Day-Day

by Cronk, LN

  “Chinese take-out?”

  “Anyway . . . so then you’ll get pregnant and you’ll keep working about eighty hours a week until the baby’s due and then we’ll fly home so we can be with our parents when the baby comes and you and your mom are going to buy him every outfit that’s available in Cavendish.”

  “Him?”

  “And then,” I continued, ignoring her, “we’ll fly back to Mexico with the new baby and carry on until you get pregnant again. This cycle will pretty much repeat itself until you hit menopause.

  “OH!” I said. “And I almost forgot! In the meantime, you’ll keep growing your hair out and sending it to Locks of Love until it turns grey!”

  “They take it even if it’s grey . . .” Laci said.

  “What little kid wants a wig made out of grey hair?”

  “They sell it . . .”

  “Oh,” I said. “Okay, so then you’ll be doing that until you die. Anyway, admit it. That’s pretty much the way it’s going to be.”

  “And what are you going to be doing during all this time?” she asked.

  “Working like a dog and hoping for a little bit of your time, I guess.”

  She smiled at me, but then turned serious.

  “What if that’s exactly what happens?” she asked. “How are you going to feel about it?”

  “It doesn’t matter how I feel about it,” I said. “I’m just along for the ride.”

  “It does too matter how you feel about it,” she argued. “I want you to be happy.”

  “I am happy.”

  Laci looked at me with concern.

  “I don’t really want anything,” I said, kissing her. “Except to be with you.”

  “Oh, come on now,” she said, smiling. “If you could do anything . . . what would you do?”

  “Laci! There’s no point in even having this conversation. God wants me to go to Mexico so I’m going to Mexico. I haven’t even thought about what I’d do if it was up to me . . . I really don’t know.”

  “Oh,” she said, “I do. I know exactly what you’d do. I’m not the only one who’s predictable!”

  “I’m not predictable!”

  “Right . . .”

  “What then?” I demanded. “What would I do?”

  “Okay,” she said. “We’d stay fairly close to Cavendish . . . but closer to the ski slopes than Cavendish is. We’d probably live on the water somewhere . . . like a cabin on Cross Lake or something. We’d go water skiing in the summer and snow skiing in the winter and fishing no matter what the weather . . . how am I doing so far?”

  I grinned at her . . . that actually sounded pretty good. Maybe I was predictable.

  “Oh!” she continued. “And our cabin would have a hot tub! I know how much you like a hot tub. As a matter of fact, I may not know where we’re going for our honeymoon, but I would almost bet my life that there’s going to be a hot tub there. Am I right?”

  “In our room,” I nodded.

  Her mouth dropped open.

  “You’re kidding!”

  “No, I’m not.”

  She shook her head and I knew she was trying not to ask me how much all this was going to cost.

  “I know this isn’t exactly your first choice of things to do . . .” she said.

  That was an understatement.

  “And,” she continued, “I just want to do whatever I can to make you happy.”

  “You already do,” I said, rubbing her hand.

  “That’s sweet,” she said, “but I’m serious. You’ve got to let me know what you want.”

  “There are a couple of things that I want . . .” I admitted, looking down at our hands and touching her rings.

  She tucked a leg underneath her.

  “Tell me,” she said.

  “Three actually,” I finally said. “Three things that I really want and then you can have your way about everything else.”

  “What are they?”

  The first two were easy and I didn’t think she’d give me a hard time about them so that’s where I started.

  “First of all,” I said, “I want you to promise me that you’ll forget about everything else and just enjoy our honeymoon. Don’t think about going to Mexico . . . don’t think about how much money it’s costing. Just relax and let’s enjoy being there and being with each other. We’re never going to have this time in our lives together again and it would be really nice if we could try to make the most of it.”

  “I promise,” she said, “but I’d enjoy it even more if I knew where we’re going.”

  I hadn’t even let her look at her boarding pass when we’d gone through security and I’d made her sit with her back to the gate where the flight was posted.

  “You’re going to know soon,” I said, looking at my watch. “As a matter of fact, if you listen carefully you’re probably going to hear an announcement for our flight pretty quick.”

  We were going to France. As soon as we’d gotten back from our mission trip and started high school, Laci had switched her elective language class from French to Spanish because she knew she’d be going back to Mexico one day. The French class (the one she’d dropped out of) had gone to Paris when they were juniors. Laci had never complained about it or anything – she’d never even mentioned she was aware that they were going or that she was missing it. But I knew she’d missed it and I wanted her to go now.

  “What are the other two things?” she asked.

  “Whatever house we get, I’m going to need an office.”

  She nodded. I was fortunate enough to have found a job with an engineering firm that allowed me to work from my home . . . even a home in Mexico. My degree was in structural engineering with an emphasis in earthquake engineering. In addition to working with architects to design buildings, I’d be doing a lot of international work – traveling to areas after an earthquake to inspect buildings for structural damage. As long as I had the Internet I could really work from anywhere and Mexico City wasn’t actually a bad place to be based out of.

  “I need my office to be completely off limits to kids,” I said. “ALL kids. Our kids, the outreach kids . . . I can’t have juice down in my keyboard and grilled cheese sandwiches smeared all over my scanner.”

  She smiled at me.

  “I mean it, Laci. I need a space to myself . . . you know? Something that’s just mine.”

  “Are you going to let me come in?”

  “Yeah, right,” I said. “Like you’re going to have any time for me . . .”

  “David,” she said, cocking her head at me. “Come on . . .”

  “So,” I said, smiling, “that’s the second thing, okay? No kids in my office. Not even one . . . not ever! Got it?”

  “Got it,” she said. “What’s the third thing?”

  I hesitated because I wasn’t sure how she was going to react. I also wasn’t sure why I felt so strongly the way I did. I didn’t know if God was leading me or if I was just trying make myself feel better about my lousy attitude toward Mexico.

  “I want you to talk to Aaron when we get to Mexico,” I said. Aaron had been our program leader when we were on our mission trip and now he was the director of the entire Mexico City outreach program. He’d hired Laci.

  “About what?” she asked.

  “I want you to tell him that you won’t accept a salary.”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “I mean . . . you can do the same job he hired you for and you can work as long and as hard as you want to . . . but I don’t want you to take a paycheck.”

  “Why not?”

  “I want to support what you’re doing . . . I guess it’s my way of trying to help out. Aaron can use the money to hire another staff member.”

  “There’re lots of ways you’re going to be able to help out, David”

  “I don’t want to, Laci,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t want to go back to that landfill . . . I don’t want to get to know these kids . . . I really don’t want to be invol
ved.”

  She tilted her head at me.

  “Do you really think that you’re going to be able to live down there and have all those kids in our house and not get involved?”

  “Probably not . . . but I can try.”

  She gave me a slight smile.

  “Anyway,” I said. “I just feel really strongly about this . . . that this is how I want to help out right now. Are you going to be okay with that?”

  “I think it’s fantastic,” she said, her smile growing.

  “Really?”

  “Really,” she nodded.

  “Your attention please . . . Flight 1873 to Paris will begin boarding in five minutes. Flight 1873 to Paris will begin boarding in five minutes.”

  “Is that ours?” she asked.

  I grinned at her and nodded.

  “Paris?”

  “You don’t want to go to Paris?”

  “Isn’t that going to be really expen–” she caught herself just in time.

  “Come on now, Laci. I’m only asking for three things here and then you can have your way about everything else. Enjoy our honeymoon, keep the little rugrats out of my office, and let me support you. I’ll never make you do anything else. Do we have a deal?”

  “Deal!” she said, kissing me and wrapping her arms around me.

  I hugged her back and I really did mean what I was saying.

  I had no idea that one day I would force her to leave Mexico even though she desperately wanted to stay.

  ~ ~ ~

  AFTER A WEEK in France we arrived in Mexico and decided on a house within two days (the pink one). My accountant (Dad) had convinced me not to rent, but to buy something right away. Even though it could be hard for foreigners to legally purchase property in Mexico, they could do it easily by having a bank hold it in trust for them. Dad had assured me that I couldn’t go wrong.

  The pink house was vacant and they agreed to let us rent until we were able to close on it, so we were able to move in right away. It had lots of rooms and no lawn . . . just a courtyard with gravel and weeds.

  Laci designated the biggest “extra” room as my office and I spent my first few days there setting it up. My mom had gotten pictures from the mothers of my best friends and had them blown up large. I’d asked mostly for pictures that included us in the snow, but there were some others too, like the ones taken at the pool and one from Cross Lake in the summer. She’d sent them along pressed in thick cardboard sleeves and I had them all framed.

  There were five by sevens of our high school senior pictures – me and Laci, Greg, Tanner and Mike – and I had those all matted and put in one frame together.

  My favorite one was of me and Greg and Greg’s little sister, Charlotte. Charlotte was buried up to her neck in the sand and Greg and I were sitting on either side of her, the surf pounding the shores of the Gulf of Mexico in the background. I also liked the one of the six of us gathered around a snowman in Greg’s front yard.

  I bought a nice adjustable desk chair and hung the leather jacket that Greg had given me over the back of it and I upgraded the speakers that the company provided with my computer so that I could listen to all my music.

  One afternoon Laci poked her head into my office.

  “I got you these,” she said, handing me some CDs.

  “What are they?” I asked, looking them over.

  “Just listen to them while you’re working and they’ll help you learn Spanish,” she explained.

  “I don’t think so,” I said, handing them back to her.

  “Why not?” she asked, looking hurt.

  “I’ve got some Spanish stuff already,” I said.

  “You do?”

  Now she looked pleasantly surprised.

  “Uh-huh,” I said, pulling out my phone and punching a few buttons. “Here’s Jaci Valesquez . . . and I’ve got Salvador in here somewhere too.”

  “That doesn’t count,” she said, putting her hand on her hip. “They’re all from Texas.”

  “They are?”

  She nodded and raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Well,” I said, “they’re Hispanic and they do Spanish stuff.”

  “And do you have any of their Spanish stuff or do you just have their English stuff?”

  She knew the answer so I didn’t respond. I just smiled at her.

  “David!” she said, waving the CDs at me. “You have to learn Spanish!”

  “Why?”

  “Because!” she said. “You’re going to live here for . . . for . . .”

  “Forever?”

  “No . . . you’re going to live here until . . .”

  “Until I die?”

  She glared at me.

  “You have to learn Spanish, David!"

  “I can’t . . .”

  “Of course you can!”

  “No, I can’t,” I argued. “I’ve already got two languages in my head . . . there’s no room for any more.”

  “You don’t have two languages in your head,” she scoffed. “You barely have one language in your head.”

  “How do you calculate the nominal shear strength of reinforced concrete-encased steel panel zones in beam-to-column connections?”

  “What?”

  “Exactly!” I said. “You don’t speak my work language, why should I have to speak yours?”

  “Because you’re LIVING here! If I had to live in your computer I’d learn your nerd language too!”

  “As if you could . . .” I laughed.

  “I could if I had to.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll find some differential equations from one of my freshman math classes, and every time you solve one of them correctly I’ll learn a new Spanish phrase. How’s that sound?”

  “You’re impossible,” she said.

  “Let me know when you want your first equation,” I replied, grinning at her.

  She sighed heavily and walked away.

  ~ ~ ~

  WE’D BEEN IN our house for about two weeks and I was sitting at my computer answering an email from a client in Los Angeles when Laci bounded into my office. It was our anniversary – we had been married for a month.

  One month.

  “I’m pregnant!” she said.

  “Yeah, right.” I replied. I didn’t even look up from my computer.

  “David!”

  “What?”

  She grabbed my shoulder and spun me around in my chair until I was facing her.

  “I’m pregnant!”

  She had about the broadest smile on her face that I had ever seen.

  “No, you’re not,” I said, shaking my head and trying to figure out if that was even possible.

  “Do you want to see the little test stick?”

  “Laci!? How could you possibly be pregnant? What’d ya do? Get pregnant on our honeymoon?”

  “Apparently!” she said, grinning.

  “I want a divorce . . .”

  “Oh, stop it!” she said, hitting me on the shoulder. She sat on my lap and gave me a big hug.

  “You’re really serious?”

  She nodded and then began to look worried.

  “You’re not mad, are you? I mean . . . you said I could have all the babies I wanted.”

  “I know, but I kind of thought we’d warm up with a puppy or something first . . .”

  “You’re not mad, are you?” she asked again. She looked even more worried.

  “I . . . I’m . . . shocked,” I admitted.

  “But you’re not mad?”

  I just stared at her.

  “David!”

  “What?”

  “Please tell me you’re not mad . . .”

  “I’m not mad,” I assured her. “I’m . . . I’m just surprised!”

  “You’re surprised?”

  I nodded at her.

  “Why are you so surprised?” she asked, a big smile returning to her face. “I thought you said I was predictable!”

  ~ ~ ~

  LACI’S FIRST DOCTOR’S
appointment was quite annoying because I could understand nothing that Dr. Santos said. Laci had to translate everything. When he put a little white wand on her stomach and I saw the heart of our baby pulsing on the monitor though, I didn’t need to be told what was going on.

  I booked seats for us to fly home four weeks before her due date and then to return to Mexico six weeks after the baby was supposed to arrive. With my laptop I’d be able to keep up with work without missing a beat and since Laci was working for free Aaron didn’t give her a hard time when she told him she was going to be gone for a couple of months.

  I checked the dates with Laci before I confirmed our reservations. The tickets were going to be pretty cheap because I was booking them almost seven months in advance.

  “You’ve only got two tickets on the return flight,” Laci said, peering over my shoulder at the computer screen.

  “Yeah . . . I figure we can take turns holding him on the way home.”

  “Him?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You need to get her her own seat,” she said.

  “Laci!” I said. “Are you crazy? Do you know how much a one-way ticket is going to be?”

  “She needs to have her own seat so she can be in a car seat.”

  “A car seat? Why on earth does he need a car seat on a plane?” I asked.

  “It’s called safety, David.”

  “There’s nothing safe about a car seat on an airplane,” I argued. “Most people who die in plane wrecks die from the fire after the wreck . . . not from the wreck itself. Think how much easier it’ll be to get him away from the burning fuselage if one of us is already holding him!”

  She glared at me.

  “Get her her own seat, David,” she said.

  “You always get your way,” I mumbled, adding another ticket to our order.

  “Of course I do,” she grinned. “We have a deal, remember?”

  “I remember,” I muttered. “And just in case I don’t, you’re never going to let me forget.”

  In the meantime, Laci became engrossed in her work. Anywhere between one to three groups would fly in from the United States or Canada every Sunday. Laci was always in charge of leading one of the groups. She would spend all afternoon training the kids: teaching them a little program of Spanish songs, helping them practice reading Spanish children’s books aloud, and telling them their routine for the week.