by Lainey Davis
"Won't Alice bake the bread," I ask, trying to soothe her. But this just makes Juniper cry.
"I told her I'd get it," she sobs. "I wanted to feel like I could do this family dinner thing and still contribute and run a campaign and get the damn tattoo, but I didn't even remember to get cash for the housekeeper."
I bend down and lift her out of her seat. Juniper is a tall woman. She's 5-10, and an athlete, but I'm a professional hockey player. I bench press more than she weighs. I know she loves that I can haul her around like she's weightless. Ok, maybe not weightless, but damn if I'll ever let her hear me struggle to lift her. "What tattoo, babe," I ask, carrying her to our room. I like that she’s tall enough to look me in the eye when we’re dancing.
I place her on the edge of our bed and get to work removing her office wear. She winces again, and I furrow my brow. She looks up at me with those big, brown eyes of hers and I kneel on the ground in front of her as she peels off her blouse. She twists to the side a bit and then I see it. My wife got the same tattoo as me and my brothers.
"Woah," I say. She smiles shyly. "Babe, that's fucking amazing."
"Do you like it? I wanted to feel close to you, especially since I never changed my name."
I kiss her skin all around the tattoo, careful not to touch it directly. "I fucking love it," I tell her. "Now I need one for you." She laughs. "I'm serious. What should I get? I’ll put your face on my other pec.” I tip her back on the bed and she falls asleep plotting out potential designs I could get inked on my chest. I pull out my phone to search for some images, and I remember that I never called Thatcher back. Shit, I think, looking at the screen. I missed about five calls from each of my brothers.
It's past midnight, so I don't bother calling Tim. I wouldn't want to wake up Petey. But Tim picks up when I call Thatcher’s phone. That’s weird, I think. "Hey," Tim says. "We have a situation." I look over at Juniper and, not wanting to wake her, either, I step back into the living room.
"What happened? Why are you answering Thatcher's phone?"
"Emma's pregnant," he says, his voice unreadable, like he's already in lawyer mode.
"Woah! That's amazing! Another nephew for Team Stag. Obviously it’ll be a boy. Fucking awesome," I start celebrating. This isn't like when Tim knocked up Alice after they were only together a few weeks. Emma's been with Thatcher for ages. "Will she have the baby at that midwife center where we were born? Where Alice had Petey?"
"Tyrion, Emma has epilepsy, remember?" And with that, Tim's words bring back the memory of how Emma had a big seizure at a family dinner once. She ended up in the hospital then, although she said that was mainly just a precaution.
"What does that mean? Is everything ok?" Tim explains that they're keeping her for observations, that she hasn't woken up yet from having another big seizure.
"They're going to do an ultrasound and check out the baby, try to figure out how far along she is. Her neurologist has to consult with some of the high-risk obstetricians to figure out a plan…basically they can't do anything until business hours tomorrow."
"Business hours? What is that--a bank? Fuck that shit! Tell them to get in the lab right now.” I look over at Juniper, still sleeping in our bed. "Do you need me to come in there and be famous?"
Tim sighs. "Not tonight, brother. There isn't much they can do until Emma wakes up, anyway. But maybe you can come spell me sitting with Thatcher? Alice and I have to get home and get Petey…when do you leave for Denver?"
"Fuck." My flight leaves in a few hours. Now I'm kicking the couch. My family needs me, my wife needs me. Everything is falling apart.
6
THATCHER
Nicole insists we wait for Emma to wake up before they do the ultrasound, even though the doc says they can roll a cart in here right now and check things out. Nicole gets right up in my face, flaring her nostrils at me, and I'm about to lose my damn mind when Tim and Alice rush into the room.
He puts a hand on my shoulder and I tense my whole body, not sure if I want to punch him just to release all this energy, or collapse against him like I'm ten years old and he's the only one I can lean on.
Tim pulls me into a hug and says, "We are going to figure all this out, Thatcher. All of us. Together." Alice grabs my hand and rubs my thumb and my breathing slows a little bit. I'm not sure how much time passes. Tim and Alice and Nicole cycle in and out, taking turns sitting with me by Emma's bed and I guess camping out in the waiting room. Who even knows.
It feels like one hundred years before Emma groans and opens her eyes, curling up in a ball on her side. "Shhh, Chezz." I put my face next to hers on the bed, my hand stroking her hair. I remember that she had terrible muscle aches the last time she had a seizure and I wonder if I should buzz someone to bring her any pain meds. “Emma, talk to me, please."
Her mouth works up and down, and side to side, before she meets my eyes and says, "Thatcher." A single tear spills out from one eye, and I bite my lip, wanting to take all this away from her and knowing it can't. "I thought I was done having seizures. I thought I was going to be normal." She starts to cry, and I kiss her forehead, trying to soothe her with gentle touches.
"You are perfect, Emma. You know that, right? You're perfect to me. You're my everything." I climb into the bed and try to scoop her into my lap without disrupting her IV, but all the commotion sets off a series of beeps on her IV pole. It's probably just as well, because the nurse comes in so I ask her if there's anything she can give Emma for her aching muscles.
The nurse frowns at me, but I'm not going to leave my Chezz and climb out of this bed without a fight. "Can you go get Dr. Khalsa?" My voice is sharper than I intend, but I've never had a pregnant girlfriend before and fuck everyone standing in the way of me knowing answers.
Emma settles in against my shoulder and asks me what happened. I'm not sure if she remembers the fight we were having before her seizure, but I leave that part out and ensure her I called her doctor right away and drove her here to meet with him. "I actually don't know how long ago that was, Chezz. I think it might be morning by now…"
Nicole and, inexplicably, Ty come into the room just then. "Emma!" Ty crouches by the bed so she doesn't have to look up at his big, tall mug. "Listen. I have to fly out in like fifteen minutes, but I couldn't leave town without coming in to see if you were doing ok."
"Well, Ty," she says, grinning, "I feel like shit. But I appreciate you making a pit stop for little old me. Tell me what's going on out there." Emma gestures toward the waiting room while Nicole chugs coffee and taps her foot.
Ty smiles one of his devilish grins. "Did you see Juniper got a tattoo?" Emma nods. "It's fucking hot. You should get one, too." He winks at Emma. "When you're done being pregnant, obviously."
Fuck. I feel Emma stiffen. Her eyes widen and her voice seeps out in a whisper. "What?"
"Ah shit. Did I screw up?" Ty stands up, his joints popping, as Nicole swats him in the stomach.
"Get the fuck out of here and go win a hockey game, Tyrion," she says, capturing my sentiments. "Listen, Ems." Nicole sits on the bed and squeezes Emma's hand. "Dr. Khalsa thinks you had a seizure because your body is adjusting to rapidly shifting hormones."
"What are you talking about? Thatcher, what the hell do you guys know?"
Nicole raises her eyebrows. I sigh. "Emma, babe." I rub her shoulder and meet her eyes. Her pupils are tiny and I can tell she's terrified. "They did a bunch of tests when you came in, just to rule stuff out. One of them was a pregnancy test, sweetheart. And it was positive."
She starts shaking her head. "Nope. No. I'm on the pill." She looks at Nicole. "I always take my meds. I never miss my meds! I don't fucking drink. I set timers. I have little pill trays all sectioned out."
"Dr. Khalsa was saying that antibiotic you were on a little while ago might have made your birth control pills ineffective," I tell her. I'm not sure how I feel about how upset she seems, but then again, I'd be pissed too if people had conversations about me while I was
passed out.
"Thatcher," she looks up at me. "That was 2 months ago." I nod. "So I'm 2 months pregnant? That's like…really pregnant…"
I weave my fingers through hers and raise her hand to kiss it gently. By this time, Ty has left but Tim and Alice have wandered back in along with Nicole, so the room is really fucking crowded when Dr. Khalsa pops his head in with a thin woman in scrubs. "Ah! Emma! I heard you were up," he says. "This is Dr. Elizabeth Hudson, one of our high-risk obstetricians."
Emma's eyes shoot around the room, flitting between all the doctors and Stags and Nicole. Dr. Hudson shakes Emma's hand and pulls a small machine out of her pocket. "Emma, if Dr. Khalsa's theory about your pregnancy is accurate, you should be far enough along that I could pick up a heartbeat on this device. If you could raise your gown we could check things out, make sure everything is ok with Baby."
Emma shakes her head, and I frown. I move to help her raise her gown but she swats my hand out of the way. "I'm not doing that," she says.
"Chezz," I start, sliding off the edge of the bed. "Come on. We have to see if the baby is ok after your seizure. I'm fucking dying here not knowing."
Emma meets my eye and I see a fury unlike she's shown me for a long time. She grits her teeth and says, through a locked jaw, "It doesn't matter if it's fine because I'm not going to stay pregnant."
7
TY
I played one hell of a game tonight. God, it feels good to sink a goal right through the five-hole, take the goalie off guard and watch that signal light up when the puck hits the net. My teammates pound me on the shoulder as we all walk back to the locker room afterward, and I wonder why the fuck I'm not feeling more excited.
We haven't lost a game yet, which I know isn't saying much because it's barely November, but I should be on a huge high after scoring and maintaining our streak. Some members of the press stop me in the hall on my way to the locker room. The reporter seems comically short standing on the ground next to me in my skates, but it's their choice not to wait for me until I've showered.
"Ty, how's it feel to score your 250th goal for the NHL?"
"Was tonight 250? I seriously hadn't been keeping track. I've just been loving playing for the Fury and as you know, I've got a great group of guys out there with me." It's weird that I didn't realize I was close to that milestone. This is my tenth year of pro hockey. I signed right out of high school. Shit, I'm getting old. The reporter is blinking at me and I realize I missed a question. "I'm sorry. I'm still letting it sink in that I shot 250 goals. Could you repeat the question?" I flash my two-dimple smile and I know they'll forgive anything.
"Sure thing, Ty. We asked what you think about the election. Your wife running for judge?"
"Aw man, my wife is going to be an amazing judge! She's a ferocious lawyer and loves defending the underdog in court. It just so happens we have an off day on Election Day, so I'll be thrilled to stand by her side while the numbers come in."
The reporter looks at me confused. "You're not worried her career will get in the way of your playoff hopes?"
Now it's my turn to be confused. "How so? You know we made it to the quarterfinals the year my wife took Olympic gold in rowing, right?” The reporter starts to make some comment, but I cut them off. “Listen. Juniper Jones is a force of nature. I'm so fucking proud of her. We push each other. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've gotta go shower."
I hate these interviews. What do they want me to say? That I'd rather have some puck bunny who lives for my career and follows me everywhere? Honestly, I've had my share of those women. Juniper is my soul mate. I don't give a shit if that sounds cheesy. I felt a connection with her that first minute we met. I don’t need her doting on me. I just need her to be herself.
I hurry through the showers and find a quiet room to call home. Shit's been insane with my family and I haven't been in Pittsburgh at all to help with any of it. My brother Tim is losing his mind at Juniper leaving the firm and Thatcher is freaking the fuck out because Emma says she doesn't want to keep the baby. Something about pregnancy being too high risk with her epilepsy.
I don't know what to say to any of them. All I know is when I call Juniper, she can tell me about her campaign stuff and I can pretend I understand what she's talking about, and remind her that she's got my vote. Always.
I look at the time as the phone rings and rings. Juniper isn't picking up. It's not that late. We put away that game in under 3 hours. "Hello?" She finally answers, and I can tell I woke her up.
"Aw, JJ, I'm sorry. Were you asleep?"
"Shit," she says. "I don’t know why I'm this tired. I mean, I've been going hard but not that hard. I didn't even row today."
"You missed your workout?" Juniper has never missed a workout since I've known her. She holds meetings from the indoor rowing machine sometimes if shit is really busy, with her assistant taking notes while Juniper bangs out a few miles. "You feeling ok, babe?"
"Hmm," she says. "I guess I'm not. I'm really run down. When are you back?"
I promise her I'll take the redeye, fly home before the team. My JJ needs me. "I'm going to take you to the doctor tomorrow morning. Get some sleep, babe. Whatever you were going to do tonight can wait." She yawns, and I try not to worry. I clean out my hotel room quickly and text my manager that I'm skipping town early. As I hail a cab to the airport, I feel this sinking sense of dread that I'm not where I'm supposed to be.
I know this is my job. It's not like I'm out of town getting laid or sitting on the beach somewhere. But my family needs me and I’m not there. That’s not ok. They've all come to expect me to not be helpful, and more and more, that pisses me off. I stare out the window, thinking how much my shoulder hurts and how empty my win feels knowing the people I love are hurting, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it.
Juniper is out cold when I get home, and in the furor of Election Day, she won't agree to go with me to the doctor in the morning. We walk to the polls together and I don't even pull on a baseball cap. I want to be seen voting for my JJ. I hear some of the poll workers explaining to people in line that they can't just show up here to vote--they have to go vote in their own neighborhood. Once I click the button I walk over and sign some autographs, encourage them to go back to make their vote count.
Some of them follow us when we start driving to her campaign headquarters, but I don't mind that either. I promise Juniper I'll put them all to work for her when we arrive. It weighs on me that she has dark circles under her eyes. Alice is chipper as always, greeting us with breakfast sandwiches and bunches of hot coffee, but I see her frown when Juniper runs off to the bathroom to throw up. "It's just nerves, right?" I ask my brother Tim. He scratches his chin and makes eye contact with Alice. Whatever. I don't have time to interpret their secret eyeball language.
I start making calls for Juniper. I love this part of helping her campaign. Every time I get a potential voter on the phone, I reassure them that yes, it's really me. Yes, hockey players care about political stuff…it helps when my hot-ass wife is the one running for office.
By mid-day, it seems like we are doing really well and I convince Juniper to come sit and have a sandwich. She really seems to perk up after that.
I spend some time goofing off with my brothers around the campaign office. I can’t think of the last time we all spent time together like this. It must have been since before pre-season started for me.
Emma stayed home today. Thatcher said she doesn't want to get involved, since her dad is running for re-election, too, and she kind of hates her dad. We don't talk about the pregnancy thing. From what Tim said, Emma still doesn't want to go through with it…but she's sort of on a timeline for when she has to make that choice. My guts ache for Thatcher, thinking about his position right now. It's not like he's always wanted to be a dad, but he and Emma have a good thing going. He's really great with our nephew. I shake my head and get back to the phones. No time to worry about all this stuff today.
The polls close at 8 and
Juniper is nowhere to be seen. Some folks are here from the news, which makes me really wish we had Emma around, because she knows how to talk to these reporters. Emma works for a huge newspaper and her writing is the main reason I ever read anything anymore. Television reporters give Emma more space if she’s ever hanging around me, since she works with them at the Post.
I guess I’m the next best thing to Juniper, wherever she is, and I sidle up to talk to the press. “Hey, guys, what's the good news?" I ask them, hoping I can buy some time until my wife turns up. Where the hell would she go right now? I wonder.
I shoot the shit with some of the reporters, trying to keep the conversation related to the Fury since I have no idea how to talk about politics stuff. It’s a little weird to me that being a judge is something you have to get voted into, not promoted. But whatever, Juniper will kick ass either way. I'm neck deep in a conversation about our playoff potential for this season when I finally see Juniper coming down the hallway. She must have been in the back doing…god knows what.
Her campaign manager-slash-rowing coach runs up and grabs her arm. He shouts excitedly, "Did you see the reports, Juniper? You're in!"
She doesn't answer him. She must be overcome with happiness. I can relate. Sometimes it takes a minute for good news to sink in. She makes a face at me, connects with my eyes and locks me in place with her stare. “JJ,” I say, walking toward her. "Did you hear Derek? You won, babe."
"I'm pregnant," she says, and I look down to see she's holding a white plastic stick. Camera flashes start popping and all the sound leaves as the walls close in around me. The stick in her hand says pregnant in bright blue letters.
8
TIM
Alice shakes me awake much earlier than I need to be up. We are supposed to go buy a Christmas tree later, even though it's not December yet. Alice insists we need the tree up and decorated by the time we host Thanksgiving here and I'm trying not to think about all those people in my house plus having to string lights and sweep up tree needles.
