Rejoice
Sunday pre-dawn
Michonne delivers a hard kick to her husband's shin under the sheet covering the lower half of their bodies. If I'm not sleeping neither is he…we're in this together.
Rick bolts up to a sitting position, "Contraction or craving?"
"Neither. Your children are kicking the shit out of me," she explains.
"'Chonne, it is 4:00 am," he responds after glancing at the silver vintage style alarm clock on his nightstand. He falls back against the rumpled sheets resting his head on the pillow.
She kicks him twice, "Get up."
He reaches with his left arm to pull the top drawer open to retrieve the worn purple journal. He pushes up and back against the headboard, "C'mere," he pats his left shoulder with his right hand.
She huffs but snuggles into him before taking the journal. She opens to the first available blank page marked by the pen nestled inside.
Way too early in the morning you three, how are you not exhausted from yesterday?
She yawns and Rick rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands before responding in a sleep-laced voice, "Tell your Mama you slept through the last half of the shower," rubbing the side of her belly.
Michonne looks back and up at him, "How do you know that?"
He yawns and scratches the side of his face, "They are early risers even when you are out cold. We call it Daddy time. I share about my day and remind them to be good. Late afternoon they take a nap with you and we are all awake for family dinner," he smiles with heart eyes.
Michonne's lips tremble and fat tears fill her eyes, "Let's tell them what they missed," picking up the pen.
Yesterday we celebrated your arrival. I know you remember all the food. We have a new favorite drink thanks to Justice…cucumber, watermelon lemonade. Half of your play room is filled with diapers which probably will only last a couple months since we have three little butts to keep dry but at least we have a head start. You have enough outfits to start a boutique. Since I'm home until you arrive we can fill part of our day with laundry.
Rick kisses her temple, "Tell them about Uncle Andre and the folk's gifts," he directs glancing down at the foot of their bed where the presents rest side by side.
First, the Grand's love you more than anyone can explain therefore nothing is ever too much. It is why you have a score board. Anyway, you each have a Badger round bassinet with full handmade African mud cloth canopy and skirt to match your Lion King nursery. You probably won't sleep in them for longer than six months but we pick our battles. Not to be outdone Uncle Andre arrived with the Peg Perego triple stroller with infant car seats. We are going to visit Grandma and Grandpa Anthony so try and go to sleep. We cannot wait to see your beautiful little faces.
Sunday morning
Sasha uses her compact mirror to inspect her matte red lips from the passenger seat. They arrived twenty minutes before the photographer for their engagement photo session. "I hope he isn't late. This area is off the beaten path," she chuckles looking at the lush green trees and bushes.
"Which makes the fact that we met at all even more bizarre," he stands from his crouched position. He looks over all the glistening chrome of the restored vintage black truck and glossy rubber of the white wall tires.
"All I know is he better not be late…I want every engagement picture to capture the sunrise."
"Unless he is a total fool he will be on time. You threatened him directly or indirectly on every phone call and in every e-mail," he winks and smiles.
"Are you calling me a bridezilla, Dixon?"
"Hell no…do I look crazy?"
"Not even close. You look like trouble," she flirts. His black jeans, black boots and plain black sleeveless t-shirt scream bad boy. I hope I can behave once he adds the leather jacket.
Daryl's eyes take her in pieces: the white button down shirt tucked into the tight black pencil skirt all held together by the wide, red belt and black patent leather stilettos. He moves toward her placing kisses along the column of her neck.
"Baby," she moans. "Don't start, I cannot look freshly fucked."
"I'll behave but we are going to have to break in the new red leather seats at some point," he responds after using his teeth to tug the skin behind her ear.
Sunday afternoon
Rick's right arm embraces Michonne around her shoulders. "Mr. and Mrs. Anthony, I am a man of my word. She is gloriously pregnant and more beautiful every day so we had to come and see you."
"Let me translate…I have not seen my feet in so long I do not remember what they look like but I know my toes feel like snausages. I am not sure how much longer my butt can squeeze into normal size chairs and have to look at old photos to remember my cheekbones," she laughs.
"Like I said…beautiful," he smiles.
"I am trying to remember everything you taught me so I can pass it on. I have the picture from that cruise you took on the wall in their room. Uncle Andre gave me so many to choose from. Dad, I used one of you playing first base in college. Mom, I picked one from your debutante ball," she starts to cry. "You have on the cape…the same cape I wore at our wedding," she wipes the tears with the back of her hand.
He squeezes her shoulder, "Sir, I played first base in high school so I promise to make sure to keep the family tradition going…girls or boys. Although, I am confident it's girls."
"Do not listen to him about the gender thing. We are having boys…stubborn like their father. You know how I know…because they refuse to cooperate. Neither the doctor nor the technician can get a full shot during the ultrasound," she explains with a pout.
Rick rolls his eyes, "They are not stubborn…they want to surprise us. It's sweet and how I know they are girls."
"We probably will not be able to return until after they are born so I wanted to leave a picture to hold you over," she explains. Rick approaches the marker and leans the framed photo from their last appointment against the marble.
Sunday night
"Roxanne, we need to start shopping for prom soon. First, you need to scope out the competition and make sure you have the inside track with the nomination committee. Second, you need to gather details on the dresses the other girls are most likely to wear. Rae-Ann and I found success in Macon but we may have to go as far as Sequoia."
"I know mom. I will be the third generation prom queen," she rolls her eyes never looking up from her phone.
"Please tell me you had the good sense to secure a date," she sighs in exasperation.
"Of course…star quarterback."
"I guess…whatever happened with young Mr. Andrews?"
"Who?" she finally looks up from her phone.
"Carl Andrews. I saw him a couple weeks ago over to Olivia and Tara's auto shop. Have you seen his car? I guess Carol finally gave him access to his trust fund."
Roxanne's brows rise toward her bangs, "Trust fund?" Carl is rich?
"You know your daddy does not like me talking about his work managing financial services at the bank. But if I had to guess the life insurance from two parents and death benefits from the police pension; that young man will be able to take great care of his future wife and family."
"What do you suggest?" Her mother has her undivided attention.
"Unfortunately you did not listen to your momma and came on much too strong. You young girls today never listen. You need patience…be the last girl standing. His current phase will pass and you have to prepare to step into the empty space."
"Are you sure because I don't want to end up like big sis," she replies curtly.
"Your sister is a lost cause…I did the best I could," the matriarch shakes her head.
"I'm listening," she confirms.
Monday morning
Carl leans on his left forearm braced against the wall above Justice's head. His right hand grips her hip pulling the lower half of her body closer to him, "I missed you," he whispers against her lips before applying a lingering peck.
She kisses him back before responding, "I know. I didn't…I mean, who knew one week could cause withdrawal symptoms." A deep, authoritative voice clears his throat. Justice peeks around Carl's shoulder. "Good Morning, Mr. Hamilton," she blushes.
"Glad to see you made it back."
She untangles from Carl,"We brought you some souvenirs," holding up a plastic bag overflowing with pennants, posters, stickers and buttons.
Carl joins the conversation, "Morning Sir, we thought you could use some of the college merchandise we collected for the recruitment office or center you wanted to start."
He smiles, "Absolutely. I like the way you pay it forward. I will see you at our next coaching session." They nod and smile before walking down the hall hand in hand. I think they just might go all the way.