by M. E. Carter
“No one ever said my husband wasn’t strange. He’s a good man, but he definitely keeps me on my toes.”
I watch as she reads her recipe and continues adding ingredients to the bowl. I’m not a very good cook, but I enjoy watching her do so many things at once. Rice, eggs, now… whatever this is. I’m impressed.
“Why don’t you go take a nap,” she says suddenly, and I realize I must look as wiped as I feel. My head is back down on my arms and I’m just blankly staring as she works.
“I should,” I say through a deep sigh. “But I don’t know if I have enough energy to climb off this stool. Did you feel like this when you had Rowen?”
She smirks at me. “No. I was one of those annoying women who felt fantastic the whole time I was pregnant. I loved it. The last two weeks were hard, but nothing like you’re going through.”
“Would it be wrong of me to say I hate you for that?”
Denise laughs lightly but doesn’t look up. “You wouldn’t be the first. I know how lucky I was. Plus, we were close to Ryan’s family, so we had lots of support. I don’t think I realized how good I had it. I recognize it now.”
“I wanna be happy about being pregnant, but all the vomitting makes it hard.”
“I know. And it’s okay to not be happy right now. It doesn’t mean you don’t want this baby or you have regrets. It just means things are hard right now. But it’ll get better.”
Shifting so my chin is sitting on my arms, I ask the question that’s been on my mind since I found out they were moving here. “What are your plans when you guys get here? As far as the baby goes.” I wince. “That didn’t come out right. I mean, I don’t want to assume anything but I’m already trying to make plans and well, I’m not sure what you are hoping for.”
“As far as babysitting goes?”
I nod, thankful she’s so nonchalant.
“I have grandiose ideas in my mind about how much time I’ll spend with my grandbaby.”
I school my features because that sounds overwhelming. I must not do a very good job, though, because she laughs and pats my arm.
“But I know you have a life and family of your own, and we don’t want to be any sort of imposition. Well, I can’t guarantee Ryan won’t show up on your doorstep unannounced one too many times, but Rowen can deal with him.”
I groan because she’s right. I could very easily imagine Ryan showing up every day to see his grandchild.
“Really, it’s up to you, Tiffany. I’m ready to babysit five days a week if it’ll help you out. But if you want to put the baby in daycare and just use us for date night, that’s okay too.”
Sitting up, I decide I need to level with her. And probably with myself too.
“I don’t want to put him into daycare. It’s fine and all, but for me—I don’t know. It just isn’t what I want.” She nods in understanding. “But I’m not really, I guess I’m not used to family pitching in that much.” Covering my face, I mumble, “That sounds really bad.”
“Oh no, sweetie. I totally understand where you’re coming from.”
Peeking through my fingers, I say, “You do?”
“Oh yeah. I wasn’t close to my parents growing up.”
“Wait. I thought your whole family was in Detroit, and you guys were really tight.”
“We are now. But that didn’t happen until after we moved back to the States. I think being in Europe for as long as I was, my parents made more of an effort when we got back. Or maybe they were just older and wiser. I don’t really know. But at your age, nope. We weren’t not close. It just wasn’t like Ryan’s family.”
She looks up and laughs, probably at a memory of the Flanigan clan.
“You think Ryan is a lot to handle? The rest of them were overwhelming when I first met them. No boundaries whatsoever. Everyone was in everyone’s business all the time. And there were so many of them. It took some time to get used to having people to count on in a crisis. And not just a couple. It was like a whole tribe. I don’t think I bought Rowen one single thing until he was three.” She smiles at the memory. “So yes. I know exactly where you’re coming from. But Tiffany, I’m not here to hover or be a helicopter grandma. I’m here to be your tribe. You have goals and dreams.”
“I feel like I’m stuck in this weird place where I have to decide what is the most important—baby or career.”
She shrugs. “If things were different, you might have to. But you don’t. All you have to decide is if you want part-time daycare in the afternoon, or part-time grandma.”
When she puts it that way, it really is that simple. I have my regular two days off, and Rowen has a day off when I work, which means it’s only four days. Plus, with the way our schedules overlap, it’s only until Rowen gets out of practice. Sometimes, that’ll only be a couple of hours.
“You don’t have to decide now. It’s just something to keep in the back of your brain until he’s born.”
I nod as my thoughts continue to swirl. Not everyone is in a position where they can have it all, but I might be the exception to the rule. I continue to ponder all of this, when suddenly I catch the smell of a sweet aroma. I’m not sure what it is, but I’m guessing it’s something on the stove.
“What are you making anyway?” I ask. “One of Ryan’s favorite dinners?”
She looks up at me again as she grabs more ingredients off the counter. “Oh no, honey. I’m loading you up on food.”
I furrow my brows, having no ideas what she’s talking about. “What? Why?”
“Well, ginger rice is good for nausea. Hard boiled eggs supposedly are too. I’m not convinced, but you need the protein anyway. This way you can chop one up real quick with this little device I got you.” She rifles around in a plastic sack for a second and pulls out a box with what looks like a vegetable chopper in it. “Here. It’ll make the egg really small, so you don’t have to chew much. Maybe that will trick your brain and help you stomach it.”
I shake my head. “Wait, stop. I’m confused. You’re making me pregnancy food?”
“Of course, I am.” God love her, she looks genuinely shocked that I would question the whys of this whole scenario. “Honey, you are my daughter-in-law, and you are carrying my grandchild. This is the least I can do to help you out. I wish I could do more.”
“Denise, you don’t have to do this.”
“I don’t have to, but I want to. What did we just talk about? We love you and want to support you. When Rowen is home, he can do this. But he’s on the road right now and won’t be back until we’re gone. This just takes one thing off your plate, so you can rest more.”
“Well, thank you.”
“Really, it’s my pleasure. I like cooking. I’m also going to make you some chicken noodle soup. I’ll freeze some of it for later. But if you’re feeling well enough, it’ll have lots of protein. If you feel terrible, just sip on the broth.” She picks up a whisk and begins mixing some sort of dough. “And these are going to be gingersnaps. I don’t know if you have a sweet tooth, but they still might work better than just plain crackers. At least they’ll be tastier.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but just the smells may have brought some of my appetite back.”
Denise looks genuinely pleased with this assessment. “Good. In about ten minutes, it’ll be ready for you.”
She wasn’t kidding when she said she was creating a tribe around us. And it comes with food I can stomach. I’ll call that a win all the way around.
Losing in San Jose is not something any of us anticipated. They’re a strong team, but we’re stronger. Or at least we thought we were. That is, until Santos didn’t show up for our trip.
No one knows where he went. Last I saw him, we were talking in the locker room about nausea and hormones. Then suddenly, he disappeared.
When someone finally asked Coach about it during warm-ups, all he said was, “He’s not here but you are. Do your job and focus on the task at hand!”
We all shut up and went
through the motions of warm-ups. And then it all fell apart.
Logan has proven himself to be a great back-up goalie, but he wasn’t prepared to jump in at the last second because of an injury to our second stringer. That was his own damn fault. It’s not like we don’t train enough. But the last minute change got into Logan’s head, and he couldn’t keep the ball out of the net.
That’s how the ricochet effect began. I couldn’t seem to block for shit. Daniel kept kicking too wide. The stress of the change, and probably more so the curiosity about what was wrong with Santos, just killed our stride. Even Luca Montoya, who is usually one of our more reserved players, pulled a yellow card and had to rein in his defense so he didn’t get tossed out.
It was brutal.
So while the Earthquake fans are celebrating loudly in the stands, the Texas Mutiny is walking off the field, with our tails tucked firmly between our legs. Not just in shame, but possibly in anticipation of our asses being handed to us by Coach once we hit the locker room.
“Dude. Where the fuck is Santos?” Christian bellows, arms thrown up in exasperation as Daniel and I meet him in the middle of the field. No one else is sticking around, content to put this behind them as quickly as possible.
“He quit.”
Christian and I freeze, stunned by Daniel’s admission.
“Wait.” We jog to catch up to our captain, trying to decide if he’s telling us the truth or not. Because that is random. “What do you mean he quit?” Christian asks, which means I don’t have to.
Daniel stops and turns to face us, not wanting to get anyone else’s attention. Coach will tell us when he’s good and ready, but obviously Daniel isn’t thrilled about sitting on this knowledge.
“Just what I said. Went into Coach’s office after practice yesterday and told him he was done, effectively immediately.”
“Holy shit.”
“Is he okay?” My mind immediately goes to worst-case scenario. Santos loves his job. There’s no way he just snapped. “Nothing happened to one of his kids, did it?”
Daniel shakes his head and wipes his brow with his sleeve. “Not as far as I know. Apparently, he had some sort of come-to-Jesus moment and needed to change his life. I didn’t ask any details. I just know Coach is still trying to convince him to change his mind, which is why he hasn’t announced anything yet. That means you two better keep your mouths shut.”
I nod my agreement, but Christian is clearly too pissed off to care. “That’s a dick move. The season already started. We can’t get Logan up to par that fast. Obviously.” He gestures to the field around us, reminding us once again of how terrible we played.
Daniel immediately goes back into captain mode. “Dick move or not, we have a job to do and today we didn’t do it. None of us did.”
Christian rolls his eyes and they keep half-arguing, half-discussing why the hell Santos left so suddenly. But the more they talk about it, the more I realized I’m not really that surprised. I was there when he and Tiffany were talking at the Funderling’s going-away party. Maybe he finally decided it was time to man up and put someone else besides himself first.
Lifting the hem of my jersey to wipe my forehead, I admit, “Maybe I’m not as surprised as I should be.”
My two best teammates look at me expectantly, so I continue.
“He’s never been the same since his divorce. And I get it. I love soccer. Playing is like breathing. It’s under my skin, ya know?” They both nod in understanding. “But if Tiffany gave me an ultimatum”—I shrug and put my hands on my hips—“I don’t know. If the choice was soccer or them, I’d have to pick my family.”
Daniel seems to understand where I’m coming from. “You’re probably right. I’d probably do the same thing if I had to choose between Quincy and the game.”
Christian holds his hand up to halt the conversation. “Wait. Back up. Did you just say them, Rookie?”
My eyes widen slightly at the realization I screwed up, but I pull it together quickly. I think. “You know I’m not a rookie anymore, right?” I say, trying to distract him.
“We’ll talk about that later. And stop trying to change the subject. You just said them.”
I know I should be going into denial mode. Tiffany and I agreed not to tell anyone yet. But considering how hot my face feels, I’m sure I’m blushing, which they know is a dead giveaway.
“Rowen?” Daniel states more than asks as the two of them invade my personal space. I look around to make sure no one is listening in. “Did you knock up your wife?”
Christian chuckles while I shove Daniel playfully. “Shut up, man. That’s crude.”
“But it’s true?”
I try not to grin, but it’s useless. Screw it. My lips quirk up in a half smile and I answer quietly. “Yeah.”
“Hey!” they both yell and start patting me on the back and grabbing me around the neck. I’m sure if anyone is noticing our interaction, they’d be wondering why we’re suddenly celebrating after being slaughtered moments ago. But I don’t care. They’re excited for me. For us.
“You sure didn’t take long, did ya, Rookie?” Christian jabs as he squeezes my shoulder.
“Still not a rookie, Sanchez.”
He looks up and taps his finger to his lips, like he’s thinking about an alternative. Oh geez. Here we go.
“How about I call you Red?”
I furrow my brow and shake my head.
“Beanie?”
Shoving him away while he laughs, I ask, “How about just Rowen?”
“Nah,” Daniel tosses out. “I’m gonna start calling you Baby Daddy.”
Christian laughs and puts me in a headlock again, his go-to move whenever he’s really excited. After a few seconds, though, the real inquisition begins.
“Seriously, though,” Daniel asks as we cross the field, “when is the bambino getting here?”
“Due date is August sixteenth,” I say with pride. It feels good to finally be talking about this with my friends. I’ve only kept it a secret for a few weeks, but this is the most exciting thing to happen to me, well, ever.
“Is Tiffany happy?”
I have to think about how to answer that one for a second. I’m not really sure. Not because I think there’s anything wrong with her emotional well-being or anything. Just because it was such a complete surprise.
“I wouldn’t say she’s happy. She’s too busy throwing up. All the time. Hard to feel anything but frustration, I think.”
They both grimace, which they deserve. She gets sick often enough, I’m past the grossed-out stage.
But in true Daniel fashion, he has to toss out some suggestions. “Has she tried plain crackers and ginger ale?”
“Yeah. She can’t hold it down.”
“What about ginger candy? You can get it at all those maternity clothes stores.”
Christian confused look makes me laugh when I answer.
“Yep. She hates them. They gross her out.”
“Sniffing a lemon?”
“Helps. But not much.”
He throws his hands up. “Well, I’m out of ideas.”
“Dude, how the fuck did you have so many to begin with?” Christian asks, truly stumped by all Daniel’s random knowledge.
Daniel returns the look with one of his own. Only his says duh. “Did you forget how many sisters I have?”
“Ah,” Christian and I respond in unison.
Putting my hand out, I stop us from getting any closer to our teammates. “Guys, really. Please keep this under wraps. Tiffany is still kind of skittish about unnecessary attention, and I want this to be as stress free as possible for her.”
“Say no more,” Christian responds, holding his hand up while Daniel pretends to zip his lips closed. “Your secret is safe with us.”
Call me paranoid, but somehow, I doubt that.
I KNEW YOU WERE PREGNANT!
Quincy’s text comes in shouty capitals, making me roll my eyes at her excitement. My response will probably
make her roll her eyes right back at me, only it’ll be in exasperation.
Me: I swear to God those guys gossip more than a bunch of old ladies at church!
Quincy: Oh, come on. Did you really expect Rowen to keep it from them for long?
She has a point. He’s been way more excited than I ever anticipated. He even cried when my blood tests came back and the doctor told us it’s a boy.
I’ve never seen Rowen get teary-eyed over anything, but the thought of being a father has him a blubbering mess. It’s actually really sexy.
Me: Touché. Just keep in under wraps for now. I don’t want my job to know yet. You know how sticky it can be.
Quincy: Yep. It wasn’t that long ago I was trying to sort it all out with Chance. My lips are sealed. Wait… I’ll seal them after this: CONGRATULATIONS!!!!
Tucking my cell into my back pocket, I pull open the door into the newsroom. Like usual, Caleb is alone at the assignments desk, most everyone else is out in the field. Also, like usual, I feel like shit.
“Hey Tiffany,” he greets without looking up from his monitor.
“Hey.” I grab my mail out of my box, preparing myself to climb the stairs to the sports office. I really need to sit down after walking from the parking lot.
Just as I turn to make the trek, Caleb calls out.
“Hey, Tiff, when you get a chance, can I talk to you for a second?”
“Sure. Does it have to be now? I really need to get started on tonight’s show.” And I really need to sit down, but I don’t say that part. Not that I need to. A quizzical look crosses his face.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.”
Cocking his head, I have a feeling he doesn’t believe me. “You haven’t been yourself since that stomach bug ran through the office. Maybe you need to go see your doctor or something.”
I want to laugh because I’ve seen my doctor a couple times already. Sweet Caleb hasn’t put two-and-two together. I’m surprised, and yet not all that shocked. I guess if you’ve never dealt with a pregnancy before, the symptoms aren’t glaringly obvious.
