The Baby Race

by Tara Wylde

  In the end, it’s no use. Nick has to stifle my scream with his hand when he brings me over the edge once, then twice, with barely time to catch my breath between. He’s hardly quiet himself, collapsing on top of me with a deep and heartfelt groan.

  “Y’know,” he says, when he finally rolls off me, “the best way to tell you’ve got something special? Even the quickies are memorable.”

  “Mm....” I wriggle free of my nightie and reach for the duvet, pulling it over us both. “Could use another nap, after that.”

  “Oh, no! No, you don’t!” Nick’s up in an instant, wrestling the covers away. “I did that to get you going, not send you back into hibernation.” He grabs my nightie and starts snapping it at me like a towel. What does he think this is, a locker room? “C’mon! C’mon! Lots to do! I lied about cleaning the car!”

  “You didn’t!” Fucking jerk! I snatch the nightie back and whip his chest with it.

  “Nah, I didn’t. Car’s good to go. But we do need to shake a leg.”

  He’s right. I can’t believe he actually went through with it, but he did—that Christmas banquet we talked about at the museum, it’s really happening. And it’s happening tonight. The response was far more enthusiastic than either of us could’ve anticipated. We’re expecting hundreds of old folks and families and kids, spread across six different parties. And we’ll be putting in an appearance at every single one.

  Joey and Katie are loving it, of course: six parties means they each get to open six presents—and it’s a good thing the cops finally released his original gifts from evidence. Without those, and a couple of extras from Nick and Katie, I’d barely have had enough left for his actual Christmas.

  Not, I suppose, that Nick would’ve let that happen. He’s great with Joey. Treats him like his own.

  I pull Nick in for one last lingering kiss.

  “What was that for?”

  “Strength... We’re going to need it.”

  “For you, I’m the Incredible Hulk.” He strikes a goofy flexing pose.

  “Yeah—big, green, and angry. Just my type.” I flick him with my nightie one more time, then I’m up. The chill of the hardwood floor barely registers through my post-orgasm high. Still, I’m so sneaking a rug in here, one of these days.

  The rest of the day goes by in a pleasant whirl. It’s funny: though we planned all six parties the same, each one’s got its own character. The first one’s sweet and mellow, a lot of caroling and eggnog by the fire. The next one seems to have caught disco fever: we get sucked into an over-sixties conga line the second we walk in the door. By the time we escape, we’re breathless and giggling, high on eggnog and endorphins.

  It’s the last one that reminds me the most of our old neighborhood parties, probably because it’s getting late, and things are a little raucous. The younger kids are mostly crashed out on the various couches and beanbag chairs we brought in for the occasion. The older ones are playing with their presents, and the adults have gravitated into little knots and gaggles. The ebb and flow of animated conversation’s all around us. Every now and then, a wave of laughter sweeps the room. There’s even a couple of graybeards in the corner passing a flask back and forth, which I’m pretty sure doesn’t contain non-alcoholic eggnog. Yep. Just like the old days.

  Nick pulls me into a huge beanbag with him. “This was a great idea,” he says.

  I rest my head on his shoulder. “Can’t exactly take credit. I mean, it was going on in my neighborhood long before I was born.”

  He squeezes my hand. “Still... You’re the one who brought it here.” He smiles. “Look at them.”

  Katie and Joey are sitting under the tree with a few other kids, tossing a big red ball between them. Every time one of them gets the ball, he or she thinks for a moment, says something, and they all burst out laughing. I don’t remember that game. “Wonder what they’re playing?”

  “Think it’s that one where whoever gets the ball has to tell a secret,” he says. “Or a joke. Don’t remember.”

  Sounds about right.

  “Y’know, I had a lot of shitty Christmases growing up.” Nick crowds a little closer, snuggling against my side. “Always wanted to do something like this for the kids. But this... I love this. There’s so much for kids, but we forget about the parents, the grandparents. I mean... When you’re a kid and Christmas sucks, you still have that hope the next one’ll be perfect, or the one after that. Feels like you’ve got infinite Christmases waiting. But at the other end of the line... Can you imagine waking up on Christmas morning alone, thinking your last truly magical Christmas is behind you?”

  I don’t want to imagine that. “Let’s not let that happen to each other.”

  “Never. We’ll have... We’ll be like ninety, all cute and gray, with our kids and grandkids around our feet, and a big bushy tree with a star on top.”

  I find myself liking that thought—liking it a whole lot.

  “And I’ll still have a full head of hair, and you’ll still have legs for miles: we’ll be the hot old folks. The silver foxes.”

  I break out in helpless laughter. “You’re such a dweeb.”

  ‘Yeah, but I’m your dweeb.”

  “No refunds, no exchanges?”

  “Not a one.” His fingers twine with mine. “I’m a final sale.”

  I decide not to ruin the moment by telling him that probably means he was on the clearance rack.

  He really wasn’t.

  148

  Nick

  Christmas can best be described as happy chaos.

  We wake up to Katie pushing Joey up and down the hall on his new red bike—his feet don’t quite reach the pedals, but I guess that’s not a problem when you’ve got a friend willing to help. I’ll put the kibosh on indoor bike-riding tomorrow, but for today, they should enjoy it.

  Lina comes up behind me, still in her dressing gown. “Looks like they found the presents.”

  “Sure did.” I poke her in the ribs. “So, d’you get me anything?”

  “Don’t know—have you been a good boy?”

  I can’t keep the wicked grin off my face. “You seemed to think so last night, when I was—“

  She claps her hand over my mouth. “Sh—the kids!”

  Katie spots us, and wheels Joey in our direction. “Sorry—it was kind of obvious what this was, from the shape of the wrapping paper.”

  “You guys kept sleeping in,” adds Joey.

  “That’s all right.” I pluck a scrap of wrapping paper out of his hair. “So, you guys tear into all the gifts, or just this one?”

  “Just this one!”

  “Good.” Lina eyes Joey’s pajamas, which are flecked with what looks like strawberry jam. “You guys had breakfast?”

  Joey nods. “Just toast, like you said.”

  She’s had us eating light since yesterday, in preparation for Christmas dinner with her folks. Having been over there for a few meals already, I’m fully on board with this strategy. I swear, last time we stayed for dinner, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to fit behind the wheel to drive us home. Still, I’m looking forward to this, especially seeing how excited the kids are.

  I put on some coffee while Lina herds the kids into the living room. I can hear them messing around in there, making “tinsentacles”—that is, shuffling across the carpet in their socks to get some static going, then watching the tinsel reach out to them from the tree. We’re going to be finding tinsel around the place well into February.

  By the time I bring in the coffee, and cocoa with marshmallows for the kids, Joey’s pretty much a second Christmas tree, tinsel-festooned from head to toe. Katie’s got a few strands in her hair. I point her at a particular box under the tree. “Open that one first.”

  It’s the digital camera she’s been begging for all year. Got one for Joey too, a drop-proof, waterproof, kid-friendly model. Figure the two of them will spend all day snapping pictures, so we’ll be set for memories.

  Lina presses a long, flat box into my
hands. “Here—it’s kind of stupid, but I sort of blew most of my budget on the kids.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.” I tear off the wrapping paper, to reveal a long, narrow picture frame with three separate windows. The first has a program from the comedy club we went to on our first sort-of-date, kind of creased and dogeared, with a sticky fingerprint on it. The next has a tarot card—not the Death one, I’m glad to note—and the last one’s still empty.

  “I thought you could—we could put a picture from today in that last frame.” She looks away. “See? I told you it was dumb.”

  “No, it’s not.” I slide my arm around her waist and squeeze her tight. “How do you even have this?” I tap on the glass over the comedy club program. “That’s from the actual night! I recognize that name—that was the herpes guy. You were laughing so hard....”

  She chuckles at the memory. “I picked one up on the way out. Found it in my back pocket next time I went to do laundry.” She gives me a quick peck on the cheek. “Thought I might want to remember that day.”

  “You didn’t steal the tarot card from that fortune teller, did you? ‘Cause, I don’t know—she seemed kind of witchy. Like she might put a curse on us, or something.”

  “Nah—found a used deck at Goodwill. Picked out a card that seemed to fit us.”

  I peer at the card. It shows a woman in white petting a lion. “Strength?”

  “Yeah. The booklet that came with the deck said it represents endurance, the will to triumph over any obstacle. Seems to me we’ve come through a lot together, and....” She gestures at the kids, the tree, the brightly-decorated room. “Well, can’t argue with these kinds of results.”

  I couldn’t agree more. I reach under the tree. “Got you something too.”

  Despite the fact that I wrapped her gift like an ape, Lina manages to get the paper off in one piece. I like that about her, her neat way of doing things. Her jaw drops when she sees what’s inside.

  “A new Macbook? This is... Wow; this is really....”

  “You can’t do an entire computer science degree using the ones at the library.”

  “Hey, I like the library! It’s quiet, and it smells good.” She brushes a stray scrap of cling film off the computer. “Still, this is...so generous. And thoughtful. Thank you. I love it.”

  “Flip it open.”

  She does, and a slow smile spreads over her face, when she sees what I’ve left on the desktop. Relief washes over me—I was afraid she’d think it was too much, too soon. But I’ve been thinking it for weeks. And now she’s reading it in a Word file: Time for you and Joey to officially move in?

  Lina hugs me close and whispers in my ear. “I didn’t know how to ask if we should stay or go—I’ve been dreading having to go back there after...you know.”

  “Definitely stay,” I tell her. “Stay forever.”

  I have something else to talk to her about too, but I’m saving that for after dinner, after the kids are in bed. I’ve decided it’s time. Time to stop making huge sums of money for a handful of people; time to start changing the world in the ways I always wanted to. I think Mark would approve. By this time next month, I’ll have handed the firm over to a new CEO, and I’m hoping Lina will work with me on my new enterprise.

  We made a great team, putting together the Happy Bean Christmas parties, and I have a feeling there’s not a lot we couldn’t do if we joined forces on a more permanent basis.

  I tuck that away for later, though. For now, there’s presents to open, skating to do, and of course, Christmas dinner.

  Joey comes up to investigate Lina’s new computer, and to take a crooked, low-angle picture of us. Lina looks great, of course, but you can see straight up my nose. I tap on the preview window. “Oh yeah—nostril-cam!”

  Joey giggles. Lina lifts him up on the couch so he can get a better shot. The next one comes out pretty much perfect. Katie gets in on the action, snapping us with three different lenses. She and Joe agree that the 20mm takes the best photos, but the fisheye’s the most hilarious. I get the feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of that fisheye.

  “Okay, invasion of the paparazzi!” Lina takes Joey’s camera and flips through the pictures. “Save some space for Grandma and Grandpa, hmm?”

  “We going over there now?”

  “Nope—we’re meeting them at the park for some skating. You kids got your skates ready?”

  “Yeah, skating!” Joey runs off, hopefully to get dressed.

  “I’d better go after him, make sure he remembers to wear his Christmas sweater.” Lina finishes off the last of her coffee and unfolds herself from the couch. “I haven’t skated in years, by the way. So you’ll be in charge of keeping the kids from faceplanting.”

  I laugh. “Katie’s a budding figure skater. But I’ll hold onto Joey.”

  As it turns out, Joey’s a pretty good little skater. And padded out the way he is, in his puffy green snowsuit, the few spills he does take prove harmless. Cruising around the rink with a kid on each side of me, watching Lina slip and slide between her parents, feels about as close to heaven as it gets, this side of eternity.

  Katie circles around me and takes Joey by both hands. She skates off backwards, pulling him along with her. He laughs and shouts. Lina looks over, smiling. I snap a couple of pictures with my phone.

  I’ve always tried not to be too optimistic, not to set myself up for a fall, but picturing a lifetime of Christmases just like this doesn’t seem much of a stretch. I can see it all in my mind’s eye: Katie and Joey growing up, bringing home kids of their own, me and Lina swelling with pride. It all feels quite real, easily within reach.

  For once in my life, I’m going to relax and enjoy.

  149

  Epilogue (Elina)

  “Wouldn’t it suck if the varnish wasn’t quite as dry as we thought?” Nick asks. “If, when we went to get up, we realized we were hopelessly stuck to the floor? Like two mice in a glue trap?”

  “I don’t know.” I fumble for his hand. The backs of our fingers brush. “It’s pretty nice here. And I’m not sure I’ll be able to move any time soon, anyway.”

  We’re sprawled out across two fat sunbeams in the middle of the brand new crafts cabin, with its high rafters, floor-to-ceiling windows, and freshly-varnished floor. Not sure I’ve ever seen a floor this perfect, so shiny you could do your makeup in it. In a couple of days, the first group of kids’ll be here, scuffing it up, slopping puffy paint and Elmer’s Glue all over it. But for now, it’s just us, soaking up the last of the late afternoon rays. And reveling in our accomplishment.

  I wasn’t sure about this idea at first. But watching the site of my kidnapping ordeal transform into a summer paradise for kids and families has been surprisingly satisfying. Especially with me and Nick pitching in so much. Taking control of this place kept me sane through those long, nail-biting months, waiting for the outcome of Joe’s trial.

  It was hard the first few times, coming out here, seeing the cabin where he held me prisoner, the rusted-out trailer across the way, but all that’s gone now. It hasn’t looked like the same place for months. Feels like I ripped the site of my worst memories out of the world, and replaced it with somewhere great. Somewhere a whole new set of visitors can make their best memories.

  I slip my hand into Nick’s. “I hate to say this, but there’s a part of me that’s not sure how to feel, knowing he’ll never, ever see this place, never know what we did with it.”

  He strokes my palm with his thumb. “Just a tiny part of you wants to rub it in his face?”

  “Is that so wrong?”

  “Nope.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

  The floor we’re lying on is maybe twenty feet from where Joe and Nick had the fight that bumped up his charge to kidnapping in the first degree. The state argued he’d used my captivity to terrorize Nick, and had planned to take advantage of the commotion to abduct his own son. Add two assault charges, plus trespassing and grand theft auto—turns out that wasn’t ev
en his car—and the judge threw the book at him. Forty-five years. He’ll probably be out in twenty, but it’s good. Really good.

  I let out a long sigh. “Would you believe a few of my old friends actually reached out to me?”

  “Mm?” Nick turns his head to look at me.

  “Yeah. That woman from the bike club—the one who kinda led the charge against me—then two of my old co-workers, and my best friend from college.”

  “What’d they have to say?”

  “Sorry, mostly. For not seeing me as his victim too.”

  “Must feel good.”

  “Mm....“ In truth, it surprised me how little I cared. There was a time when just one person taking my side would’ve meant the world, but now... It’s already behind me. And I won. I’m not even mad any more. I can look at those people and smile, forgive without hesitation. “What do they say? All’s well that ends well—no skin off my nose.”

  Nick finally peels himself off the floor. “And an excellent nose it is too.” He boops my snoot with his index finger. “Beep!”

  “Oh, not you too!” Joey’s been running around beeping everyone’s nose. His friend Emin had a birthday clown a couple of weeks ago, and his act seems to have started a nose-honking trend. Normally harmless, but some of those pinches and pokes have been enthusiastic! And I’ve had more than one unfortunate finger/nostril situation.

  “C’mon.” Nick holds out his hand. “Let’s do one more sunset tour before the insanity hits.”

  I let him pull me to my feet. Honestly, our twilight walks have been my favorite part of the construction process. Feels like this is where we really got to know each other, after the initial whirlwind. Hand in hand, we broke in the new hiking trails, watched the seasons change, inspected the cabins that sprang up like a mushroom circle around the newly-expanded clearing. We even stole the first skinnydip in the new pool last night. It’d just been filled for the first time: not a Band-Aid, maple key, nor dead bug in sight.