Futures and Frosting (26 page)

“I’m sorry, what
the f-u-c-k does t-h-a-t mean and w-h-a-t do we do n-o-w?”

She has
officially turned into one of the Stepford mothers, spelling words she doesn’t
even need to spell because she is so freaked out.  She is not going to be happy
about this.

“It’s fine,
Claire.  I used my metal detector on him and the penny wasn’t there,” George
stated.

“You’re kidding
me, right?  You know there’s this fancy thing called a hospital you can go to,
don’t you?” she asks.

“I walked uphill
both ways in a snow storm with no shoes just to get to school when I was his age,
and I ate metal shavings for fun.  A little copper isn’t going to hurt him,”
George argues.

“Unless the
penny was made after 1982 because then it’s made with enough zinc to melt his
esophagus,” Drew said matter-of-factly.  “I’m pretty sure that would have
happened by now though, so he’s probably good.”

Claire bends
down next to Gavin and pulls him into her arms.

“Sweetie, how do
you feel?  Is your tummy okay?” she asks him.

“My tummy is
good.  Papa said I need to drop a deuce and check it for money.  I can poop
money!” he says excitedly.

“I wish I could
poop money,” Drew complains.

I bend down next
to Claire and Gavin, gathering both of them in my arms.

“Just so you
know, we’re totally eloping,” I tell her.

“Oh thank God,”
she replied.

“So you really
like it?” Carter asks for the hundredth time.

We are finally
in bed relaxing after the long day, and I can’t stop staring at my ring.

“I think I like
it more than you.”

Carter laughs.
“Very funny.”

“Oh, I’m totally
serious.  I’ve been thinking all this time that you just didn’t want to marry
me and here you were carrying a ring around in your pocket.  I kind of want to
whittle my toothbrush into a shiv and stick it in your eye,” I tell him
seriously.

He rolled over
onto his side and rested his hand on my stomach.

“I’m sorry.  I
should have done it the day I bought the ring.  I just wanted it to be perfect
and then we found out you were pregnant and I know how your mind works.  You
would have never believed I was doing it for the right reasons if I did it
right when we found out,” he says as he gently rubs his palm in a circle on my
protruding belly.

“I know, you’re
right.  My mother said the same thing,” I tell him, placing my hand on top of
his and pushing it down towards the bottom of my stomach where I usually feel
the teeny tiny kicking of little feet.  To me it feels like bubbles popping,
and I'm not sure if he would be able to feel it yet but it doesn’t hurt to try.

“Rachel actually
said something that made sense?” he asks in surprise.

“Yeah, it
shocked me too,” I say, turning my head on the pillow so I can see his face. 
“I should have just talked to you.  Obviously I suck at the whole communication
thing.  I’m much better at suffering in silence.”

Carter scoots
closer and moves his hand out from under mine, sliding it up the front of my
body until it rests on my cheek.

“I think we both
have a long ways to go in the communication department.  We’ll get there
though,” he assures me.

“Did I tell you
that when all this doubt crept into my mind I told Liz about it and she
suggested that I give you a prostate massage?”

“Oh my God,
stop.  Don’t say any more.  Jim actually told me about the night she did that
to him and it was horrifying.  Please don’t say any more,” he warns.

“I don’t know,
you might like it,” I tease.

“
Hey, I don’t
even let anybody wag their finger in my FACE,
” Carter says in a Brooklyn
accent.

“Seriously?  A
Sopranos quote now?”

“Um, yes.  There
is a Sopranos quote for every occasion.  Hence, the reason for its awesomeness. 
Respect The Sopranos,” Carter tells me seriously.

I roll over onto
my side toward him and slide my leg up and over Carter’s hip, running my
fingers through his hair.

“I think we
should celebrate this momentous occasion by me sticking my penis in you,” he
says with a smile.

“You’re lucky
you gave me jewelry today or I might have punched you for that.”

Carter pulls me
closer and brings his lips to mine.  Just like always, his kisses make me
forget about everything.  The softness of his lips and the smooth glide of his
tongue against mine remind me of just how long it has been since we've had
sex.  With our crazy schedules and my attitude problem, it's been a while and I
am more than starved for him.  His arms wrap around me and his hands slide down
to my ass, cupping it and pulling me in against his hardness.  I shift my hips
against him and let out a groan.

“Wait, hold on. 
Shit,” he mutters, breaking off the kiss.

I pull my head
back and shoot him a questioning look.’

“What?  What’s
wrong?”

Is his penis
broken?  Oh dear God please don’t let it be broken.  I NEED IT TO LIVE.

“I have to pee. 
Hold that thought,” he says, pulling out of my arms and scrambling off of the
bed.

I roll over onto
my back and stare up at the ceiling.  A few minutes later I still hadn’t heard
the toilet flush.

“Hey, are you
okay in there?” I yell.

“SHHHHHHH!  NO
TALKING!” he yells back.

What the
fuck?

“What do you
mean no talking?  What the hell is going on?”

I hear a few
expletives coming from the bathroom, and I raise myself up on my elbows so I
can look at the closed bathroom door.

“I can’t pee!”
he finally yells back.

“What do you
mean you can’t pee?”

Holy shit, it
really IS broken.  I knew I should have used it more these past few months. 
Son of a bitch!  It broke from non-use.

“Seriously, you
need to stop talking.  You’re making it worse.”

“What the hell
are you talking about?  How am I making it worse?” I argue.

The door to the
bathroom finally opens and he stands there with his hands on his hips and a
tent in the front of his boxers.

“Because, your
voice turns me on and I can’t get rid of my fucking boner!  I would never say
this to you under normal circumstances but this is an emergency.  So shut the hell
up for a minute so I can pee!”

With that he
goes back in the bathroom and slams the door closed behind him.

Well, at
least it still works.

~

“Oh it was
awesome once we got past Carter’s freak out,” I tell Liz the next day on the
phone.  “He was convinced the baby could see his penis and would either get
jealous or have nightmares for the rest of its life about a penis monster
trying to eat its face.  Then he wanted to try and find a condom because he
though his sperm might drown the baby.  I actually had to bring my laptop into
bed and show him that his penis would need to be two feet long for it to get
anywhere near the baby.”

Carter is
working the day shift today and I'm spending the late afternoon taking down
wallpaper in the room that will eventually be the nursery.  I’d been at it for
a few hours and was exhausted.  I had taken a break to call Liz and report to
her about how the rest of our evening went.  Since she had constantly berated
me the last few months about how often we WEREN’T having sex, I felt she
deserved an update.  After a few minutes we end the call and I decide to take a
trip up to the local corner store to get one of my current pregnancy cravings:
a black cherry slush.  So far I’ve had one every single day since the day I
found out.  They are delicious and refreshing and the only place that sells the
black cherry ones is the place right around the corner from our house.

I pack Gavin in
the car and head down the street.  Once inside the store, I make a beeline for
the slush machine in the back, dragging Gavin along with me.  I get to the
machine and stopped in my tracks, staring at the sign that's taped to the
front.

“Out of order? 
What do you mean, out of order?” I say out loud.

“It means it
don’t work,” Gavin says.

“I know that’s
what it means.  But it’s a slush machine.  It turns water into ice and you add
cherry syrup to it.  How hard can it be for a machine to do that?”

I see that the
machine is still plugged in so I let go of Gavin’s hand, grab onto it, and
start jiggling it back and forth.

The power light
doesn’t come on so I start pressing all of the buttons over and over.  When
that doesn’t work, I start smacking the side of the machine with the palm of my
hand.

“Mom, you’re
gonna break it,” Gavin warns.

“Stupid piece of
shit machine.  All you have to do is make ice you worthless pile of horse
shit!” I say to it, completely ignoring Gavin.

Oh my God I
need this slush.  I need it like I need air to breathe.  Why the fuck won’t it
just work!

At this point
I'm pretty sure my brain has left my body.  I continue to physically assault
the machine, hitting it with my fists and cursing at it like it's a person who
can fight back.

“Nothing to say
for yourself, asshole?  You can’t even TRY to work?  You lazy piece of shit. 
Get off your ass and make me a slush!”

People are
starting to stare. I can feel their eyes on me as I rape the slush machine with
my hands.  I pull cords, I stick my finger in holes, and I remove the entire
front cover, exposing all of the inner workings.

“Ma’am, I’m
going to have to ask you to step away from the slush machine,” a man in a corner
store uniform tells me.

“Why the hell
isn’t your machine working?  You need to fix the machine,” I tell him, standing
there with the cover of it in my hands like it's a shield.

“I’m sorry but
there’s a part that isn’t working.  We had to order a new machine and it won’t
be in until next week,” he explains, prying the cover out of my hand and
setting it aside.

“Next week? 
NEXT WEEK?  What are people supposed to do for slushes if they have to wait a
week?” I ask.

“God doesn’t
want you to have a slush,” Gavin tells me.

I look down at
him questioningly.

“God is king of
the world and he says you don’t need a slush.  Can I get some ice cream?” he
asks.

“God doesn’t
know.  HE DOESN”T KNOW,” I complain.

I’m pretty sure
I’m having an out-of-body experience.  I can see myself acting like a complete
douchebag, but there is nothing I can do about it.  I’m like a junkie that
needs a fix.  My hands are shaking, my head hurts, and I’m about two seconds
away from selling my kid and my shoes for another hit of black cherry slush.

I take Gavin’s
hand, walk calmly out of the store, and drive home.

As soon as we
get in the house I grab the phone and call Carter.  He picks up on the first
ring and all I can do is sob hysterically.

“OH MY GOD,
CLAIRE?!  What’s going on?  Is everything okay?  Is it the baby?  Did Gavin get
hurt?” he shouts.

“The slush
machine was broken!” I wail.

Dead silence on
the other end.

“I’m sorry,
what?” he asks.

“Did I stutter? 
The slush machine was broken.  I couldn’t get my slush.  I need a fucking slush!”
I cry.

“Wait a minute,
this is all because of a slush?” he questions.

Oh my God, it’s he
doesn’t know anything about me.  How can I marry someone who doesn’t understand
me?

“I thought
something serious happened,” he says irritably.

“Something
serious DID happen!  Are you even listening to what I’m saying?”

Carter sighs and
I try to calm myself by NOT thinking about how much I want a slush.  Instead, I
think about how I want to stick my fist up Carter’s ass and give him a prostate
massage with my fist.

“I’m getting off
of work in a few minutes.  My parents should be there in about an hour.”

Oh shit.  The
future in-laws are in town for a visit.
  Thank God I didn’t get arrested at
the corner store.  That would have been awkward.

“I’ll bring you
a slush on my way home,” he promises.

“Black cherry?”

“Yes, black
cherry,” he confirms.

“I love you! 
See you soon!”

~

Carter’s parents
show up right on time.  Thankfully I finish my big gulp slush by then and can
carry on a normal, non bat shit crazy conversation.  Madelyn walks through the
door first and tells us all to come in the living room and close our eyes
because she has a surprise for us.  A few seconds later, Charles says, “Okay,
open them!”

Gavin and Carter
let out excited yells and I groan.

“A puppy!  A
puppy!  You got me a puppy!  I can hug it and squeeze it and ride it like a
bike and give it haircuts!” he shouts excitedly as he gets down on the floor.

The puppy, if
you can call it that, is almost the same size as Gavin, and it looks like a
polar bear.

“Is it even
legal to own one of those?” I question.  The more I look at the thing, the more
I wonder if they really did just bring us an endangered animal that will grow
to be nine-hundred pounds.  Do you have any idea how big of a shit a
nine-hundred pound animal takes?

“This is a pure
bread Great Pyrenees,” Madelyn tells me, expecting me to be impressed.

I'm not.

“Wow, this is
awesome.  Thank you guys so much.  You know I’ve always wanted one of these,”
Carter tells them.

I look at him in
shock.  He’s always wanted a horse for a pet?  This thing is going to be bigger
than our car.

“How exciting. 
We get to house-train a dog AND a new baby.  Can they both be taught to shit
outside?  Or should we put a diaper on the dog?  Pick one, because we’re not
doing both,” I whisper to Carter as he pets the dog, and his parents take a
seat on the couch.