My Today

by HJ Bellus

  I knew in that instant, that the meatball growing in my womb was a girl, and her name was Rose. My Rose, who would always be full of life, thirsty for knowledge and surrounded with endless love would have a happy home. I would be her caregiver. No, I would be her momma. The butterfly in the garden would be my secret memory for the rest of my life. Tripp would have to wait and play the game of the expecting parent.

  I needed to express my feelings in words to show my babies just how dearly I loved them. My hands found my abdomen and started to gently rub in small smoothing circles. I didn’t want our baby to ever think or feel like they were a mistake. It was time to introduce myself to the little meatball growing inside me.

  Letter #1

  To My Little Meatball-

  Well, today I found out you are in my tummy. I’m scared to death, if I am being honest with you, and I will always be honest with you. When you are a teenager, you probably won’t appreciate it much. Your daddy, who is a gentle gorgeous Beast, is thrilled. He has kind and caring hands that will always protect us from the evils of the world. And he will be the kind of dad who will always be there for you, no matter the circumstance. Even if you are wrong and fail miserably, I promise to you that your dad will be standing in your corner, because he is just that kind of guy. I want you to remember that the best gift I will ever give you is your dad. Cherish him with all you have. Oh, and you will learn to put up with me.

  Here’s the deal, you keep growing & I will keep eating. Deal? Deal.

  Love,

  Your Very Nervous Mom

  I closed my neon hot pink notebook as Tripp entered the garden.

  “Why are you laying in the garden?”

  “Just makin’ memories, baby,” I smiled up at him.

  Tripp pulled up a piece of garden and laid down next to me. With his arms propped up behind his head, he silently stared up into the bright, blue sky. I twisted my head to watch him stare up into the heavens. His face told the story of his happiness and love for life. Tripp was my anchor and savior all wrapped up in a heaping, muscular body. My body knew that simple fact, so it instinctively curled up into his side.

  “What are you thinking, Beast?” I asked as I raised myself up to shower kisses along his very prominent jaw line.

  “Nothing,” he mumbled.

  “Liar.”

  Tripp lifted his head to look down at me and said, “I’m thinking I’m the luckiest motherfucker alive.”

  That’s one thing we have in common, we don’t sugar coat shit. Rehab couldn’t even fix our mouths.

  “What do you want…a boy or a girl?”

  “Of course, I want a boy. I need a little stud to train up,” Tripp replied as he grabbed my hips and hoisted me on top of him.

  “What do you want, Princess?”

  “Duh, a Princess to train up to kick ass.” Lowering my head, I tenderly kissed Tripp’s lips and whispered, “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  It was time to shower my husband in praise for everything he had given me. Tripp will never know how much he had truly anchored me, and simply saved me, from my personal hell I was burning in.

  I bent down and placed a very simple, yet sweet, kiss on his lips.

  “Being my anchor.”

  Kiss.

  “Being my husband.”

  Kiss.

  “Feeding me.”

  Kiss.

  “Turning me into a Princess.”

  Kiss.

  “Knocking me up.”

  Kiss

  “For my garden,” I said as I placed a deep, long kiss on Tripp’s lips, savoring his taste.

  “And for never giving up on our love,” I murmured without leaving his lip.

  “You’re welcome,” Tripp mumbled into my mouth.

  Then we celebrated the conception of our lil’ Meatball in the middle of our over-grown, lush garden.

  Chapter 18

  Corn Cob…

  Lacey

  We had waited three weeks for our first doctor’s appointment since finding out about Meatball. Tripp had been relentlessly reading and studying up on pregnancy and all the side effects. He had freakin’ read that What to Expect When Expecting book probably five times and ran down the list of milestones each night before we went to bed. The other night I finally slung a shoe at him to make him quit. The man was driving me fucking nuts.

  Earlier that morning Tripp was in a foul mood, reminding me of his temperament when he originally arrived on the farm. Come to find out, his mood had to do with his dad. During his rehab, his parents disowned him forever, slicing an enormous gaping wound across Tripp’s vulnerable heart.

  On the way to the doctor’s appointment, I texted Milly nasty pics off of Tripp’s phone. I swear, all our boys do is text nasty jokes and pictures to each other all day. I stumbled across a text to his mother. Just like an eager little boy with the goal of pleasing his parents, he had shared the good news with her. There was no response from her. His father responded.

  Dad: Congrats on bringing another fuck up into this world. Leave us alone.

  Tripp didn’t respond to the text, and it took every fiber of self-control in me not to lay into the heartless bastard. In that moment, I wanted to fly to Florida and flog the ever loving shit out of the heartless motherfucker. Why was he so horrible to my Beast?

  Tripp would have gave anything to just feel an ounce of his father’s love. You would think losing one child in a horrific accident would open your eyes to loving the only son you had left. Instead, he chose to push Tripp away and belittle the fuck out of him.

  After reading the horrendous text, I looked up at Tripp. He had his jaw clenched and his sunglasses were hiding the pain in his eyes, as he quietly drove us to the doctor’s.

  I gently placed my hand on his leg and said, “I love you now and forever, Tripp.”

  Tripp smiled and visibly relaxed with my words.

  “I don’t care what your father says. You are going to be an excellent poppa, and I’m going to be a fucking hot momma. We are gonna screw up together and enjoy every single freakin’ ass minute of it. Just promise me that you will never contact him again. Please? Baby, it’s not fair to you,” I finished as tears started to roll down my cheeks at the thoughts of the cruel words spoken to him.

  I never wanted to see Tripp hurt. He didn’t deserve the ugly pain that his father inflicted upon him.

  “I promise, Princess.”

  “Good! Now quit being a dick and cheer the fuck up. I’m about to get a corn cob stuck up my hoo-haw to see just how knocked up I really am.”

  “Oh my god, Lace. You’ll listen to Milly and her stupid-ass descriptions, but you never listen to the real facts I tell you.”

  “I listen to yours, but Milly’s are so much better,” I said as I leaned over to place a kiss on his cheek.

  My tongue took an extra lick of his stubbly cheek. My taste buds would never get enough of Tripp’s scrumptious flavor.

  We spent an hour and a half in the doctor’s office getting grilled with questions, prodded and poked with needles and handed piss sticks. And oh yeah, I basically had a corn cob shoved up my vayjayjay and it was determined that my Meatball would be arriving approximately on March 27th. I guess typical appointments do not last for hours, but with my history extra precautions were taken.

  The sound of Tripp rubbing his stubble and tapping his pencil while drafting up our farm’s fields and new produce stands, had been my favorite sound in the world up until that moment. The sounds of Tripp had been the sounds I thought of when I woke up and the sounds that put me to sleep every night. It was the sound of my love for him. Now we both had a sound that bonded us together forever. A sound that was us put together, multiplied by infinity, forever melding the two of our lives together. All the good in us, and all the stubborn in us, put together to make one unique, beautiful sound. The sound of our Meatball’s heart singing to us poured out into the tiny room as Tripp and I simply sat still. It was just a sound, but one that ch
anged everything.

  Tripp told the doctor everything about my past and explained to him that we were scared shitless about losing the baby. Dr. Wyman spent thirty minutes assuring us that my womb looked healthy, and basically, the perfect place to grow a kid. Dr. Wyman was down to earth, non-judgmental and very comforting to us first timer parents. I’m sure he could tell that we were a bundle of worries and nerves. We made our appointment for next month and left there extremely happy parents of a healthy little Meatball.

  Letter #2 to Meatball

  Hello There Lil’ Meatball!

  It’s me again! I have decided to write you a letter each month. Sorry, the first one was so blah. Now that the sticker shock of being knocked-up has worn off, I can now explain how I truly feel.

  #1 You make me puke every morning at 7:06 A.M. Your dad has tried to feed me crackers to stop the puking-didn’t work. He also tired Sprite, taffy and some voodoo oil shit- didn’t work. I just vomit my inner stomach out every day and yell at your dad, “This damn kid better be cute!”

  By the way, I’m your mom, Lacey. Your dad is Tripp. He is the gorgeous Beast I mentioned in my last letter. You will love him.

  We went to the first dr. appointment last week. It was simply amazing and kind of made up for all the puking you’ve been making me do lately. We are still arguing over finding out what you are. I know that you’re my little Rose, but daddy doesn’t know and is dying to find out. Your Aunt Milly told us we have a while to argue.

  Please just let me enjoy pizza for dinner tonight. We are going to show the family your very first pictures. I know they will all be excited to see you even though you look just like a little bean! The cutest little black and white bean I have ever seen though. Your daddy looks irresistible today and wants to feed me some ice cream, so I better run. Don’t make me toss it, kid!

  Love,

  Your Very Pukey Mom

  Chapter 19

  My Castle

  Lacey

  I guess you could call it our reception, kind of, in complete opposite style and very overdue fashion. That’s what you get with Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpatrick. Nothing is ever normal. We were all out at the local watering hole celebrating and I declared it our reception. Everyone was super sensitive to Tripp’s and my sobriety. Hell, I just wanted to go dancing with my husband, and with Tripp’s sexy ass swinging me around the dance floor, alcohol had no chance getting any of my attention.

  “Hey pretty girl. Wanna dance with your hubs?” Tripp asked as he forced my body back up against his chest.

  Without saying a word, I whirled around, embraced my Beast and started to dance with him.

  A romantic country song filled the smoky bar. Tripp swayed to the music, bringing me along for the ride, which basically made my body float with his. Not many know this, but Tripp had the sexiest, smoothest singing voice. He began singing “Anywhere With You” by Jake Owen to me. My eyes instantly shut and I drank in all of his promising words to be with me forever, no matter the circumstance and no matter the place, he would always be with me. By the end of the song, I was wasted on Tripp and his profound devotion to me.

  The next song started and he continued to twirl me around on the dance. Not an inch of air was able to penetrate between our entwined bodies while we danced.

  “Princess.”

  “Beast,” I mumbled into his chest.

  “We’re not living in the cabin forever,” Tripp said into my ear.

  My head instantly flew up from Tripp’s safe place and my eyes were full of questions. My Tripp was a thinker, and was obviously easing his ass into some hot water with a statement like that.

  “But it’s my home.”

  “Baby, you deserve a castle.”

  “I just want the prince. That is all I signed up for.”

  “I bought a farm and I’m building you a castle,” Tripp said.

  No conversation. No discussion. What an overbearing, aggressive asswipe. The douche canoe was lucky that I was one horny bitch tonight and wouldn’t put up a fight on this topic. I guess a girl could handle living in a castle with her prince, forever.

  “Whatevs. Just get it done, son!”

  The shocked look on Tripp’s face was damn right comical. He was expecting a down right, drag out fight, and that’s why he told me in a public place. Oh, he was so lucky that I was such a revved up horn dog tonight.

  Then it hit me. Where?

  “Woah Cowboy! Where? You can’t take me from Milly. I won’t go. Never will I leave…”

  Tripp placed his finger over my lips that were splashing on about leaving my sister. He then placed his tender lips on my forehead and started to kiss away my worries. It never did take much of Tripp to settle me down.

  With his sweet lips pressed up against my forehead, he clearly mumbled, “Pretty girl, it’s a quarter mile down the road, five hundred thirty steps to the front porch if you cut through the field and it takes seventy-three seconds in the Jeep doing forty-five miles per hour. It will all be okay.”

  My heart started dancing with his words and all I could say was, “Zip it and dance with me.”

  “Ground has already been broke, and the house has been framed. We should be able to move in mid-September.”

  I burrowed deeper into Tripp’s embrace as he explained away all the details of our castle, new farm and life. Tripp said he loved construction, but missed having his hands in the dirt and his ass in the tractor seat. Of course, he would never be the same caliber of farmer as Cree, but Tripp wanted to farm a thousand acres, and had schemed up a design plan for a fruit and vegetable stand, since fresh organic food was in high demand.

  I listened to my Beast explain away our future as he twirled me on the dance floor. He was a brilliant man, beyond genius for that fact. Not even Cree understood how smart Tripp was. The man was always thinking and creating with his mind and hands. Just thinking about his sheer intelligence made me tingle up and instantly become wet.

  I interrupted him midsentence, “Baby, I need you now,” I demanded.

  “Lace you have me now and…”

  I grabbed his thick package, cupping his balls, making him come to a halt mid-sentence. Like I said, my boy is one smart sonofabitch.

  Trip threw me over his shoulder and hauled me out to the Jeep. Oh, the memories the Jeep holds for us.

  ***

  Holy Shit! Tripp wasn’t fooling when he threw the word castle around last night at the bar. He served me breakfast in bed, and had the house plans strewn all over me. By breakfast in bed I mean a banana Laffy Taffy and a chilled Diet Mt. Dew. The man really was my fucking perfect prince charming. The house plans were intense and way overwhelming.

  “Tripp, you mean that mansion up the road is ours?”

  “Yeah, well it’s not a mansion. It’s just a castle, and it’s only framed.”

  “But it’s ours?”

  “All five bathrooms, eight bedrooms, and kitchen is ours baby.”

  “Overkill much?”

  “I want it. It’s mine and we deserve it.”

  “Oh, cause I thought you were making up for your small dick with a huge castle,” I said and slapped his bare chest with my taffy.

  Tripp pinned me down to the bed and hovered over the top of me, being very careful not to smoosh our little Meatball. He knew exactly how to handle me, and by the look in his eyes, he was about to yet again teach me a very important lesson. I would always be a hopeless failure just to get a lesson from him.

  “Pretty girl, let’s see if this small dick can make you scream.”

  Letter #3

  Hey Sweet Meatball,

  Things are going well. I’m only puking about four times a week now. The bad part is, I never know when it is going to hit now. I swear your dad sees it coming before I do. Speaking of your dad, he is working on building us a castle to live in. He wants his family to live in a home he has built with his own two hands. I wouldn’t call it a house. It’s a freaking castle fit for two princesses!

  The baby bu
mp has started to show. I don’t know who is worse, Annie or Cree. They love to rub my tummy and talk to you. They are the crazies that have been petting you constantly. Aunt Milly said to get used to it because they did the same to her and Mac. And your Aunt Willow has been the one feeding us those yummy lemon bars. The one great thing about this pregnancy is eating, but only when you let me keep it in my tummy.

  I’m off to go shop with the girls in Fort Collins. I love you, Meatball!

  Love, Momma

  Chapter 20

  You Gonna Do Good

  Lacey

  Milly: want to go to state fair with us tomorrow

  Me: u buying me a corndog, bitch

  Milly: only cuz it’s feeding my godchild

  Me: what about cotton candy

  Milly: Yes

  Me: and a sliced caramel apple with chopped nuts

  Milly: Yes

  Me: and then mmm…an elephant ear scone with honey butter & powdered sugar

  Milly: Yes

  Me: and then cheesy fries

  Milly: Yes

  Me: and then a corndog

  Me: enough with the and thens you fat cow

  ***

  “Tripp! Seriously, listen the fuck up. We need a plan of attack here. First, we are hitting up the corn dog stand and then following it with a sliced caramel apple and cheesy fries, then I need to chase it with cotton candy and a grape slushee. Tripp, are you fucking listening to me?”

  Tripp was typing my demands into his phone as fast as his nimble fingers would go. I’m pretty sure he was more than happy to go get my food order, so my bitching would cease. Milly and Cree had ditched us because something was going on with Willow, and family always came first.

  “Uncle Tripp, you is gonna need to whip Aunt Lacey a lot tonight,” Annie said from Tripp’s lap.

  She was perched on his lap while he typed up my order. Of course, we drug along our favorite little burrito slayer. Annie was beyond thrilled to go to the fair with us. She had been waiting on the front porch with Olive when we drove up. Milly had dressed her in a lime green and violet purple outfit that could be spotted a mile away. She was decked out in hair bows and bangle bracelets. Annie had on Milly’s bangle that was stamped with MAC. I’m pretty sure the little shit had snuck into her momma’s jewelry. Good for her! Milly needed to be kept on her toes. We couldn’t have the bimbo getting lax in her life.