by Renee Dyer
Speaking of reindeer…they are huge. And hungry. We stayed at the reindeer feeding station for an hour. Okay, maybe not that long, but it was a while. Brady would have emptied my wallet if I would have let him. The belly laughs he let out every time one of the reindeer grabbed a biscuit from his hand were more than worth the money I depleted in there. Brenna found an adorable stuffed reindeer and fall jacket for Brady and when she gave me the they’re so cute, he has to have them, look, I caved.
Thank God, we don’t have a daughter.
On our way out, Brenna asked one of the workers to get a picture of all of us with the sign. Even as tired as Brady was, he managed a couple more smiles. We all said bye to Santa’s Village and made our way back to the car.
“Thank you for today, Nick. I had so much fun. I think he did, too,” Brenna says, peeking back at Brady.
“He’s sleeping, isn’t he?”
“Oh yeah, he was out as soon as you started driving.”
“He worked hard today. Needs his rest.”
“It’s hard work to go on all those rides. You must be exhausted. You sure you should be driving?” she jokes.
“Always so quick with the comebacks, Mrs. St. James. You just wait,” I warn.
“And what am I wai—”
“Stay here.”
“Nick, why are you stopping?”
“You’ll see.” I wink and hop out of the car, knowing she won’t budge with Brady in there with her.
We passed a stand of wild flowers a second ago. She was so busy giving me a hard time, she missed them. Just once, it’s going to be nice to get the jump on her. I grab a couple sunflowers and the rest, I don’t know the names of, but there are purple ones that remind me of baby’s breath and some small white and red flowers. The girl at the stand ties them together at the stems and I hand her money.
I’m feeling pretty clever as I walk to Brenna’s door. She’ll never see this coming from me. I’m never spontaneous. Romance is not in my repertoire. I have just stepped up my game. And on our anniversary. This should earn me an “aww” moment.
I knock on her window and give her a smile. Her look is pensive, making me want to laugh. I keep one hand behind my back, holding the flowers. With the other hand, I motion for her to roll down the window. She rolls her eyes, but complies.
“Can I help you with something?” she asks.
“Yeah. You can have a happy anniversary,” I answer, bringing the flowers from behind my back.
“Oh, Nick. They’re beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you.” I lean into the window and give her a kiss. It’s only a small peck, but I need to feel her lips. “If I asked you to marry me today, would you?”
“Today and every day, the answer would be yes. You’re my world, Nick.”
“Good answer. Guess you can have these now.”
She laughs as I’d intended. I hand the flowers to her and walk back around to my side. After I buckle, she leans over and kisses me.
“Happy anniversary.”
I smile and get us back on the road. We still need to make dinner and teach our boy about roasting marshmallows.
A couple miles in, I notice Brenna is sniffling quite a lot. The first sneeze breaks free a few seconds later. I try to ignore it, but a minute later, she goes for the tissues in the center console. The flowers get shifted from her lap to the floor and it appears she’s embarrassed by that because her face is glued to the lack of scenery on this stretch of road.
The sneezing picks up and she’s blowing her nose way too often for my liking. She keeps scratching at her eyes. She hasn’t said anything, but I know the flowers must be causing her to have some kind of reaction.
“Hey, Bren. You okay over there?”
“Um, yeah. How long till we get to camp?”
“About ten more minutes. You sure you’re going to make it?”
“Why would you ask that?” She glares at me, her eyes bright red. “Damn it, Brenna! What the hell is going on? Are you allergic to the flowers?”
“You know I’m allergic to flowers.”
“I didn’t know you’re allergic to all flowers. I send you flowers to the house and they never seem to bother you,” I answer, feeling like I need to defend myself.
“That’s because they aren’t right in my face,” she answers softly. “I can handle that.”
“Shit. Give ‘em to me.”
“I’ll be alright.”
“Give ‘em to me, Bren. Now!”
She grabs the flowers from her feet and hands them to me, sniffling the entire time. I place them in my lap, hating that what was supposed to be a sweet gift made her sick. As we pull onto the backroads that lead to camp, I open my window and toss them out.
“Nick!”
“What?”
“Why’d you do that?” she asks.
“They were making you sick,” I answer, even though I thought it was pretty obvious.
“But you just paid for them and they were stunning. I would have put them in a vase.”
“I’ll get you new ones at home. You couldn’t have brought them home anyway. I wouldn’t have dealt with you sniffling and sneezing for three hours.”
“But—”
“But, what? They were just flowers, Bren. You mean more to me than they do.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Crazy about you, babe.”
She shakes her head, but I can see the smirk she tries to hide from me.
It turns out, Brady does love s’mores. Figures Brenna would be right about that. That kid got marshmallow all over himself. His face. Fingers. Hair. Clothes. Me. What a damn mess. It was so worth it though to see his reaction. The first bite he took, his eyes lit up like a firefly’s ass. His head swiveled from me to Brenna, his mouth half hanging open in amazement, and he yelled, “This is awesome!”
Brenna got it on video.
I may have made him a second one while Brenna wasn’t looking and she may have kicked me in the ass when she found out. My punishment was getting him clean. That was quite the ordeal. How does a kid get marshmallow in his ears? It took a second shampooing to get it all out of his hair, and there may actually be some in there come morning, but such is the fun of camp.
He was so tired, he asked to go to bed without a book. I can’t remember that ever happening. Brenna and I tucked him and Stuffy in, gave them both kisses, and said goodnight. We made sure the nightlight was all set and let him count sheep or whatever little ones do to fall asleep.
“I’m tired. Want to help me get everything cleaned up?” Brenna asks.
“Of course. I just want to double check that the fire is out. I’ll be right back in.”
I hosed it down really well before, telling Brady you always make sure you put the fire out. He asked why and I explained that animals live in the woods. We wouldn’t want to accidentally catch their home on fire. He told me to make sure I put lots of water on it. I love being able to teach him things and have fun at the same time.
After making sure there is no chance the fire can re-stoke, I head back in to help Brenna. All the clean-up is done and she’s getting ready for bed. I look in on Brady one last time, check the locks, and take care of something that has been bothering me all night before I head for the bedroom. In the doorway to the adjoining bathroom, I watch Brenna brush her long hair. Her tiny pink tank top and black pajama bottoms don’t leave much to the imagination. It’s our anniversary. I’m so getting lucky.
She turns and sees me. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“You going to get ready for bed?”
“Yep. Are you all done in there?” I ask, wondering why we’re having this little chat. It’s awkward.
“I am. It’s all yours,” she says as she sashays by me, her hand brushing across my stomach. Twinges of want cascade through my entire body. She knows she has me by the twinkle in her eye. If I didn’t need to piss, I’d be chasing her ass down and showing her what happens when she starts playing games. Ins
tead, I close the door and cringe when her light laugh sounds out on the other side. Damn minx. We’ll see who’s laughing last.
Envisioning her nearly naked in the bed, less than twenty feet from where I stand, has me rushing through my nightly routine. I want to have fresh breath and be squeaky clean next to her, but damn, that woman calls to me. I thought my want for her would wane over the years, but my hunger only seems to increase daily. Sometimes, I wonder if it will consume me, the need almost causing a physical ache.
When I open the door, her eyes find mine. I take long strides, eager to get to her and kneel beside the bed. Before I undress, I reach into my back pocket and pull out the napkin I had folded up before coming into the bedroom. With brusqueness I don’t understand, I shove the paper toward her. Heat rips through my cheeks as she unfolds the napkin. What was meant to be a sweet gesture has me suddenly feeling inadequate.
This was a stupid idea.
“Nick.” My name falls from her lips so quietly, I barely hear it. I could almost trick myself into believing she hadn’t said it at all if I weren’t staring at her. Emotions run rampant on her face. I can’t tell if she’s happy, sad…pissed.
I should have never thrown her flowers out the window earlier.
That’s why I did this. I get that it’s stupid now. What woman wants her husband to draw her flowers—on a napkin, no less? Fucking dumb ass. They aren’t just any flowers. They’re the most monochromatic, stick figure looking flowers you’ll ever see. I don’t have a creative bone in my body. And I sure as hell don’t understand this romance shit. Why do I keep trying?
“I felt bad about throwing your other ones out the window and I thought this would be a nice way to…”
“I want to have a baby.”
“…make up for—wait, you what?” I know I didn’t just hear her correctly.
She doesn’t take her eyes from the flowers I drew, but the smile on her face is enormous.
“I want to have another baby. I know my pregnancy with Brady was terrible and I need to get a new job, which I will, but did you see his face today? Can you picture how he’d be, with a little brother? Or sister?”
“Wait. One second, please,” I beg. I just need a second to catch up with the change in conversation. She grabs my hand and tugs. When my gaze meets hers, I know I won’t deny her a thing, but it doesn’t mean we won’t talk about it. Standing from the floor, I sit on the bed beside her. “When did you decide this, Bren? Why now?”
“I didn’t just decide it, Nick. Having a baby isn’t something you just decide one day. I’ve always wanted more than one. You and I have talked about that. We didn’t want Brady to be an only child.”
“No, we didn’t, but I didn’t think another child was an option now.”
“Because of this?” she asks, pointing to her head. I nod, unable to confirm with words. A small twinge of sadness passes through her eyes, but it’s quickly replaced with determination. “I never asked if I could have more kids. Did you ask Dr. Wendell?”
“Uh, no.”
“So, this conversation is perfectly acceptable,” she replies, the twinkle I love to see, back in her hazel eyes.
“Of course it’s acceptable, but what if your condition is hereditary?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. I’d like to make an appointment with Dr. Wendell and find out if I can physically handle a pregnancy. If I can’t, then there’s no reason to go forward in talking about another child.”
“If you can?”
“Then I’d like to get all my other medical questions answered. This isn’t just about me wanting to expand our family. I need to think of the life I would give that child.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, what?” she asks.
“Make the appointment. Start with the basics and then we’ll talk some more.”
“Really?”
“Bren, there is nothing more I would love than to have another child with you. Let’s see if we can make that happen.”
“Ahh! I love you, Nick St. James!” Brenna launches into my lap, her arms latching around my neck. Kisses rain down all over my face as she professes over and over that I’m the best husband in the world.
“Want to start practicing now?”
“Ha!” She pulls back and shakes her head, a huge smirk on her face. “Somehow, I didn’t picture trying for a baby while we were at your parents’ camp. That doesn’t do it for me. Sorry.”
“Oh, come on,” I whine. “I drew you flowers and everything.”
She chuckles and lays down on her pillow. Her arms open in my direction. “Come lay with me, Nick.”
“Lay you?”
“Incorrigible ass,” she laughs.
“You love my ass,” I reply quickly.
“Yes, I do. It’s so cute and firm.”
“Ooh, tell me more. Do you want to touch it?”
“Nick,” she sighs, rolling her eyes and smiling at the same time, “lay down.”
My little head is screaming at me to keep pushing, to try for the baby making practice, but I learned a long time ago that women have all the power in these situations. Someday, he’ll grow up and understand this, too.
Chapter Twenty
Brenna
October brought a new job. I was excited to be hired as the office manager at Brunnell’s Construction. It was a change from other positions I had held, but I found I really enjoyed it. The biggest difference was working with all men. Little me, with fifteen men, all day—Monday through Friday. You’d think they’d push me around. Yeah, not so much. I may be tiny, but I learned to stand my ground a long time ago. Being the baby of five kids taught me to fight back with a fierceness I’m not sure I could have learned anywhere else.
It was hard to be away from Brady. I had only worked part-time since he was born. Two years of being with him most the time had me feeling the ache of our separation. He thrived in daycare. His favorite time of the day was preschool. Technically, he wasn’t old enough to start, but Sara saw how bright he was and included him. That didn’t last long. About a month and a half after he started she let me know he couldn’t keep doing preschool with the other kids. I got upset, but she let me know he’d still get his school time in. The problem was he was yelling out the answers before the three and four year olds could figure them out. They needed to learn to move on to Kindergarten. He still had time.
She started a special school time for him after the other kids finished preschool and before lunch. While the other children were doing their schooling, she had him coloring or working on ABC worksheets so he felt included. Nick and I were happy with that. He was being educated and getting socialized each day.
Before starting my new job, I met with Dr. Wendell, but I left his office frustrated and without any answers.
“Good morning, Brenna. How are you?”
“I’m good.” My insides twist, worry over what he’ll tell me running rampant.
“The nurse said this appointment is because you have questions about your condition.”
“Well, sorta.” I stumble over myself, not sure where to begin. “Um, Nick and I would like to have another child, but we, um…well, we don’t know if I can.”
“Are you asking if you’re physically able or if Chiari is the issue?”
“Both,” I squeak out, hating my insecurity.
“I don’t see any reason, physically, why you can’t get pregnant. You were able to before, correct?” he asks, peeking at my chart.
“Yes. I have a son,” I remind him. Hope springs, but there’s this nagging voice in my head telling me I can’t get excited until I get all my questions answered. “But we don’t know if Brady has Chiari. Is it hereditary? If I have another child, would he or she end up with this? What are the chances my child would have Chiari? I don’t want to pass this on.”
“I have to be honest with you, Brenna. At this point in the research on Chiari, half the studies show it’s hereditary and half say it’s not. I’m not comfo
rtable telling you a definitive answer on this. What I will do is reach out to colleagues who specialize in this condition and get you answers. Is that something that would work for you?”
It has to work for me. Nick and I can’t make a decision without having answers. I nod, disappointment making me mute. I wanted to have better news for Nick. The past couple weeks we’ve talked a lot about what our lives would be like with another baby around. We’ve wondered if a girl would have my hazel eyes and dirty blonde hair. Would a boy have Nick’s dark coloring, straight through to his hair and eyes? Would the child be a mix of the two of us? We’ve tried not to get excited, but it’s been impossible not to. Neither of us has said it, but we’ll be crushed if I can’t have one. We’re living in a bubble of pink and blue hope.
“How are you feeling? If you’re thinking of getting pregnant, I’m guessing okay?” He peers at me over his glasses and smiles.
I like Dr. Wendell. He has a friendly face and a calming demeanor. I don’t blame him for me getting sick. His partners, I don’t like so much. Personally, I’d like to punch them so hard they shit teeth, but that would require me exerting energy on people who aren’t worth my time.
Instead, I focus on Dr. Wendell, and respond, “I’m doing well. I still get pain in the back of my head and neck, but it’s nowhere near the level it used to be. I’m not blacking out anymore. No issues with my speech or vision.”
“How is your numbness?”
“Not bad. I have small episodes in my hands and feet, but it doesn’t travel to my arms and legs like before.”
