by Lainey Davis
"Babe, it's not even light out yet," I grumble, but she plunks Petey on my stomach and there's no going back to sleep after that. He starts patting my face and pulling my hair, so I pretend I'm a grizzly bear and growl at him for awhile until I hear the magic words from downstairs.
"Guys! Breakfast is ready!"
"What do you say, Champ?" I ask Petey, tossing him upside down over my shoulder.
"Let's eeeeeeeeeat!" he yells as I jiggle him around. We pass my grandmother in the hall on our way past and she smiles. I love seeing the look in her eyes when she sees me with my son. I just never imagined this part of my future, and so each day that I'm here with my family in a home—a real home, not just a house—it feels like a dream I never even hoped to wish for. I kiss my Gram on the cheek.
"Timber," she says, pulling up a chair in the dining room. "I think you need to go talk to Emma."
I raise an eyebrow at her. "Pretty sure Thatcher has that under control, Gram. Alice, this is amazing." She made muffins and sliced strawberries, although Petey has eaten most of those by the time I reach over to grab the bowl.
My grandmother shakes her head. "Thatcher's panicking. Emma is, too. You're good in a crisis." Grabbing a plate and a coffee, she heads back upstairs without a look back. That's her M-O. She drops truth bombs and takes off to play bridge online.
Alice sits next to me and rubs my leg while I chew. "I think she might be right," she says.
Talking with my mouth full, I ask, "Shouldn't you talk to her? You're the one who experienced getting pregnant unexpectedly!"
Alice nods and ponders that for a minute. "Yeah," she says. "That's true, Tim, but I think your grandma is right about this. Emma listens to you, in a competitive, wise-old-man type of way."
I sigh. "Obviously I'm biased here. She's pregnant with a Stag child and they're financially secure and, you remember, Alice, I have connections with some high-risk obstetricians. I've been doing some research…"
"Of course you have, Tim," she says. "That's why I love you. I also think you've been researching this to avoid thinking about having to replace Juniper at work. And that's ok, too. You don't need to solve all your problems at once." I snort, and Alice stands up to start working on tying her curls back in a ponytail. It takes her awhile, and I love staring at her while she does it. She laughs and kisses my cheek. "Go talk to Emma, and ask Thatcher to borrow his truck so you can get the tree." Scooping up our son, she nuzzles his nose and climbs upstairs to wrestle him into some clothes. “I’ll make you some caramel sauce while you’re gone.”
She winks at me and disappears. I guess she’s right that I should go see my brother.
I grab a muffin and stick it in a paper bag, then grab a second one for Thatcher so it doesn't look like I'm a total asshole barging in on them before 8 in the morning.
By the time I get to their house, though, I see that I'm not their first visitor. Thatcher had bought a double lot on the north side of the city to renovate into a glass studio and living space. He put in a car port on the side lot with a little fenced in patio. I can't help but think how nice that would be for a little Stag kid to run around outside, maybe hang out with Petey. We don't bring him over here much, but I should probably change that. "Maybe Thatcher and Emma should host Thanksgiving," I mutter, blowing a cold breath into my fist. I wish I'd worn some gloves.
I park next to an unfamiliar black coupe and punch in the code to get inside. As I climb up to the loft, I hear a familiar voice. Emma's friend Nicole is yelling, "It all sounds like bullshit to me, Ems." Before I can decide whether to knock or eavesdrop, the door to the loft slides open and Nicole whips her head in my direction. "Oh, Christ, it's you," she sighs. "I guess you're here to talk sense into her, too."
I'm not sure what to say here, especially since I don't know what Nicole is talking about specifically, so I hold out the bag. "Alice sent muffins!" My voice is falsely cheerful as I try to assess this situation as I might a difficult courtroom.
Nicole snatches the bag from my hand and peers inside. She takes a muffin and tosses the bag to Emma, who is sprawled on the couch looking green. "Eat this," Nicole says. "I think you can keep it down." Changing her direction back to me, Nicole takes a bite, and says, "I take it you're really here to talk to Emma, though." I nod. "Good," she says. "We've got a small window here to make a decision and I don't believe Emma is approaching said decision properly."
"What do you mean?" Emma groans and runs into the bathroom. Nicole grins and walks over to the counter, where I see she has set out a giant pad of paper.
"Decisions require strategy," she says. "In any situation, you must lay out all the elements, weigh pros and cons, and take insight from all stakeholders." I see that Nicole has begun to write a lot of this down. I pull up a stool and nod for her to continue. "Now," she says, "Nobody is going to tell Emma what to do here. But I'd like to make sure she has approached this systematically." I see phrases like "health risk--comparatively minor" and "co-parenting potential--extraordinarily high."
Emma staggers back from the bathroom and Nicole hands her some water. "Are you ready to hear the rest of my presentation?" Emma rolls her eyes and nods. I sit back with my arms crossed as Nicole pulls out sheets of research study summaries. She tells Emma all about the risks of pregnancy for women with epilepsy, and counters each risk with information about resources available here in Pittsburgh. My jaw drops. I've never seen anyone so prepared for an argument since…well, since I put myself through law school. This is a master class on debate.
"Moving on," Nicole says, flipping the page. She's printed an unflattering picture of Thatcher and taped it to the paper. "Thatcher Stag has already won me over as a partner for you." She looks at Emma. "We've been over this part before, but now we have an audience, so I'm reviewing." Emma groans again while Nicole points out that Thatcher has a tendency toward crabbiness, but finds thoughtful gifts, is great with his nephew, and "the man doles out hundreds of orgasms, Ems." Nicole taps a pencil on the counter as Emma turns scarlet. I cough, uncomfortably. I suppose it's good to know my brother is a thoughtful lover. Where the hell are these thoughts coming from, I think, looking around for something else to focus on in my brother's apartment, with his pregnant fiancé looking nauseous.
"The way I see it," Nicole continues, "On paper, this pregnancy gets the green light. So I'm waiting for a rational rebuttal from you, Emma, because I've been over and over all of this and my advice to you would be to proceed."
Emma looks at me, and there's something in her eyes I can't place. "I'm scared," she whispers. "I'm scared of so many things. Like, what if I have a major seizure and cause brain damage to the baby? And what if…" she drifts off. "What if I'm a shitty mom?" As she says this, she begins to cry and I remember what Thatcher told me about her own mother's coldness, and her preference for Emma's older sister.
I came over here expecting to use logic and try to argue with Emma, but I see now that she just really needs a hug. I slip into another role I've been playing for decades, since my mother died. I wrap my arms around her and whisper into her hair. “I’m here. I will help you. Everything will be fine, Emma." She cries into my chest as I think about Alice, so confident in her mothering because she had such a vibrant mother and the close support of her huge family. "We are all here with you, Emma. All of us." I lift her chin and meet her eyes with my own. "You're a Stag now."
9
THATCHER
I open the door to my house to see Nicole staring at my brother, who is cradling Emma. "What the hell is everyone crying about," I say. As it's falling out of my mouth, I know I'm just proving everyone right who thinks I'm a cranky old bastard. This whole thing is fucking with my head. Emma won't even talk to me half the time, and it's killing me.
She's pregnant, carrying a tiny Stag baby. My fucking baby. And she won't talk about it since her stay in the hospital when she said she wasn't sure if she'd keep the pregnancy. I keep thinking back to our argument before she had the seizure. I know she's r
ight--I haven't been doing a good job showing her how I feel about her. How she's my everything. The only person half the time who keeps me from being a hermit with no friends.
There’s no use dancing into this, so I just blurt, “Emma, you're the light of my life," and everyone whips their head around to stare at me. I ignore all of them but Emma. "Can I show you something?"
Nobody says anything, but Tim lets go of my girl and wipes at his eye. "Hey, man," he says, patting me on the shoulder. Apparently Emma is going to make me work to get her to come see my surprise. I shake off my coat and hang it on a hook as he keeps talking. Something about Christmas trees and Alice and Thanksgiving dinner. "So can I borrow your truck?"
"What?"
"Your truck. The old beater…white stick shift piece of shit truck? Can I borrow it?"
I have to laugh at the thought of Tim driving my truck when he's told me a thousand times that it's not up to his safety standards. "No can do, Timmy. Sorry."
"You don't have to be a dick, Thatcher. Alice asked me not to get pine needles in the Volvo."
Emma sniffs and I look over at her, meeting her gaze. "I can't lend you the truck because I got rid of it this morning," I say. I hold out a set of keys for Emma to see. "I wanted to get something safer. Something better for a family."
Nobody talks for a minute and I feel the crisp breeze come through the sliding door to our loft. "You sold the truck?" Emma's voice is a whisper. "You love that truck."
I nod and close the distance between us. God, it always feels so good to hold her. Her scent washes over me as I suck in great lungfuls of Emma. "I love you more," I say. I can practically hear Tim rolling his eyes at me. Emma lets me hug her and I pull her in, nestling my chin in her red hair, rubbing her back. She smells a little bit like peppermint today, and I’m glad she’s been drinking the tea I got her to settle her stomach.
In the background, I hear Nicole clicking her tongue at my brother. "What's the point of being filthy rich if you're not going to take advantage of the service industry," she scolds. I hear her clicking around on her phone. "Look," she says, shoving her phone in Tim's face as I pet Emma's hair. "This tree place delivers."
"How about the two of you get out of here and let me talk to Emma in peace," I say, squeezing her shoulders. "I want to show her my new family wagon. Which I had to park on the street, by the way, because there's no room in my own damn car port."
Tim and Nicole make their way out as Emma starts to cry softly against my shoulder. "Talk to me, Chezz," I tell her. "I'm dying without you."
"I'm scared, Thatcher." Her voice is muffled in my shirt.
"I know you are. I'm scared, too. God, I'm so scared something will happen to you. Can we talk about it?"
I tip her face up so she meets my eye. Her cheeks are wet with tears and I hate that. I don't think she's cried since we were first together, when we were just pretending to be a couple, and I was too dumb to communicate my feelings to her. “I will do anything for you, Emma,” I assure her. “Can we read the stuff your doctors sent?”
She lets me guide her over to the couch and we read over some of the pamphlets from the OB. My mind keeps wandering between our argument and the idea of her growing my baby inside her. Finally, I can't take it anymore. "Emma," I say. "I want to show you our new car."
She raises an eyebrow at me. I sigh. "I wanted to do something…a gesture. I want to show you I'm all in here. I want to be your in case of emergency person at the hospital, and I want you to know I'm a serious adult capable of being a dad. And I want you to know that you're it for me."
I grab her coat and start wrapping it around her so I can walk her downstairs. "Take a ride with me, Emma." She looks at the silver Audi SUV I bought and snorts.
"That's quite an upgrade, Stag," she says. "Did they laugh at you when you traded in the truck?" She punches my arm playfully and I open the door for her to climb in.
"I'll have you know I sold the truck to Cody at a discounted rate,” I tell her. "I can't very well haul glass supplies around in my new family vehicle."
Emma sits in the leather interior, looking around at all the fancy-ass features I don't even know if we need. I just told the guy at the dealership I wanted the best car for a family. As per usual, he took one look at my ink and my ripped jeans and thought I was taking him for a ride, but I pulled out my Black AmEx card and all of a sudden he was sweet as pie. I did all right for myself before I started doing work for the hottest new architect in Pittsburgh, but my commission last year really set Stag Glass up with the big leagues. I have more money than sense, Tim keeps telling me. Now I’m going to spend some of it on Emma.
"Hey, Em," I tell her, tucking some of her wild red hair behind her ear. "Even if…I want you to know I think you should be riding around in this kind of car." I swallow. I can't even bring myself to talk about what she said at the hospital. I can't say those words out loud. "There are so many air bags in here, babe. I should have upgraded for you a long time ago. Kept the truck just for deliveries." She smiles. "Should we go show your parents?"
That brings out a laugh. She hasn't even told them anything yet. I know we're supposed to see them for brunch soon, since we will be with my family for Thanksgiving dinner. Emma has been avoiding talking about it, and I know she doesn't want to drive over there right now. She looks off into the distance and shivers a little. I start the engine and turn on her seat heater for her. "Can we go spy on Tim and Alice picking out a Christmas tree?" she asks.
I grin and put the car in gear. "Abso-fucking-lutely."
10
TY
Juniper and I have been staring at each other across our kitchen table for a few days. Every now and then, one of us will say, “Pregnant. Hm.” It’s such a fucking weird feeling. We made a human. Not even on purpose. It seemed hilarious when this happened to Tim. Now that it’s me about to be a dad? Everything is swirling around in my head. Like Christmas. It’s almost Christmas. Next year at this time I’ll be buying presents for a kid and playing Santa and all that. And who even knows if I’ll be in town for the kid’s first Christmas. I’m on the road all the fucking time for hockey. It’s not like Juniper can pack up and come with me. She has a fucking career. And you can’t just have a baby go through time zones and stuff.
“Judge Juney,” I say, slurping at my coffee.
“Hm?”
“Judge Juney. I want to call you that, JJ.” I smile at her. I’m so damn proud of my wife. She’s a rock star. But we are barely holding our shit together over here. Both of us have really demanding jobs. I only just figured out about sending out laundry. How will a baby Stag fit into this madness? I scoot my chair closer to her and drop a hand on her thigh like nothing’s happened. I just want to touch her, reassure myself that’s she still there. Still real.
“What do we think about asking Becky for more help around here,” I ask, waving my hand around our townhouse, where the dishes are piling high. Our housekeeper had been coming once a week for just a few hours, but if Juniper’s going to be falling asleep at 6pm and puking all morning, we are going to need more help. Especially if I’m on the road. I tug on my hair. It should be me here every morning by my wife’s side, rubbing her back while she barfs. I guess until we figure out an answer, we can just get more help.
Juniper nods and says, “that’s a really good idea, Ty.” She sighs. “I have to go to the store. I need more crackers and stuff.”
“I’ll order that for you online,” I tell her, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “We can have them delivered. You’ve got me all to yourself for like 18 more hours. Can we talk about…all of this?”
She sighs a deep, slow agreement and tells me, “I just keep thinking about my mom. I have no idea who she is. Or was?” Juniper grew up in a group home until her dad adopted her as a kid. We never did find out who her birth parents were. “I don’t have any way to know if she got sick every day like this. If she had an easy birth…I have no history, Ty. How can I do this without history?
”
“It’s not a legal case, JJ. You don’t need to find the precedent. We will figure it all out together.” I lean in and kiss her forehead, then tug her onto my lap and rub her back while I can. “We will just ask Alice everything.”
Resting my chin on the top of her head, I wonder about my own mom. Tim showed us the picture of her on the wall at the midwife place where Alice had Petey. Tim and Thatcher can remember mom pregnant with me, and I sure am jealous of that. But fuck. I can’t wait to see what Juniper looks like pregnant with a little Staglet. “This baby is going to be so damn tall,” I tell her, dropping a hand to her stomach. Her abs are still tight and firm. We did some math after the election and she’s just a month pregnant. It must have happened on that stretch of home games where I was waking her up to celebrate every night in between her campaign stops and my pre-season games. I smile, wondering if we made a baby on the kitchen floor or on the couch or in our bed.
“I can feel you thinking dirty thoughts, Tyrion Stag,” she says, but she wraps her arms around me. I feel like the ice has been broken. Like we can be ourselves around each other again. “I guess I need to make a baby plan. Like when am I supposed to see a doctor?”
“Do you think you want to try seeing the midwives where my mom went?” I try not to sound desperate, but god damn, I want some connection with my family for all of this. I want to see that midwife who saw my mom through having all of us. “I’d like to at least go check them out. If that’s ok,” I tell her.
Juniper sighs again and tells me Alice has been pestering her to do that, too. “Alice says the baby will glide right out of me because I have powerful thighs,” she laughs. But I figure that’s probably true. Juniper is tough as hell. At least the baby won’t come until after playoffs, I think, looking at the wall calendar. I know for damn sure I wouldn’t miss my kid being born, but it’s definitely a lot easier knowing I don’t have to dance around the pro hockey schedule.
