and daddy, ever. Jackson took that rule to an extreme. He just nodded. "I feel the same, you know that, right? I love you and you are the best dad."

"Yeah." He whispered. I wish I knew what he needed, nothing had worked yet.

"I think we need to break some more rules tonight," I suggested.

"It's late…"

"So what? You might not wake her up. Sometimes you just need some Bellie love, trust me!" I kissed his cheek.

"Ok," he yawned, getting out of bed. He came back with our sweet baby girl in his arms. She yawned too, waking up before he put her down, rubbing her eyes.

"Mama hi!" she squealed when she saw me.

"Hi sweetie. Sorry we woke you up. Daddy needs snuggles, Ok?"

"Mama too." He lay her in the middle of the bed, closer to him so I had more space. "And baby too, can you snuggle the baby?"

"Beebee no!" Bellie turned away from me and buried her head in Jackson's chest, shaking it.

"Still no? OK, we'll keep working on it." He laughed for the first time all night.

"She is working on it daddy, she gave the baby a sip of the milkshake before," I said.

"Oh yeah? Good Job diva…" But she'd already fallen back to sleep. He kissed her forehead and fell asleep soon after, finally finding some peace in a most unusual place for him; the other side of the bed from me, our baby girl in his arms.