by J. Bengtsson
His mouth slightly askew, Jake just stood there with his hands on the waistband of his jeans, which had impressively been worked halfway down his thighs. Steeped in disbelief, he asked, “What the fuck is happening right now?”
Feeling nothing but overwhelming affection for this man who would stop at nothing to put a smile on my face, or a baby in my arms, I reached out and lightly tapped his naked chest. “Nothing. Put your clothes back on, dork. We’re not having sex. You have a concert in forty-five minutes. Our baby can wait three more hours.”
2
Casey: That Face
Eight Months Earlier
I leaned against Jake, struggling to keep my droopy lids open. By the way he tilted his head against mine, weighing me down like a heavy blanket, it was clear his exhaustion mirrored my own. Although the evening was still young, the early hour belied the work we’d put into the day. An endless parade of activities and chores had kept us moving non-stop in preparation of the event we’d both been waiting for since Jake had dropped to one knee and proposed a little over a year ago. And now, snuggled in a worn loveseat in my parents’ hotel room, we were ticking off the last hours of our single lives. By tomorrow at this time, we’d be wed.
Giddy didn’t even come close to describing how I was feeling about my pending nuptials. The animated racing of my heart kept me in a perpetual state of euphoria. I’d even been caught, on multiple occasions today, humming a happy tune. And you know what? I didn’t care who heard me. The fact of the matter was, in the arena of love, I’d scored. As a young girl dreaming up my fantasy guy, I couldn’t have conjured a more perfect mate for myself. Jake was my heart and soul. Ours was the type of love that could, and would, last the trials of a lifetime together.
The dreamy smile returned to my face, pushing aside the fatigue. I only had a few more minutes with Jake before his brothers figured out where he was hiding and dragged him off kicking and screaming to the bachelor party he adamantly professed he didn’t want. And once that happened, our next meeting would be at the church, as I walked down the aisle into his waiting arms.
My heart began thumping faster as a happy song spontaneously sprang to my lips. But before the melody could take flight, I caught sight of a disturbing reflection in the mirror. Not my reflection, mind you. As previously stated, mine was Disney princess perfect. But Jake’s? What the hell? Let’s just say his expression conveyed less ‘You complete me’ and more ‘I just swallowed a bottle of Drano.’
I blinked back my surprise. When had that face started? The downward turn of his lips was in stark contrast to the day we’d spent together. Jake had been dialed in from the beginning, gamely keeping pace with me as he posed for pictures with all of my relatives, most of whom he hadn’t met until today. He’d been nothing but charming and gracious. So where was that grimace coming from? Had Jake just been acting the doting fiancé for my family? God knows, he was an expert at playing to the crowd. Being congenial was part of his job; yet even outside of it, in his everyday life, Jake had an uncanny ability to turn it on and off at a moment’s notice; and now, it appeared, he’d been twisting the faucet when he thought I wasn’t looking. Suddenly, I had a bad feeling about tomorrow. Was he second-guessing us? Would he back out at the last minute? No. I knew Jake. He’d never do such a heartless thing to me. So then why the hell did he appear to be fighting back the gag reflex?
Thinking back on the past few months, it occurred to me that I’d seen this same ‘clogged drain’ look on his face before, but it hadn’t seemed as significant back then as it did now… mere hours before exchanging our vows. He should be feeling ecstatic, like me, not mentally preparing himself for a stomach pumping. What were the chances that his anxiety-ridden face was just a result of everyday, run-of-the-mill, pre-wedding jitters?
I mean, please, there couldn’t have been a less stressed groom. Jake had hired a top wedding planner, Boris, and handed the reins over to him. Because of the secret nature of the nuptials, Boris, who had quickly become my very best friend in the entire universe, named the wedding Operation Pretzel. Get it? Tying the knot? I know it might sound totally cheesy, but Boris and I found it wildly funny at the time. We’d laughed and laughed and had even come up with a pretzel-shaped hand signal.
As for Jake, he seemed thrilled to have pawned me off on Boris. With my new bestie in the picture, it gave Jake the excuse to take a totally hands-off approach to all things wedding-related. He’d even gone so far as comparing himself to a backup singer, saying he was happy to just harmonize in the background as Boris and I took the lead. We all knew it was a cop-out, but who was I to argue? I’d been handed a blank check and full rights to the wedding of my dreams. I mean, as long as the groom showed up with a smile on his face on the day, what did I care if he partook in the planning stages or not?
Besides, just between us, Jake’s ideas were basically crap. Don’t get me wrong – he was a brilliant musician and an amazing man – but he was sorely lacking in the area of personal taste… except, of course, when it came to his choice in brides. If it were up to him, the wedding guests would be dining on hotdogs from 7-Eleven while sucking down their own personal 44 ounce Slurpees. Just to give you an example of what we were dealing with, when Boris sought out Jake’s opinion on his preferred cake flavor, my fiancé replied, ‘Funfetti.’
Sure, I hadn’t needed his opinion during the planning stages, but perhaps I should have at least paid better attention to his moods. Maybe then this change in his demeanor wouldn’t have come as such a shock to me.
Perhaps sensing me analyzing him, Jake instantly turned the frown around and his eyes softened as they connected with mine in the mirror. In response to my questioning look, he dipped his head and gently brushed his lips against my forehead.
“You okay?” I asked, loud enough only for him to hear.
“Yeah, sorry. I was just zoning out.”
I didn’t believe him. Not for a second. This was Jake we were talking about, and if he were feeling anxious, there was a whole array of issues it could be.
“Are you sure? Do you want to go somewhere and talk?”
His hand felt for mine and upon first contact, our fingers entwined like a braided knot. He squeezed. “I’m fine, Case.”
I looked away from the mirror, but now I was the one frowning. Something didn’t feel quite right; but what was I going to do, accuse him of having second thoughts about marrying me? If he truly was just zoning out, then I’d be putting thoughts into his head. But what if he wasn’t? What if he had changed his mind? Oh, god. He was going to leave me at the altar, wasn’t he?
“Casey?”
I’d surely turned several shades of gray in the time it took to totally overreact.
“You all right?” Jake questioned.
No doubt my expression now matched his from moments earlier.
“Uh-huh. Yeah. Sure.”
Breathe, psycho. Jake would never leave you high and dry like that. Would he? I checked the digital clock on the phone in my parents’ hotel room. 8:53 pm. Fourteen hours. Jake just needed to hang in there for fourteen more freakin’ hours. Then he could wig out all he wanted because we’d be married and there’d be nothing he could do about it. That’s the spirit, Casey!
“Not that I don’t love your stimulating company, but when can I expect to get my sofa back?” My mother’s question thankfully silenced the irrational voice in my head. “I want to watch a little TV before bed.”
“I’m still hiding from Keith,” Jake answered.
“Well, could you do it in the hallway?” Her flippant question was followed by a sly smile, and Jake ran with it.
“I could, Linda, but that would sort of defeat the purpose of hiding, now, wouldn’t it?”
They exchanged conspiratorial smiles. He no longer received the special treatment from my mother. That had disappeared along with the gushing and cooing. Jake was now just a part of the family, and he and my mother had developed a very comfortable camaraderie.
�
�Mom,” I said, feeling the need to defend my fiancé, “what happens if you throw him out and then he gets attacked by the strippers Keith hired for the bachelor party? How are you going to feel then? Use your brain.”
“Fine,” she said, sighing loudly. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll provide him with a handful of dollar bills before kicking him to the curb.”
A familiar rhythmic knock rapped on the door. It could be no other than my brother Luke.
“Oh, great, more company.” Mom groaned, then winked and let him in.
Luke’s eyes immediately settled on Jake. “Seriously, dude? You’re such a wuss.”
“If you rat me out to Keith,” Jake replied. “You no longer get backstage access to my concerts, and there goes your love life.”
“Okay, first, you underestimate me; and second, you give me way too much credit,” Luke said, totally contradicting himself. “Keith already figured you’d be hiding in here. Man up! You’re living on borrowed time, bro. And as far as my love life goes, I haven’t been able to close even one deal at your concerts, so that’s an empty threat to me.”
Jake sat up, an expression of disbelief on his face. “If you can’t get laid at a rock concert, you’re beyond any help I can give you.”
“I agree with Jake on this,” Mom said, her eyes twinkling in amusement. There was nothing she liked more than to wedge herself into discussions about her children’s love lives. “There’s really no excuse.”
“Mom. Please,” Luke said, struggling to ignore her completely before continuing his conversation with Jake. “If you had more variety backstage, maybe I’d have a chance.”
“Are you suggesting it’s my fault you can’t score?”
“In a roundabout way, yeah, I am. You set me up to fail from the get go. It’s not like I’m going to have a chance with the type of ladies who get backstage at your concerts. They’re all rock solid tens. I need some females who are marginally flawed to have even the slightest chance.”
“Sooo… you want me to ask security to look for eights, is that what you’re saying?”
Luke considered the question, even going so far as to tap a finger to his chin. “I think that’s still too high a number. Let’s shoot for fives to sevens.”
“Okay, sure. Any other requests I can pass along?”
“Well, since you’re asking, I do like brunettes… or wait… even darker. Yeah, I like the silky black hair color. But, then again, I have a thing for blondes too. And red-haired women… ooh, yes indeed. You know what they say about redheads, right?”
“I’m not sure I do.”
“They’re blondes from hell.”
Jake reacted by wincing. “I wouldn’t lead with that line.”
“Of course not. Anyway, I’ll tell you what, man, just surprise me. I’ll take whatever, as long as they’re, you know…”
“…not too hot.” Jake finished his sentence.
“Exactly.” Luke gave him a thumbs up before settling his gaze on me, seemingly surprised I was in the room at all.
“Well, hey there, Spacey Casey.”
“Hello yourself, Pukey Lukey.”
“Alrighty,” Mom said, clapping her hands to get our attention. “Now that everyone’s reacquainted… and knows what to look for in a soul mate for Luke… what do you say we wrap this thing up? And by that, I mean, this sanctuary city is closing down, so please leave immediately.”
“Wow, Mom. What’s your hurry? Your only daughter is getting married tomorrow. You should be thankful I want to spend my last moments of freedom with you and Dad.”
“Wait, Dad’s here?” Luke asked, looking around. “I thought he’d already gone down to the bachelor party.”
“He’s not going. Jake gave him a pass, so he’s spending his free time on the toilet.”
“Still?” my brother asked, with a tilt of his eyebrow. “He was in there when I stopped by earlier.”
“Not still. Again.” Mom answered, unfazed. “He’s in and out of the crapper all day. Old guys poop a lot.”
“I’m not pooping,” Dad’s frustrated voice called from the bathroom. “I’m reading. It’s the only place I can go where I get a little peace and quiet from your mother.”
“He says it like it bothers me.” She directed her comment toward us from behind her hand. “I only wish he’d stay in there longer, but unfortunately his legs fall asleep at about the twenty-minute mark.”
We all snickered at her comment.
“Such an amateur,” Luke commented, shaking his head. “I can make it at least thirty before the tingling sets in. And Mom, I know you’re itching to boot us from the nest, but can you at least grant us a five-minute reprieve? If Miles is coming, he’ll be here by nine.”
“If? Why wouldn’t he be coming?” Jake asked. “He was all excited earlier.”
“Yes, but that was before he got in trouble, and now he’s trying to talk Darcy into letting him come.”
Miles was our oldest brother and had been married for nearly twelve years to his high school girlfriend, Darcy. Together they had two children, Sydney and Riley.
“See, this is the part of wedded bliss that I don’t get,” Jake said, the slightest hint of a whine lifting the words. “Why does Darcy get to decide if he goes out or not? That’s bullshit. I’m just letting you know now, Casey, you’re not going to be the boss of me.”
Mom and I exchanged amused eyebrow arches, as my father laughed hysterically from behind the locked bathroom door.
“Good luck with that, Jake,” his hollowed voice called out. “Perhaps you’re unfamiliar with that old adage – the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree?”
“No, I’ve heard it,” Jake answered, loud enough for him to hear.
“Uh-huh, well, Casey didn’t even hit the ground. Good luck, my man.”
Palming my man’s face and drawing him toward me, I said, “Don’t listen to my dad, sweetie. As long as everything is exactly the way I want it, I’m totally flexible.”
Mom snorted out her approval and stepped over Jake’s outstretched legs to give me a high five.
“You disappoint me, Linda,” Jake said, shaking his head. “There was a time I was your favorite person.”
“That was when you were all fresh and new, like a shiny penny,” Mom mused. “Now you’re like one of those corroded coins from the 70’s. You still have value, but you’re not going in the coin collection anytime soon, you know what I mean?”
Jake gaped at her a moment before dipping his head into his hands. “Oh, god, Casey is exactly you!”
“What did I tell you?” Dad yelled from his throne.
“It’s better you found out now.” Mom patted him sympathetically. “So you said 9:00 pm, right?”
“Yes, Mom. What’s your hurry?”
“If you must know, I need to put on a mud mask so my skin looks revitalized in the morning.”
“In that case, you might not want to rinse it off,” Dad chuckled, continuing to butt into the conversation from afar.
Mom didn’t even blink an eye at his insult. Instead she asked Luke, “How did Miles get in trouble?”
“Well, somehow Riley got his arm stuck in the vending machine down the hall.”
“The candy or the soda machine?” she asked.
“Does it really matter?”
“Not really, but I was kind of thirsty. If he’s stuck in the soda machine, that puts a damper on my plans.”
“Lucky for all of us, it was the candy machine.” Luke pulled out a bag of M&M’s from his pocket. “Miles greased up his arm, and on its way out, Riley managed to grab four bags of these babies. Cool, huh?”
Jake nodded in agreement, and Luke poured some into his open palm. Only those two would find my nephew’s descent into a life of petty crime a positive thing.
“Anyway, the candy heist happened on Miles’s watch, while Darcy was showering, and now she’s pissed.”
“Understandably,” Mom agreed.
“Yeah, well, anyway, he�
��s trying to escape now, but I don’t know if it will be possible. I mean those kids are…”
“Wild?” she said, interrupting Luke.
“No, evil. I was going to say evil.”
“Luke. They’re children. Be nice.”
“Me? Riley keeps repeating everything I say and not in a friendly way. He’s making me feel insecure. And Syd, she’s got the makings of a true sociopath. First she crawled under the bed and tied my laces together, then when I went down flat on my back, she tried to smother me with a pillow.”
“I’m sure Sydney wasn’t trying to actually smother you,” our mother said, attempting to explain away the behavior of her adored granddaughter.
“Oh, I’m, pretty sure she was. She had a back-up pillow and everything. Anyway, Spacey Casey, my advice to you would be to keep your corroded penny as far away from our little niece and nephew as possible; that is, if you ever desire to have children of your own.”
“Speaking of that,” Mom said, drawing the words out longer than need be as she scanned Luke with her eyes, “when can I be expecting some from you?”
“Children?!” he asked, as if it were the stupidest thing she’d said all year.
“Yes. What did you think I meant?”
“Well, I don’t know. Were you not listening to the earlier conversation I was having with Jake about my lady problems?”
“Oh, I thought it was just a problem at his concerts.”
“No, no. It’s a problem pretty much across the board. Here’s the thing, Mom,” Luke settled in for a teaching moment. “And, believe me, I do understand it’s been a while for you, but having kids requires the organs of both sexes, and since mine hasn’t seen anything but the inside of a white tube sock for some time now, the closest I’m going to get to making your dream come true is a pair of baby booties.”
