I take my place at one end of the kitchen island and wait.
Claire walks through the doorway seconds later and stops, a look of confusion on her face as she takes in the sight before her.
“Um, why are there red Solo cups all over the counter?” she asks.
“I thought we could take a trip down memory lane and play a little beer pong,” I tell her with a grin.
She walks further into the room.
“Nice sentiment and all but I don’t I want our child to be born a pot head and a drunk.”
I laugh and pick up the empty milk jug for her to see.
“Technically, this is milk pong.”
She laughs when she gets to the other end of the island and glances into the cup closest to her.
“Ahhh gotcha. If I remember correctly, I kicked your ass the last time we played,” she says with a smile.
“Oh I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure all of the ass kicking was done by me. You sucked at beer pong.”
“Lies! Not only were Liz and I the lap dance champions in our dorm, we were also beer pong champions,” she told me with a satisfied smirk.
“Wait, what?”
She laughs again and shakes her head at me. “I know I told you this story.”
“No, I’m pretty sure I would remember every part of a story that involved you and lap dancing,” I argue.
“Liz and I used to do lap dances on each other for free beers at the college bars. I was a little bendier then so I was usually the one on top,” she says nonchalantly.
Claire, bendy, girl lap dances…my penis exploded. That JUST happened.
“Promise me I will get to see this someday very soon,” I tell her.
“Yeah, okay. Because pregnant chick lap dances are so hot.” She chuckles.
“I don’t think you understand how serious I am right now, Claire. This is right up there with meeting God and winning the lottery.”
Seeing her happy and smiling confirms my decision to do this right now, this exact way. If only I could get the image of Claire grinding on another woman out of my head.
Damn you, penis, you aren’t in charge tonight! Take a break, go back to sleep, nothing to see here.
“As much as it pains me to say this, the lap dance can wait, but you’re going to have to prove to me right now that you’ve still got it in beer pong. The ping pong balls are right in front of you. Put your ball where your mouth is.”
She raises her eyebrow at me.
“Hmmm, that didn’t come out right. But I kind of like it,” I tell her with a shrug.
She picks up one of the balls and lines up her shot. It bounces off the rim of the first cup and lands in one behind it.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she taunts as I remove the ball from the cup and drink the milk.
I set the empty cup to the side, pick up my own ball and take aim while trying to keep my hand from shaking. I know I need to make as many shots as I can for this to work out the way I want it to. I toss the ball and it sinks right in the cup closest to her. I let out a huge sigh as she removes the ball and picked up the cup.
“Lucky shot,” she tells me before downing the milk.
“I love you more than I ever thought was possible,” I tell her softly as she sets the cup down. She cocks her head to the side and smiles at me.
I pick up another ball and quickly throw it before she could say anything back to me. It sinks into another cup right in front of her. As she picks up the cup to drink it, I speak again.
“I love you because you make me laugh and you make me want to be a better man.”
I already have another ball in my hand and throw it into the air before she even finishes the last cup of milk. She stares at me wide-eyed as the ball plops into the next cup in line and she hesitates before picking it up. I wait until the cup is by her mouth before I continue.
“I love you because every day you amaze me.”
A lone tear escapes from her eye as I throw another ball right into a cup. I’ve never played this well in my life. I guess it's only fitting since this is the only game where I'm playing for my life.
She picks that cup up and sniffles before taking a drink.
“I love you because you are the best mother in the entire world.”
One more to go. And this was the one that counts. I aim and watch the ball sail in an arc toward the last cup on her side of the counter. I hold my breath until it drops right where it needs to go. I walk around the counter until I'm next to her and wait for her to finish the last cup of milk.
A surprised gasp sounds from her when she tips the cup back and something bumps against her lip. As she pulls the cup away from her mouth and looks into the bottom of it, I get down on one knee.
With shaking hands, she reaches her fingers into the cup and pulls out the diamond ring I have been carrying in my pocket for months. She turns to look at me and gasps again when she sees where I am.
“The first time we did this, every time one of us sunk a shot we would tell each other a fact about ourselves. I remember you told me your favorite color was pink and that you watched the movie ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun’ once a year because it made you nostalgic for the time when Sarah Jessica Parker didn’t look like a troll.”
Claire laughs through the tears that are now falling freely.
“This time, I needed you to know every fact about why I love you. I wanted to marry you the first time I saw you again. I wanted to get down on my knees and beg you to never leave me. And I should have done it. I should never have waited this long. There is no one else in this world I could imagine spending my life with. I want to teach inappropriate things to our children with you forever. Claire Donna Morgan, will you please, please marry me and love me for the rest of your life?”
She leans over and throws her arms around me, holding me tight as she sobs out the one word I have waited forever to hear from her.
“Yes!”
I pull out of her arms long enough to take the ring from her hand and slip it on her finger. Our happy moment is interrupted seconds later by Gavin running into the kitchen.
“Mom, guess what? I swallowed a penny!” he announces.
Claire and I pull away from each other and turn to see all of our friends and Claire’s father standing in the doorway wearing the shirts Drew had picked out that say, “I played beer pong and all I got was this lousy t-shirt, knocked up, and a fiancé”.
“Sorry, Carter, I couldn’t resist the shirts. And really, they’re still appropriate considering how you proposed,” Liz says with a smile.
“Wait, I’m sorry. But did Gavin just say he swallowed a penny?” Claire asks, wiping the tears off of her cheeks.
“Oh, yeah. Well, we think he swallowed a penny. We’re not quite sure,” Drew explains. “He wanted some candy so Liz dumped out her purse on the floor because she knew she had a bunch of Tic Tacs at the bottom. He started scooping things up and shoving them in his mouth before we saw what he was doing. According to him, he swallowed a penny. But kids are liars.”
Gavin stomps his foot. “YOU’RE A LIAR YOU BIG FAT TURKEY!”
“I am not fat. I’m muscular. Get your facts straight,” Drew argues.
“Okay, can someone please tell me if my kid really swallowed a penny?” Claire asks loudly, putting a halt to the arguing.
“Well, I Googled ‘kids swallowing pennies’ and you’d be surprised how many hits I got,” Liz says. “Anyway, as long as the penny was made before 1982, he’ll be fine.”
Claire and I stare at her for a few minutes before Claire explodes.
“What the fuck?!”
“Awwwwww, Mom,” Gavin scolds as he pointed at her.
“I’m sorry, what the f-u-c-k does t-h-a-t mean and w-h-a-t do we do n-o-w?”
She has officially turned into one of the Stepford mothers, spelling words she doesn’t even need to spell because she is so freaked out. She is not going to be happy about this.
“It’s fine, Claire. I
used my metal detector on him and the penny wasn’t there,” George stated.
“You’re kidding me, right? You know there’s this fancy thing called a hospital you can go to, don’t you?” she asks.
“I walked uphill both ways in a snow storm with no shoes just to get to school when I was his age, and I ate metal shavings for fun. A little copper isn’t going to hurt him,” George argues.
“Unless the penny was made after 1982 because then it’s made with enough zinc to melt his esophagus,” Drew said matter-of-factly. “I’m pretty sure that would have happened by now though, so he’s probably good.”
Claire bends down next to Gavin and pulls him into her arms.
“Sweetie, how do you feel? Is your tummy okay?” she asks him.
“My tummy is good. Papa said I need to drop a deuce and check it for money. I can poop money!” he says excitedly.
“I wish I could poop money,” Drew complains.
I bend down next to Claire and Gavin, gathering both of them in my arms.
“Just so you know, we’re totally eloping,” I tell her.
“Oh thank God,” she replied.
22. Hump, Hump, Hump
“So you really like it?” Carter asks for the hundredth time.
We are finally in bed relaxing after the long day, and I can’t stop staring at my ring.
“I think I like it more than you.”
Carter laughs. “Very funny.”
“Oh, I’m totally serious. I’ve been thinking all this time that you just didn’t want to marry me and here you were carrying a ring around in your pocket. I kind of want to whittle my toothbrush into a shiv and stick it in your eye,” I tell him seriously.
He rolled over onto his side and rested his hand on my stomach.
“I’m sorry. I should have done it the day I bought the ring. I just wanted it to be perfect and then we found out you were pregnant and I know how your mind works. You would have never believed I was doing it for the right reasons if I did it right when we found out,” he says as he gently rubs his palm in a circle on my protruding belly.
“I know, you’re right. My mother said the same thing,” I tell him, placing my hand on top of his and pushing it down towards the bottom of my stomach where I usually feel the teeny tiny kicking of little feet. To me it feels like bubbles popping, and I'm not sure if he would be able to feel it yet but it doesn’t hurt to try.
“Rachel actually said something that made sense?” he asks in surprise.
“Yeah, it shocked me too,” I say, turning my head on the pillow so I can see his face. “I should have just talked to you. Obviously I suck at the whole communication thing. I’m much better at suffering in silence.”
Carter scoots closer and moves his hand out from under mine, sliding it up the front of my body until it rests on my cheek.
“I think we both have a long ways to go in the communication department. We’ll get there though,” he assures me.
“Did I tell you that when all this doubt crept into my mind I told Liz about it and she suggested that I give you a prostate massage?”
“Oh my God, stop. Don’t say any more. Jim actually told me about the night she did that to him and it was horrifying. Please don’t say any more,” he warns.
“I don’t know, you might like it,” I tease.
“Hey, I don’t even let anybody wag their finger in my FACE,” Carter says in a Brooklyn accent.
“Seriously? A Sopranos quote now?”
“Um, yes. There is a Sopranos quote for every occasion. Hence, the reason for its awesomeness. Respect The Sopranos,” Carter tells me seriously.
I roll over onto my side toward him and slide my leg up and over Carter’s hip, running my fingers through his hair.
“I think we should celebrate this momentous occasion by me sticking my penis in you,” he says with a smile.
“You’re lucky you gave me jewelry today or I might have punched you for that.”
Carter pulls me closer and brings his lips to mine. Just like always, his kisses make me forget about everything. The softness of his lips and the smooth glide of his tongue against mine remind me of just how long it has been since we've had sex. With our crazy schedules and my attitude problem, it's been a while and I am more than starved for him. His arms wrap around me and his hands slide down to my ass, cupping it and pulling me in against his hardness. I shift my hips against him and let out a groan.
“Wait, hold on. Shit,” he mutters, breaking off the kiss.
I pull my head back and shoot him a questioning look.’
“What? What’s wrong?”
Is his penis broken? Oh dear God please don’t let it be broken. I NEED IT TO LIVE.
“I have to pee. Hold that thought,” he says, pulling out of my arms and scrambling off of the bed.
I roll over onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. A few minutes later I still hadn’t heard the toilet flush.
“Hey, are you okay in there?” I yell.
“SHHHHHHH! NO TALKING!” he yells back.
What the fuck?
“What do you mean no talking? What the hell is going on?”
I hear a few expletives coming from the bathroom, and I raise myself up on my elbows so I can look at the closed bathroom door.
“I can’t pee!” he finally yells back.
“What do you mean you can’t pee?”
Holy shit, it really IS broken. I knew I should have used it more these past few months. Son of a bitch! It broke from non-use.
“Seriously, you need to stop talking. You’re making it worse.”
“What the hell are you talking about? How am I making it worse?” I argue.
The door to the bathroom finally opens and he stands there with his hands on his hips and a tent in the front of his boxers.
“Because, your voice turns me on and I can’t get rid of my fucking boner! I would never say this to you under normal circumstances but this is an emergency. So shut the hell up for a minute so I can pee!”
With that he goes back in the bathroom and slams the door closed behind him.
Well, at least it still works.
~
“Oh it was awesome once we got past Carter’s freak out,” I tell Liz the next day on the phone. “He was convinced the baby could see his penis and would either get jealous or have nightmares for the rest of its life about a penis monster trying to eat its face. Then he wanted to try and find a condom because he though his sperm might drown the baby. I actually had to bring my laptop into bed and show him that his penis would need to be two feet long for it to get anywhere near the baby.”
Carter is working the day shift today and I'm spending the late afternoon taking down wallpaper in the room that will eventually be the nursery. I’d been at it for a few hours and was exhausted. I had taken a break to call Liz and report to her about how the rest of our evening went. Since she had constantly berated me the last few months about how often we WEREN’T having sex, I felt she deserved an update. After a few minutes we end the call and I decide to take a trip up to the local corner store to get one of my current pregnancy cravings: a black cherry slush. So far I’ve had one every single day since the day I found out. They are delicious and refreshing and the only place that sells the black cherry ones is the place right around the corner from our house.
I pack Gavin in the car and head down the street. Once inside the store, I make a beeline for the slush machine in the back, dragging Gavin along with me. I get to the machine and stopped in my tracks, staring at the sign that's taped to the front.
“Out of order? What do you mean, out of order?” I say out loud.
“It means it don’t work,” Gavin says.
“I know that’s what it means. But it’s a slush machine. It turns water into ice and you add cherry syrup to it. How hard can it be for a machine to do that?”
I see that the machine is still plugged in so I let go of Gavin’s hand, grab onto it, and start jiggling it back and forth.
The power light doesn’t come on so I start pressing all of the buttons over and over. When that doesn’t work, I start smacking the side of the machine with the palm of my hand.
“Mom, you’re gonna break it,” Gavin warns.
“Stupid piece of shit machine. All you have to do is make ice you worthless pile of horse shit!” I say to it, completely ignoring Gavin.
Oh my God I need this slush. I need it like I need air to breathe. Why the fuck won’t it just work!
At this point I'm pretty sure my brain has left my body. I continue to physically assault the machine, hitting it with my fists and cursing at it like it's a person who can fight back.
“Nothing to say for yourself, asshole? You can’t even TRY to work? You lazy piece of shit. Get off your ass and make me a slush!”
People are starting to stare. I can feel their eyes on me as I rape the slush machine with my hands. I pull cords, I stick my finger in holes, and I remove the entire front cover, exposing all of the inner workings.
“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to step away from the slush machine,” a man in a corner store uniform tells me.
“Why the hell isn’t your machine working? You need to fix the machine,” I tell him, standing there with the cover of it in my hands like it's a shield.
“I’m sorry but there’s a part that isn’t working. We had to order a new machine and it won’t be in until next week,” he explains, prying the cover out of my hand and setting it aside.
“Next week? NEXT WEEK? What are people supposed to do for slushes if they have to wait a week?” I ask.
“God doesn’t want you to have a slush,” Gavin tells me.
I look down at him questioningly.
“God is king of the world and he says you don’t need a slush. Can I get some ice cream?” he asks.
“God doesn’t know. HE DOESN”T KNOW,” I complain.
I’m pretty sure I’m having an out-of-body experience. I can see myself acting like a complete douchebag, but there is nothing I can do about it. I’m like a junkie that needs a fix. My hands are shaking, my head hurts, and I’m about two seconds away from selling my kid and my shoes for another hit of black cherry slush.