fic: a life without regret 39/?
Author: Gracie
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: No, I don't own it, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. Alias and all the characters belong to Touchstone, ABC and the talented JJ. Abrams.
Timeline: To fit in with future storylines, I have changed the time of when SD-6 was brought down. Sydney is now four months pregnant and this fic begins in early November.
Summary: Sequel to No Regrets. Trying to make normal.
Chapter 39
Vaughn POV
April 12th 2004 - 12.36pm
My dearest Sydney,
I know I haven’t been here for a while; neither of us have been actually. I suppose we’ve both been pretty busy getting everything together for the baby that we’ve seemed to have forgotten about this. I was rifling through my briefcase just a minute ago and I saw this hidden in the bottom surrounded my loads of crap I’m sure I don’t need (PS, next time I’m doing nothing, please remind me that my briefcase needs cleaning out).
I’m sitting at my desk right now trying to complete another mind numbing report. Eric and Will are across from me and I know they’re updating one another on one of the bets that are going around this place regarding you and me. Honestly, with the rumor mill that is going around here lately, I don’t know how any one gets anything done.
I left you sleeping this morning, I didn’t have the heart to wake you up after knowing how long it took you to eventually fall asleep last night. I’d give you anything if it meant this pregnancy would go easy on you. We only have one more week to go; I know it’s going to be the longest and hardest week of our lives, more so of course, for you. I’m sure I will be a total and complete mess when you’re in labor. I don’t even want to think about it.
I don’t think I’ve thanked you enough lately. After my crisis of conscious last week I’ve felt pretty cut up inside. I know I shouldn’t be, after all, you’re my wife now and honestly, I don’t think you realize just how amazing you were to me. How amazing you are to me. The love I feel for you goes so deep that I never even knew it was possible to love someone as much as I do you.
Mom called me this morning. I have a sneaking suspicion you’ve been speaking with her. Pull your jaw up Syd, you should have realized by now that nothing gets past me. I worry sometimes about you two being in cahoots. I’d almost figured out my mother and then you came onto the scene and shredded my hard work to bits. Ha ha ha.
She wanted to know how I was doing after last week. She knows that the week just gone is always the hardest of the year for me. After almost thirty years you would think it’d get easier, but now I’m wondering if it’s getting harder. Does it get harder, can it get harder? I have all of these wishes and dreams involving my dad. That’s pretty stupid I know. You’d think that a man of my age wouldn’t dream and wish for anything, especially concerning something so stupid. I can’t help it though Syd. There is so much I want to know, so much I want to learn from him that I never had the chance. And now with me becoming a dad, all of those things seem more defined, more important. I know you said that I had nothing to worry about because you’d be there with me and we’d figure it out together, but it doesn’t make it any easier Syd. You can’t just snap your fingers and have all those desires filled, you know what I mean?
I’m sorry, I know I’m being selfish, especially given everything you have and are going through. You must be feeling… you know, I have no idea how you’re feeling. How are you feeling Syd? God I’m so stupid to get so worked up over these things when you’re the one having the baby. I promise I’ll work it out and be there for you from now on. I know that I’ve been sort of distant for the past week and have barely paid you any attention. I’m going to work on that from now on, that’s a promise I will keep…
Just as I am penning those last lines in the journal that Syd and I started earlier in the year a clearing of the throat interrupts my line of thought. Looking up my wife is standing directly in front of my desk gazing down at me, a sparkle in her eyes that I’ve neglected to see for a couple of weeks. She is wearing a tight fitting, three quarter sleeve red dress that is cut into a deep V at the neck and fits to every single curve of her body perfectly, leaving nothing to wonder about. I’m checking her out and she knows it.
“H-hi,” I stutter, getting up to give her a kiss on the cheek to greet her. “I didn’t know you were coming in today.”
“Well I changed my session with Barnett around from tomorrow to this morning and I thought I’d come in and take you to lunch to celebrate,” she grins, straightening my tie. Her sessions with Barnett have really transformed her and she’s opened herself up to the world as the Sydney Bristow I’ve always seen deep down.
Closing the book and pushing it away, I look at the clock and realize that it is much later than what I thought. “Sounds great. Wait a second, what are we celebrating?” I ask.
She pushes me out of the way when I stay standing and slides herself into my chair, closing her eyes for just a brief second as she gets comfortable. She sighs then answers. “My last session with Barnett,” she tells me grinning proudly.
“Really?”
“Really. At least for the time being. She says that I’ve made a lot of progress and with everything that’s going to be happening, well she just doesn’t see the need for me to continue with my sessions, unless I wanted to,” she shrugs.
“Well that’s wonderful Syd, congratulations,” I tell her.
“Aww, thanks hon,” she smiles, pulling me down for a chaste kiss. “Oh, and we got presents!” she half squeals, pulling up a square gift bag from her side to show me.
It is at this moment that Eric and Will notice that Syd is here and wander over from their corner to greet her. They hang around a few minutes until I not so bluntly tell them to go away. They walk away mumbling and Syd and I both laugh at their retreating forms.
“So dear husband,” Syd says, grabbing at my arm to stand up. “Where are you taking me for lunch?”
As I am locking my computer and tidying my desk a little, I laugh and respond to her. “I thought you were taking me to lunch?”
“Hmmm, well I just said that because I knew you wouldn’t let me pay anyway,” she laughs.
Twenty minutes later, we’re sitting on the benches at the park near work, two bags of food from our favorite Mexican take-out spread out in front of us. Syd grabs the green corn tamale that I ordered for myself before I even have a chance to look for it. Just as she is about to take her first bite, she catches the look I am giving her and stops the motion.
“Is that the green corn tamale?” I ask.
She looks from the food in her hand back to me, repeating the look thinking of her answer. “Maybe.”
I put on my best serious face when all I want to do is laugh at her childlike expression. “Remember what happened the last time you had a green corn tamale Syd?”
I can tell from the look on her face that that particular memory of the terrible heartburn she complained about last time she ate this particular dish is coming back to haunt her. She scrunches her face for the slightest moment before she dives in and takes a bite. With her mouth full, she says, “We need to drop in at the drugstore on the way back to the office. I hear Walgreen’s has a sale on the super size bottle of Tums this week.”
We’re both laughing even before she gets all of that out. “Oh god! Do you think that I’ll eat like this when I’m not pregnant?” she asks once she swallows and we’ve both calmed down a bit.
“I hope not!” I blurt out without even thinking. I mentally slap myself and prepare for the onslaught of crying I’m about to witness but when I dare to look up at my wife, I am shocked to find that she isn’t near sobbing stage. In my mind I’m wiping away the sweat that formed during that awkward moment as I nervously rip open my lunch.
“Chill out Vaughn, what am I, weepy and vulnerable?” she winks at me as she takes a swipe of the guacamole oozing out the side of my chicken flautas.
“Not today,” I laugh, easing into the conversation again. For the past couple of days, the weepy and vulnerable stage of the pregnancy has crept back into our routine and my wife can be happy and cheery one second and weepy and whiney the next. I’ve been on edge trying to figure all of this out and usually find myself the reason of the tears.
“So you were writing in our diary before…” she trails off moving conversation along and taking another swipe of my guacamole with it. I’d stop her but I actually love that she’s doing it.
“Ah hmm,” I confirm, nodding.
“Anything interesting I should look forward to?”
“I don’t know, you’re just going to have to wait for it, aren’t you?” I tease, this time swiping at the guacamole myself and letting her suck it off my finger. When she’s done I lean over to her and take her lips in mine, the spice from her tamales tingling my lips.
“You’re really embracing the whole, ‘spicy food can induce labor’ thing, aren’t you?” I ask when I pull back.
“Do you really blame me?” she asks, straightening up. As she does so, her enormous belly stretches forward and given what she’s wearing, is really bulging in front of her.
“No, not at all, but your due date is still a week away.” She raises her eyebrow and gives me a look. I hold my hands up in mock surrender and laugh. “Okay, not going there.”
She puts her food back down on the paper it came wrapped in, swipes more guacamole, and then rests her hands in front of her. “It’s just, I feel huge Vaughn. I think that I’ve spent more time in the bathroom in the past month than I have sleeping. My back is completely killing me, baby is kicking at my ribs all the time. The only thing that I am benefiting from is that I can eat whatever I want, whenever I want and have a really good excuse. And wherever I go I get those sympathetic looks from people who are really thinking ’my god is she ready to pop yet, or what!’.”
“That might have something to with the red dress Syd,” I tease, taking a swig of water. Her face falters for a slight second and I’m sure I’m done in.
“What’s wrong with the dress?” she asks, near panic as she sits back and tries to examine herself.
I grab her hand and stroke it calmly as I assure her. “Sweetheart, there’s nothing wrong with the dress. Trust me, there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just really close fitting,” I tell her, making sure to pick my words carefully.
“What’s that supposed to mean Vaughn?”
“It’s not supposed to mean anything Syd. I’ve just become used to seeing you in sweats or leggings with a t-shirt. I like seeing you show off your body.” I take another bite of my lunch and when I look up, Syd hasn’t moved an inch. Looking closer I can see tears forming in her eyes. “Hey now, that was supposed to be a compliment Syd.”
She blinks a few times before turning her attention back to me. “I saw it in the store the other week and thought it’d be nice for a change. Maybe dress up a little since I haven’t done that in a while. I didn’t mean it as a way to make people feel sorry for me Vaughn,” she whimpers, the tears falling down her cheeks and landing in spots on the top of her belly.
Wiping at her face with my hand I stroke her cheek for a second. “I love the dress Syd, and you’re right, it is nice seeing you get dressed up a little,” I offer.
She half smiles. “I think I forgot to mention a couple of minutes ago that my hormones are all out of whack and I’m crying all the time,” she tells me. After a minute she adds, “I like the dress too.”
“Good,” I chuckle, pulling my hand away, offering more guacamole her way. She graciously accepts and I earn a brief smile from her. “Now tell me, what else did Barnett say?”
~*~*~
Hi again,
Twice in one day… Well I just got back to the office after having Mexican for lunch at the park with you. Rather, should I say, you ate and swiped half of mine. I’ll never admit this to you any other place from here, but I love when you do that. You get this devilish look on your face just as you’re diving across the table… it’s just another thing I love about you.
You wore this red dress today, and I say it like that because in twenty years time when you’re reading back on these entries I know that you’re not even going to remember what happened. You wore this red dress. It had a deep V neck, three quarter sleeves, ended just above your knees and was very close fitting… it left nothing to the imagination. When you were first standing at my desk, I was checking you out, thanking the heavens for all that is good and holy and you knew it. I suppose I got a kick out of it and you must have as well because you were smiling, this smile like when the cat ate the canary. Or some metaphor along those lines, it’s a good thing that you’re the English Lit major in this marriage and not me because I suck at those things.
Anyway, you’d just finished your last session with Barnett and you were pretty damned proud of yourself. I’m pretty damned proud of you as well. You wanted to take me to lunch to celebrate so I took you to our favorite Mexican place and we ate (green corn tamales for you and chicken flautas with guacamole for me) on a bench at the park nearby while the traffic zoomed past in the background and the kids swung on the swing set in front of us.
I reminded you about the last time you had tamales. And when I hinted that toward you, you remembered as well. You made some smart comment about picking up Tums from the drug store on the way home and we cracked up. It was trivial, but it was normal. And for that entire lunch you made me remember what I’m doing. Maybe it was the red dress that brought me back to earth, but you reminded me exactly what we’re doing, exactly who we are, what our pasts are. I don’t care anymore Syd because as long as you’re by my side, anything is possible.
How do you do it? How do you make me fall in love with you all over again every single day of our lives? That’s what you do to me Syd. You laugh and I laugh. You steal my lunch and I don’t care. You wear a red dress and you make me weak at the knees. Every day I spend with you is a gift. I was stupid to ever doubt anything of what we have and what we’re going to have.
I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry, and that I’m okay. I know I’ve been crazy this past week, especially that night where I broke down on you. I don’t know what happened but I promise it won’t happen again. And I also want to promise that my next crisis won’t be until I’m at least fifty and our daughter wants to bring a boy home for dinner. You have my word on that.
God help me. My little girl is going to want to bring home a boy for dinner. Where does the sanity end?
I love you.
Always,
-V
~*~*~
When I arrive home that night I find Sydney asleep on the couch in the formal living room, the Good Parenting Guide draped across her chest and her glasses drooping on her face. I debate myself whether I should make her more comfortable and move her upstairs but I know that if I wake her up, she’ll never get back to sleep again. Instead, I remove her glasses and take the magazine off her chest, resting them both on the side table above her head. Pulling a throw from the opposite lounge chair, I drape it across her body and step back, thankful that I haven’t woken her with all the movement. Retrieving the diary from my briefcase, I rest it on the coffee table in front of the lounge before switching off the lamp and turning the room dark.
Upstairs, I quickly get changed into more comfortable clothes and then head out into the backyard to leash Cookie up for a walk around the block. Our walk turns into more of a light run and when we get back to the house, Cookie aims for the water tap. When I switch it on he sits under it as the cool water completely soaks his front as he cools off. He laps up the water with his huge tongue until I switch it off and he gives me a desperate look. I don’t break since I know that he’ll end up throwing all the water back up if he continues to drink it directly from the tap. Instead, I push his water bowl closer to him and that seems to do the trick as he submerses his whole mouth in the water as he drinks.
Shaking my head as I laugh at his crazy antics I head back inside and check on Sydney, thankful that she’s still sleeping. I take a shower and throw the sweaty clothes in the hamper, opting for new sweats and a t-shirt for the evening at home. When I get back downstairs my wife is still sleeping soundly and I hope that this will continue for as long as possible. Lord knows she needs it.
In the kitchen I play the messages on the answering machine, noting the one in particular from our doctor’s office reminding Syd of her appointment at three tomorrow afternoon. I cringe, thinking the appointment was later since I was asked in to headquarters tomorrow for an important meeting with Director Devlin at two. Hopefully I will make it out of the office by two thirty and over to the doctor’s office by three, but I don’t like my chances.
Forty minutes later dinner is in the oven and I am washing the salad leaves when a pair of arms start snaking their way around my waist.
“What happens when our son wants to bring a girl home for dinner?” she whispers.
I grab her hands and turn around and she falls into my embrace as much as she can. Our foreheads meet and I try to think of something really witty to come back with but come up empty. “Hmm, haven’t thought that far ahead. See, I’m totally convinced we’re having a girl.”
Pulling back, she laughs at me. “Oh no, really? I would never have guessed.” Moving over to the oven, she bends down to peer inside. “Something smells really great, what’s on the menu, chef?”
“Lasagna, salad, maybe some herb bread just the way you like it,” I reply, getting back to my task of washing the salad leaves.
“Mmm, sounds great. I’m starving,” she says, now standing next to me. “When did you get home?”
“Uhm, about two hours ago. You were asleep so I took Cookie for a run, had a shower. Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah, I did actually. How was your afternoon?”
I chuckle. “Boring. If I see the sight of another report I think I’ll scream. I’m glad I only have four days left until my leave starts,” I tell her, referring to my three month paternity leave that begins as of five o’clock Friday afternoon. “Maybe when I get back in a few months something exciting is happening and I’ll get to do something different.”
“Oh hon, I’m sorry,” she tells me, running her hand over my forehead and through my hair. “I have a feeling your leave time is going to pretty exciting though,” she grins.
“Yeah, maybe. Oh hey, the doctor’s office called and left a message confirming your appointment for three tomorrow,” I remind her. She moves off to the other side of the kitchen to retrieve the juice from the fridge, pouring herself a glass and pulling a beer out for me. “Thanks,” I tell her when she pulls the cap off and sits the bottle in front of me.
“Are you going to meet me there or pick me up from here?”
“Actually, I have a meeting over at headquarters tomorrow at two. I thought your appointment was later and I can’t reschedule. I’m going to do my best to make it there on time. I’m sorry Syd; I really wanted to be there for this one.”
“No, it’s okay. Don’t apologize, you’ve been to every appointment up until tomorrow. It’s okay to miss one, Vaughn,” she tells me.
“Yeah but I really wanted to be there tomorrow. This is the important one.”
“It’s no more important that all the other’s Vaughn. If you can make it, that’d be great, if not, don’t worry about it. What’s this meeting for anyway? Sounds important,” she says, taking a big gulp of orange juice.
“I don’t know. All Devlin’s assistant said is that it was important that I come in as soon as possible, the director has something important he wants to discuss with me,” I shrug.
Suddenly, the glass Sydney was holding hits the counter with a loud thud and Sydney’s hand clutches at the top of her stomach. She’s grimacing in pain and I don’t know what to do. “Syd?” I ask, yelling.
“It’s fine,” she breathes heavily. “Your son just kicked me in the ribs. HARD.”
“Oh,” I respond.
“Oh? Oh? That’s all you’ve got to say. That hurt like hell Vaughn!” she screeches.
“Well, I thought it was something, like, you know, something.”
“You better have more to say than ’oh’ when something happens Vaughn. Okay, and now I have to pee,” she tells me, a displeased look on her face.
I smile at her as she waddles off into the laundry. I continue making the salad, cutting the avocado and putting it on top before moving it to the side and clearing the dirty board and knife. I’m checking on our lasagna when she returns, going straight for the silverware drawer to set the table.
“You know, I don’t know what I ever did to this baby to make him hate me so much. I did not deserve that kick,” she sulks into the napkins.
“Come on Syd, that’s the joy of being pregnant,” she scowls when I say that. “Maybe it’s because we still haven’t decided on any names.”
“We’ve chosen names. Elizabeth Abbey for a girl…” she trails off.
“And for a boy?”
She grumbles. “I don’t know Vaughn. There’s too many to choose from. Nothing has stuck out for me,” she turns around to look at me. “Hey! How about you choose the boys’ name!”
I walk over to her, removing the placemats from her grasp and placing them on the table, as I force her to take a seat. “Syd…”
“What Vaughn? I don’t know. I mean, even if we have a girl, who says that the name we’ve chosen will suit her. What if she’s not an Elizabeth? What if she’s an Abbey or an Olivia, or some other name we haven’t even considered? This is really important, whatever we choose is the name our baby will have for the rest of their life, I don’t want to screw it up.”
“Syd,” I start seriously, standing directly in front of her. “I don’t think it’s possible to screw up your baby’s name.”
“Then what was Gwenyth Paltrow thinking with poor little Apple?” she sulks.
“You’re right,” I walk away but turn back to add, “There’s always Peaches and Pear that we haven’t considered.”
“Michael,” she begins in the most serious tone possible. “…if you’re being serious, all name choosing responsibilities are being stripped from your grasp,” she laughs.
“Ha ha, very funny Syd.”
I pull out the bread, then the lasagna and set it on the stove top before cutting it into slices and serving it on two plates. I set those plates on the table then bring the bread, salad and dressing over and sit down opposite my wife. She hoes into the food immediately, taking two huge spoonfuls of salad on her plate then drowning the entire plate in the balsamic vinegarette that I made from scratch since I know how much she loves it. I cringe at the mix of everything, but she is none-the-wiser with my thoughts since she doesn’t look up from her plate.
“Hungry?” I ask, stifling a laugh.
When she looks up she is chewing the mouth full of food she has and the laugh that I was holding back before escapes when I see the lasagna sauce smudged on her cheek. I lean across the table and wipe her cheek with her napkin and she blushes slightly before offering a mumbled sorry. “And yes, I’m starved. We’re starved. This is delicious, thank you Vaughn.”
“You’re welcome. So you know what’s coming up?” I ask her, moving the conversation away from baby names.
“My due date?” she asks dumbly.
“Ah yes, your due date. But also, your birthday is on Saturday, Syd,” I remind her excitedly.
“Oh, yeah,” she says despondently.
“Hey, what’s with the oh yeah,” I ask, mocking her reply.
“I don’t know Vaughn. I’m turning twenty-nine. That’s one year away from the big three-oh and my last as a non-mommy. That is, of course, taking into account baby doesn’t come anytime in the next four days.”
“Ah, I see. So I take it you don’t want a party?” I suggest, gauging her reaction.
“God no, Vaughn. No more parties in my honor. Seriously, I’m all partied out,” she says holding up her hand.
“Damn, so I better call off all of my carefully laid plans,” I wink.
“Yes, please do. Honestly Vaughn?” she asks. I look up and wait for what she has to say. “I’m looking forward to a nice dinner, just you and me, maybe a bubble bath and a foot massage afterward. Something along the lines of what goes down tonight,” she hints.
“Are you dropping hints darling wife?”
“Oh no, I would never,” she chuckles, her hand actions and facial expression overdramatic. Dinner continues on in a peaceful silence, both enjoying the good food and company.
“Hey Vaughn?” she calls me again and I look up and meet her gaze. “You’re too wonderful to me.”
I smile quickly, spearing a piece of tomato on my fork and meeting her eyes again. “Right back atcha, Syd.”
TBC
A/N cont... awww, the beginning of the end starts next chapter. I can't wait!!
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: No, I don't own it, I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. Alias and all the characters belong to Touchstone, ABC and the talented JJ. Abrams.
Timeline: To fit in with future storylines, I have changed the time of when SD-6 was brought down. Sydney is now four months pregnant and this fic begins in early November.
Summary: Sequel to No Regrets. Trying to make normal.
Chapter 39
Vaughn POV
April 12th 2004 - 12.36pm
My dearest Sydney,
I know I haven’t been here for a while; neither of us have been actually. I suppose we’ve both been pretty busy getting everything together for the baby that we’ve seemed to have forgotten about this. I was rifling through my briefcase just a minute ago and I saw this hidden in the bottom surrounded my loads of crap I’m sure I don’t need (PS, next time I’m doing nothing, please remind me that my briefcase needs cleaning out).
I’m sitting at my desk right now trying to complete another mind numbing report. Eric and Will are across from me and I know they’re updating one another on one of the bets that are going around this place regarding you and me. Honestly, with the rumor mill that is going around here lately, I don’t know how any one gets anything done.
I left you sleeping this morning, I didn’t have the heart to wake you up after knowing how long it took you to eventually fall asleep last night. I’d give you anything if it meant this pregnancy would go easy on you. We only have one more week to go; I know it’s going to be the longest and hardest week of our lives, more so of course, for you. I’m sure I will be a total and complete mess when you’re in labor. I don’t even want to think about it.
I don’t think I’ve thanked you enough lately. After my crisis of conscious last week I’ve felt pretty cut up inside. I know I shouldn’t be, after all, you’re my wife now and honestly, I don’t think you realize just how amazing you were to me. How amazing you are to me. The love I feel for you goes so deep that I never even knew it was possible to love someone as much as I do you.
Mom called me this morning. I have a sneaking suspicion you’ve been speaking with her. Pull your jaw up Syd, you should have realized by now that nothing gets past me. I worry sometimes about you two being in cahoots. I’d almost figured out my mother and then you came onto the scene and shredded my hard work to bits. Ha ha ha.
She wanted to know how I was doing after last week. She knows that the week just gone is always the hardest of the year for me. After almost thirty years you would think it’d get easier, but now I’m wondering if it’s getting harder. Does it get harder, can it get harder? I have all of these wishes and dreams involving my dad. That’s pretty stupid I know. You’d think that a man of my age wouldn’t dream and wish for anything, especially concerning something so stupid. I can’t help it though Syd. There is so much I want to know, so much I want to learn from him that I never had the chance. And now with me becoming a dad, all of those things seem more defined, more important. I know you said that I had nothing to worry about because you’d be there with me and we’d figure it out together, but it doesn’t make it any easier Syd. You can’t just snap your fingers and have all those desires filled, you know what I mean?
I’m sorry, I know I’m being selfish, especially given everything you have and are going through. You must be feeling… you know, I have no idea how you’re feeling. How are you feeling Syd? God I’m so stupid to get so worked up over these things when you’re the one having the baby. I promise I’ll work it out and be there for you from now on. I know that I’ve been sort of distant for the past week and have barely paid you any attention. I’m going to work on that from now on, that’s a promise I will keep…
Just as I am penning those last lines in the journal that Syd and I started earlier in the year a clearing of the throat interrupts my line of thought. Looking up my wife is standing directly in front of my desk gazing down at me, a sparkle in her eyes that I’ve neglected to see for a couple of weeks. She is wearing a tight fitting, three quarter sleeve red dress that is cut into a deep V at the neck and fits to every single curve of her body perfectly, leaving nothing to wonder about. I’m checking her out and she knows it.
“H-hi,” I stutter, getting up to give her a kiss on the cheek to greet her. “I didn’t know you were coming in today.”
“Well I changed my session with Barnett around from tomorrow to this morning and I thought I’d come in and take you to lunch to celebrate,” she grins, straightening my tie. Her sessions with Barnett have really transformed her and she’s opened herself up to the world as the Sydney Bristow I’ve always seen deep down.
Closing the book and pushing it away, I look at the clock and realize that it is much later than what I thought. “Sounds great. Wait a second, what are we celebrating?” I ask.
She pushes me out of the way when I stay standing and slides herself into my chair, closing her eyes for just a brief second as she gets comfortable. She sighs then answers. “My last session with Barnett,” she tells me grinning proudly.
“Really?”
“Really. At least for the time being. She says that I’ve made a lot of progress and with everything that’s going to be happening, well she just doesn’t see the need for me to continue with my sessions, unless I wanted to,” she shrugs.
“Well that’s wonderful Syd, congratulations,” I tell her.
“Aww, thanks hon,” she smiles, pulling me down for a chaste kiss. “Oh, and we got presents!” she half squeals, pulling up a square gift bag from her side to show me.
It is at this moment that Eric and Will notice that Syd is here and wander over from their corner to greet her. They hang around a few minutes until I not so bluntly tell them to go away. They walk away mumbling and Syd and I both laugh at their retreating forms.
“So dear husband,” Syd says, grabbing at my arm to stand up. “Where are you taking me for lunch?”
As I am locking my computer and tidying my desk a little, I laugh and respond to her. “I thought you were taking me to lunch?”
“Hmmm, well I just said that because I knew you wouldn’t let me pay anyway,” she laughs.
Twenty minutes later, we’re sitting on the benches at the park near work, two bags of food from our favorite Mexican take-out spread out in front of us. Syd grabs the green corn tamale that I ordered for myself before I even have a chance to look for it. Just as she is about to take her first bite, she catches the look I am giving her and stops the motion.
“Is that the green corn tamale?” I ask.
She looks from the food in her hand back to me, repeating the look thinking of her answer. “Maybe.”
I put on my best serious face when all I want to do is laugh at her childlike expression. “Remember what happened the last time you had a green corn tamale Syd?”
I can tell from the look on her face that that particular memory of the terrible heartburn she complained about last time she ate this particular dish is coming back to haunt her. She scrunches her face for the slightest moment before she dives in and takes a bite. With her mouth full, she says, “We need to drop in at the drugstore on the way back to the office. I hear Walgreen’s has a sale on the super size bottle of Tums this week.”
We’re both laughing even before she gets all of that out. “Oh god! Do you think that I’ll eat like this when I’m not pregnant?” she asks once she swallows and we’ve both calmed down a bit.
“I hope not!” I blurt out without even thinking. I mentally slap myself and prepare for the onslaught of crying I’m about to witness but when I dare to look up at my wife, I am shocked to find that she isn’t near sobbing stage. In my mind I’m wiping away the sweat that formed during that awkward moment as I nervously rip open my lunch.
“Chill out Vaughn, what am I, weepy and vulnerable?” she winks at me as she takes a swipe of the guacamole oozing out the side of my chicken flautas.
“Not today,” I laugh, easing into the conversation again. For the past couple of days, the weepy and vulnerable stage of the pregnancy has crept back into our routine and my wife can be happy and cheery one second and weepy and whiney the next. I’ve been on edge trying to figure all of this out and usually find myself the reason of the tears.
“So you were writing in our diary before…” she trails off moving conversation along and taking another swipe of my guacamole with it. I’d stop her but I actually love that she’s doing it.
“Ah hmm,” I confirm, nodding.
“Anything interesting I should look forward to?”
“I don’t know, you’re just going to have to wait for it, aren’t you?” I tease, this time swiping at the guacamole myself and letting her suck it off my finger. When she’s done I lean over to her and take her lips in mine, the spice from her tamales tingling my lips.
“You’re really embracing the whole, ‘spicy food can induce labor’ thing, aren’t you?” I ask when I pull back.
“Do you really blame me?” she asks, straightening up. As she does so, her enormous belly stretches forward and given what she’s wearing, is really bulging in front of her.
“No, not at all, but your due date is still a week away.” She raises her eyebrow and gives me a look. I hold my hands up in mock surrender and laugh. “Okay, not going there.”
She puts her food back down on the paper it came wrapped in, swipes more guacamole, and then rests her hands in front of her. “It’s just, I feel huge Vaughn. I think that I’ve spent more time in the bathroom in the past month than I have sleeping. My back is completely killing me, baby is kicking at my ribs all the time. The only thing that I am benefiting from is that I can eat whatever I want, whenever I want and have a really good excuse. And wherever I go I get those sympathetic looks from people who are really thinking ’my god is she ready to pop yet, or what!’.”
“That might have something to with the red dress Syd,” I tease, taking a swig of water. Her face falters for a slight second and I’m sure I’m done in.
“What’s wrong with the dress?” she asks, near panic as she sits back and tries to examine herself.
I grab her hand and stroke it calmly as I assure her. “Sweetheart, there’s nothing wrong with the dress. Trust me, there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just really close fitting,” I tell her, making sure to pick my words carefully.
“What’s that supposed to mean Vaughn?”
“It’s not supposed to mean anything Syd. I’ve just become used to seeing you in sweats or leggings with a t-shirt. I like seeing you show off your body.” I take another bite of my lunch and when I look up, Syd hasn’t moved an inch. Looking closer I can see tears forming in her eyes. “Hey now, that was supposed to be a compliment Syd.”
She blinks a few times before turning her attention back to me. “I saw it in the store the other week and thought it’d be nice for a change. Maybe dress up a little since I haven’t done that in a while. I didn’t mean it as a way to make people feel sorry for me Vaughn,” she whimpers, the tears falling down her cheeks and landing in spots on the top of her belly.
Wiping at her face with my hand I stroke her cheek for a second. “I love the dress Syd, and you’re right, it is nice seeing you get dressed up a little,” I offer.
She half smiles. “I think I forgot to mention a couple of minutes ago that my hormones are all out of whack and I’m crying all the time,” she tells me. After a minute she adds, “I like the dress too.”
“Good,” I chuckle, pulling my hand away, offering more guacamole her way. She graciously accepts and I earn a brief smile from her. “Now tell me, what else did Barnett say?”
~*~*~
Hi again,
Twice in one day… Well I just got back to the office after having Mexican for lunch at the park with you. Rather, should I say, you ate and swiped half of mine. I’ll never admit this to you any other place from here, but I love when you do that. You get this devilish look on your face just as you’re diving across the table… it’s just another thing I love about you.
You wore this red dress today, and I say it like that because in twenty years time when you’re reading back on these entries I know that you’re not even going to remember what happened. You wore this red dress. It had a deep V neck, three quarter sleeves, ended just above your knees and was very close fitting… it left nothing to the imagination. When you were first standing at my desk, I was checking you out, thanking the heavens for all that is good and holy and you knew it. I suppose I got a kick out of it and you must have as well because you were smiling, this smile like when the cat ate the canary. Or some metaphor along those lines, it’s a good thing that you’re the English Lit major in this marriage and not me because I suck at those things.
Anyway, you’d just finished your last session with Barnett and you were pretty damned proud of yourself. I’m pretty damned proud of you as well. You wanted to take me to lunch to celebrate so I took you to our favorite Mexican place and we ate (green corn tamales for you and chicken flautas with guacamole for me) on a bench at the park nearby while the traffic zoomed past in the background and the kids swung on the swing set in front of us.
I reminded you about the last time you had tamales. And when I hinted that toward you, you remembered as well. You made some smart comment about picking up Tums from the drug store on the way home and we cracked up. It was trivial, but it was normal. And for that entire lunch you made me remember what I’m doing. Maybe it was the red dress that brought me back to earth, but you reminded me exactly what we’re doing, exactly who we are, what our pasts are. I don’t care anymore Syd because as long as you’re by my side, anything is possible.
How do you do it? How do you make me fall in love with you all over again every single day of our lives? That’s what you do to me Syd. You laugh and I laugh. You steal my lunch and I don’t care. You wear a red dress and you make me weak at the knees. Every day I spend with you is a gift. I was stupid to ever doubt anything of what we have and what we’re going to have.
I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry, and that I’m okay. I know I’ve been crazy this past week, especially that night where I broke down on you. I don’t know what happened but I promise it won’t happen again. And I also want to promise that my next crisis won’t be until I’m at least fifty and our daughter wants to bring a boy home for dinner. You have my word on that.
God help me. My little girl is going to want to bring home a boy for dinner. Where does the sanity end?
I love you.
Always,
-V
~*~*~
When I arrive home that night I find Sydney asleep on the couch in the formal living room, the Good Parenting Guide draped across her chest and her glasses drooping on her face. I debate myself whether I should make her more comfortable and move her upstairs but I know that if I wake her up, she’ll never get back to sleep again. Instead, I remove her glasses and take the magazine off her chest, resting them both on the side table above her head. Pulling a throw from the opposite lounge chair, I drape it across her body and step back, thankful that I haven’t woken her with all the movement. Retrieving the diary from my briefcase, I rest it on the coffee table in front of the lounge before switching off the lamp and turning the room dark.
Upstairs, I quickly get changed into more comfortable clothes and then head out into the backyard to leash Cookie up for a walk around the block. Our walk turns into more of a light run and when we get back to the house, Cookie aims for the water tap. When I switch it on he sits under it as the cool water completely soaks his front as he cools off. He laps up the water with his huge tongue until I switch it off and he gives me a desperate look. I don’t break since I know that he’ll end up throwing all the water back up if he continues to drink it directly from the tap. Instead, I push his water bowl closer to him and that seems to do the trick as he submerses his whole mouth in the water as he drinks.
Shaking my head as I laugh at his crazy antics I head back inside and check on Sydney, thankful that she’s still sleeping. I take a shower and throw the sweaty clothes in the hamper, opting for new sweats and a t-shirt for the evening at home. When I get back downstairs my wife is still sleeping soundly and I hope that this will continue for as long as possible. Lord knows she needs it.
In the kitchen I play the messages on the answering machine, noting the one in particular from our doctor’s office reminding Syd of her appointment at three tomorrow afternoon. I cringe, thinking the appointment was later since I was asked in to headquarters tomorrow for an important meeting with Director Devlin at two. Hopefully I will make it out of the office by two thirty and over to the doctor’s office by three, but I don’t like my chances.
Forty minutes later dinner is in the oven and I am washing the salad leaves when a pair of arms start snaking their way around my waist.
“What happens when our son wants to bring a girl home for dinner?” she whispers.
I grab her hands and turn around and she falls into my embrace as much as she can. Our foreheads meet and I try to think of something really witty to come back with but come up empty. “Hmm, haven’t thought that far ahead. See, I’m totally convinced we’re having a girl.”
Pulling back, she laughs at me. “Oh no, really? I would never have guessed.” Moving over to the oven, she bends down to peer inside. “Something smells really great, what’s on the menu, chef?”
“Lasagna, salad, maybe some herb bread just the way you like it,” I reply, getting back to my task of washing the salad leaves.
“Mmm, sounds great. I’m starving,” she says, now standing next to me. “When did you get home?”
“Uhm, about two hours ago. You were asleep so I took Cookie for a run, had a shower. Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah, I did actually. How was your afternoon?”
I chuckle. “Boring. If I see the sight of another report I think I’ll scream. I’m glad I only have four days left until my leave starts,” I tell her, referring to my three month paternity leave that begins as of five o’clock Friday afternoon. “Maybe when I get back in a few months something exciting is happening and I’ll get to do something different.”
“Oh hon, I’m sorry,” she tells me, running her hand over my forehead and through my hair. “I have a feeling your leave time is going to pretty exciting though,” she grins.
“Yeah, maybe. Oh hey, the doctor’s office called and left a message confirming your appointment for three tomorrow,” I remind her. She moves off to the other side of the kitchen to retrieve the juice from the fridge, pouring herself a glass and pulling a beer out for me. “Thanks,” I tell her when she pulls the cap off and sits the bottle in front of me.
“Are you going to meet me there or pick me up from here?”
“Actually, I have a meeting over at headquarters tomorrow at two. I thought your appointment was later and I can’t reschedule. I’m going to do my best to make it there on time. I’m sorry Syd; I really wanted to be there for this one.”
“No, it’s okay. Don’t apologize, you’ve been to every appointment up until tomorrow. It’s okay to miss one, Vaughn,” she tells me.
“Yeah but I really wanted to be there tomorrow. This is the important one.”
“It’s no more important that all the other’s Vaughn. If you can make it, that’d be great, if not, don’t worry about it. What’s this meeting for anyway? Sounds important,” she says, taking a big gulp of orange juice.
“I don’t know. All Devlin’s assistant said is that it was important that I come in as soon as possible, the director has something important he wants to discuss with me,” I shrug.
Suddenly, the glass Sydney was holding hits the counter with a loud thud and Sydney’s hand clutches at the top of her stomach. She’s grimacing in pain and I don’t know what to do. “Syd?” I ask, yelling.
“It’s fine,” she breathes heavily. “Your son just kicked me in the ribs. HARD.”
“Oh,” I respond.
“Oh? Oh? That’s all you’ve got to say. That hurt like hell Vaughn!” she screeches.
“Well, I thought it was something, like, you know, something.”
“You better have more to say than ’oh’ when something happens Vaughn. Okay, and now I have to pee,” she tells me, a displeased look on her face.
I smile at her as she waddles off into the laundry. I continue making the salad, cutting the avocado and putting it on top before moving it to the side and clearing the dirty board and knife. I’m checking on our lasagna when she returns, going straight for the silverware drawer to set the table.
“You know, I don’t know what I ever did to this baby to make him hate me so much. I did not deserve that kick,” she sulks into the napkins.
“Come on Syd, that’s the joy of being pregnant,” she scowls when I say that. “Maybe it’s because we still haven’t decided on any names.”
“We’ve chosen names. Elizabeth Abbey for a girl…” she trails off.
“And for a boy?”
She grumbles. “I don’t know Vaughn. There’s too many to choose from. Nothing has stuck out for me,” she turns around to look at me. “Hey! How about you choose the boys’ name!”
I walk over to her, removing the placemats from her grasp and placing them on the table, as I force her to take a seat. “Syd…”
“What Vaughn? I don’t know. I mean, even if we have a girl, who says that the name we’ve chosen will suit her. What if she’s not an Elizabeth? What if she’s an Abbey or an Olivia, or some other name we haven’t even considered? This is really important, whatever we choose is the name our baby will have for the rest of their life, I don’t want to screw it up.”
“Syd,” I start seriously, standing directly in front of her. “I don’t think it’s possible to screw up your baby’s name.”
“Then what was Gwenyth Paltrow thinking with poor little Apple?” she sulks.
“You’re right,” I walk away but turn back to add, “There’s always Peaches and Pear that we haven’t considered.”
“Michael,” she begins in the most serious tone possible. “…if you’re being serious, all name choosing responsibilities are being stripped from your grasp,” she laughs.
“Ha ha, very funny Syd.”
I pull out the bread, then the lasagna and set it on the stove top before cutting it into slices and serving it on two plates. I set those plates on the table then bring the bread, salad and dressing over and sit down opposite my wife. She hoes into the food immediately, taking two huge spoonfuls of salad on her plate then drowning the entire plate in the balsamic vinegarette that I made from scratch since I know how much she loves it. I cringe at the mix of everything, but she is none-the-wiser with my thoughts since she doesn’t look up from her plate.
“Hungry?” I ask, stifling a laugh.
When she looks up she is chewing the mouth full of food she has and the laugh that I was holding back before escapes when I see the lasagna sauce smudged on her cheek. I lean across the table and wipe her cheek with her napkin and she blushes slightly before offering a mumbled sorry. “And yes, I’m starved. We’re starved. This is delicious, thank you Vaughn.”
“You’re welcome. So you know what’s coming up?” I ask her, moving the conversation away from baby names.
“My due date?” she asks dumbly.
“Ah yes, your due date. But also, your birthday is on Saturday, Syd,” I remind her excitedly.
“Oh, yeah,” she says despondently.
“Hey, what’s with the oh yeah,” I ask, mocking her reply.
“I don’t know Vaughn. I’m turning twenty-nine. That’s one year away from the big three-oh and my last as a non-mommy. That is, of course, taking into account baby doesn’t come anytime in the next four days.”
“Ah, I see. So I take it you don’t want a party?” I suggest, gauging her reaction.
“God no, Vaughn. No more parties in my honor. Seriously, I’m all partied out,” she says holding up her hand.
“Damn, so I better call off all of my carefully laid plans,” I wink.
“Yes, please do. Honestly Vaughn?” she asks. I look up and wait for what she has to say. “I’m looking forward to a nice dinner, just you and me, maybe a bubble bath and a foot massage afterward. Something along the lines of what goes down tonight,” she hints.
“Are you dropping hints darling wife?”
“Oh no, I would never,” she chuckles, her hand actions and facial expression overdramatic. Dinner continues on in a peaceful silence, both enjoying the good food and company.
“Hey Vaughn?” she calls me again and I look up and meet her gaze. “You’re too wonderful to me.”
I smile quickly, spearing a piece of tomato on my fork and meeting her eyes again. “Right back atcha, Syd.”
TBC
A/N cont... awww, the beginning of the end starts next chapter. I can't wait!!