by Tijan
“Where’s Tia?” I ask suddenly, peeking out of the kitchen doorway and not seeing her in the living room.
“Probably running with scissors, watching porn on YouTube, and lighting things on fire. She’ll be fine.”
With a sigh, I leave Alex to finish cleaning up my kitchen while I go in search of the little girl. I might not know a lot about kids, but I do know you should never leave them unattended for long periods of time, and that silence never equals anything good.
Luckily, my house isn’t that big, and I find her in the master bathroom, right off my and Noel’s bedroom.
“Oh, no,” I mutter as soon as I walk in the room.
Tia looks up at me from where she’s perched on the edge of the tub, and her eyes immediately fill with tears. I rush to her side and squat down next to her.
“I mean, oh no, I can’t believe you’re having fun without me!” I lie.
She smiles up at me and finishes squirting the last of an entire bottle of shampoo into the tub before standing up and pointing at it.
“Get in.”
I stare at her in confusion.
“Um, what?”
She sighs heavily.
“I said, get in. Take a bath.”
Glancing down into the tub, I wince at the mountain of goop that she’s dumped into the Jacuzzi tub, several sections of it starting to bubble and hiss. I’ve never seen shampoo do something like this, and it makes me a little nervous thinking about everything she could have dumped in there along with the hair-cleaning product.
“I don’t think—”
“GET IN THE TUB RIGHT NOW!” she screams, with a stomp of her foot.
“Okay, okay, I’m going!” I quickly reply, hopping over the edge of the tub, my feet sinking into the mess, which squeezes between my toes. The feeling makes me want to throw up in my mouth a little. “See? Look at me in the tub! Wheeeeee, this is fun!”
I stomp around a little as she watches me. When I start to climb back out, she blocks my way, her hands on her hips.
“Sit down. Take a real bath or I’ll tell Mommy you said bad words.”
“I didn’t say bad words, your neighbor Alex said bad words!” I complain, throwing him under the bus and cursing him under my breath for putting me in this situation.
Her eyes start to fill with tears again, and this time, her lower lip starts to quiver.
Fucking lip quiver. How am I supposed to ignore a lip quiver?
With a sigh, I slowly sink down into the tub, regretting the action as soon as my ass gets swallowed up by the mess.
“Doesn’t it feel good?” Tia asks with a smile.
“Yep! It feels great! Really tingly. What exactly did you put in my bath, sweetheart?” I ask as nicely as possible, clenching my teeth to stop myself from screaming.
Tia walks over to the cabinet under the sink and starts pulling out empty bottles and tossing them onto the floor next to the tub. Shampoo, conditioner, shaving cream, bleach, peroxide . . . well, that explains the tingling.
She continues throwing out bottles and I quickly realize that maybe I do need a crash course in parenting. Obviously children shouldn’t have access to any of these products. And obviously I’m paying for my mistake, because the tingling has now turned to full-on burning, which means it’s definitely time to panic.
“Tia, honey, I need you to call nine-one-one,” I tell her as calmly as possible while my balls feel like they are being lit on fire.
“NINE-ONE-ONE!” Tia screams at the top of her lungs.
“NOT OUT LOUD, ON THE PHONE!” I scream back, forgetting all about how I shouldn’t freak out in front of her and scare her, even though my balls feel like they are melting right from my body.
“MOMMY SAYS I’M NOT ALLOWED TO USE THE PHONE, DUMMY!” Tia argues, rolling her eyes at me like I’m an idiot.
“What is all the screaming about?” Alex asks, poking his head in the bathroom door. “Dude, are you bathing in front of my neighbor? I think that’s rule number one for Things You Shouldn’t Do in Front of Kids. And you thought you didn’t need to learn how to be a parent.”
Alex moves into the bathroom and scoops Tia up in his arms.
“How about we go into the living room and I put on It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown so Sam can finish whatever kinky thing he’s doing on his own?”
“What’s kinky mean?” Tia asks him as he carries her out of the room.
“I’ll get back to you on that when you’re eighteen.”
As soon as they’re gone, I quickly stand up, pull the plug, and turn on the shower, not even bothering to remove my clothes as I scrub the toxic shit off of me.
It takes thirty minutes and three showers for my balls to finally stop burning, but at least that gives me something to worry about other than the surprise I’ve been planning for Noel.
Chapter 5: The Baby Knows
Noel
Have you ever been in the middle of having sex with someone and found you can’t stop your mind from wandering?
Did I remember to pay the electric bill?
Are we almost out of milk?
Did I call my mother back when she left me a voice mail?
Is Sam not making any noise because I’ve crushed him with my giant belly?
Not that I’m doing any of those things right now, seated on top of my husband in our bed while he thrusts his hips up. My husband is gorgeous, and he’s the best sex I’ve ever had, but I’m too big and irritable and scatterbrained to even pretend I’m enjoying it.
“All right, spit it out,” Sam says softly when he stops moving, sliding his hands up my bare thighs and resting them on my hips.
“That’s not what you said last night,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood instead of bringing it down with my insecurities and crazy brain.
“Ha ha,” he deadpans. “Come on, I know something is bothering you. Do we need to have another intervention, where I tell you all the ways your pregnant body is beautiful and how I still think you’re sexy?”
He helps me lift myself up and off of him, and I lay down on my back next to him, staring up at the ceiling. Sam turns on his side, propping himself on one elbow and supporting his head in one hand while the other rests on my stomach. He stares down at me.
“No, I don’t need another pregnancy intervention. I’m sorry, my head is just all over the place right now.”
“The baby cannot see my penis coming toward its face, we already Googled that shit and found out it isn’t true,” Sam reminds me.
“It’s not that either. But did you know the baby can feel my orgasm? It’s like a sense of euphoria for them. That’s weird. Our baby is having orgasms in the womb. Our baby is having orgasms before it can walk or talk. Isn’t that weird? Doesn’t that creep you out?”
This is not at all the thought that was running through my head, but I don’t want my husband to know I feel gross and ugly, because he’ll just think I’m being silly.
“It didn’t five seconds ago, but thanks for giving me that image right before I go to sleep,” Sam complains.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize again, turning on my side and resting my hand on his chest. “I think I’m just feeling a little off because it’s almost Halloween and we don’t have one decoration up. I know, I know, it was all my idea last year, but this is my favorite holiday. And we don’t have one pumpkin or any corn stalks on the front porch. And it still kind of sucks that we don’t get any trick-or-treaters living way out here in the boonies.”
“Honey, we can do whatever you want. If you want to make Halloween throw up all over this house, we’ll do it. And we always go to your parents’ house for trick-or-treaters anyway, so it doesn’t even matter that we don’t get any kids here,” Sam reminds me.
He’s right, and I don’t know why I’m being all emo about this all of a sudden. My parents’ street, aside from having a Halloween decorating contest, goes all out on Halloween night. Everyone sets up tables and chairs and fire pits in their driveways, and t
he neighbors spend the night going from house to house, voting on which house has the best decorations, sharing food and drinks everyone has set out, and having a fun time hanging out in between passing out candy to all the kids.
It’s probably because of that stupid house across the street from my parents. Knowing someone else is living there and will get to enjoy the fun that is Halloween night right in their own front yard is depressing. But Sam’s right. We go there every year, and this year will be no different, even though it will be the day after Alex and Scheva’s wedding, and a week before I’m due to give birth.
I stare at Sam’s face and for the first time see just how exhausted he looks. He’s been working a ton of overtime lately, leaving the house before the sun comes up and coming home long after it’s gone down most nights. I feel bad that I’m making him feel bad about where we live. This is a great house to raise a baby, and I’m just going to have to deal with the fact that we’re thirty minutes away from my family and I’ll always have to go there if I want to enjoy the fun of trick-or-treat night.
“First thing tomorrow, I’ll go out and get us a bunch of pumpkins to carve and corn stalks to put on the front porch. And before I leave, I’ll bring all of your boxes full of Halloween decorations down from the attic so you can go crazy around this place. Sound good?” Sam asks.
Giving him a smile, I push myself up, and with a few grunts and sighs and a lot of effort, I climb back onto his lap and rock my hips against him until I feel him start to grow hard again between my thighs.
“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” I ask, lifting my body a few inches so Sam can reach between us and line himself up.
I sink down on him and we both groan.
“Yes, but I don’t mind you telling me again,” Sam mutters, his eyes fluttering closed as I swivel my hips and he jerks his up to meet me. “Oh, shit. Do that again.”
I do as he asks, wishing my huge belly weren’t in the way so I could look down and see him moving inside me.
Right when my mind finally clears of all the nonsense and I can feel my release start to creep up on me, the baby kicks, and my body jerks to a halt.
“What’s wrong? What happened? Are you okay?” Sam asks, his eyes flying open as he looks up at me with worry.
“The baby kicked,” I whisper.
“Um, okay?”
“The baby knows I was almost ready to have an orgasm,” I whisper again.
“The baby does not know you were almost ready to have an orgasm,” Sam says with a sigh.
“The baby knows. I can’t be responsible for my baby learning about orgasms when it can’t even speak to tell me to stop talking about orgasms,” I complain.
“It’s like you want me to throw up in my mouth right now,” Sam mutters.
“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. When this baby is out of me and is nowhere near my orgasms, everything will be fine.”
“You can make it up to me right now. Let me do that thing,” he demands.
Sam gently lifts me off his body again, moving out from under me and sitting up in bed next to me as I grunt and huff and position myself until my back is leaning up against the headboard.
“No. Absolutely not. I told you to never ask me if you could do that again. That was NOT fun for me, nor was it a pleasurable experience,” I remind him, crossing my arms in front of me and resting them on my huge belly.
“I’ll go slower this time. I promise you’ll like it.”
“You said that last time, and it ended in me crying and having to take five showers,” I argue.
His mouth turns into a pout, and he bats his eyelashes at me.
“Please, Noel? Pretty please? I promise I’ll never ask you to do this again. I know it’s more fun for me than it is for you, but I’ll be quick. It will be over before you know it,” he begs.
Considering I just ruined his evening, I have no choice but to give in.
Sam lets out a whoop of excitement and scrambles off the bed to grab all of the necessary supplies.
True to his word, he’s quick and it’s over before I know it. There are no screams of protest or crying from me this time, just a look of complete annoyance that I don’t even bother hiding from my husband.
“Okay, all finished. Shit, baby. You’re so cute. I don’t know why you won’t let me take a picture. Your mother would love this.”
Lifting my head from the pillows where I scooted down to let him do his thing, I stare at my huge belly, now completely covered in orange paint, with a jack-o’-lantern face drawn on with black paint.
“Stop giving me that look. You’re adorable. This is what happens when you’re going to have a baby right after Halloween, so deal with it. This is all I have to live for right now. Don’t ruin it,” Sam scolds, unable to keep the stern look on his face, his dimples popping out as he stares at the masterpiece he just painted on my stomach.
I know I should probably think this is cute, but it just makes me feel even more unattractive, knowing my stomach resembles a giant, plump pumpkin.
“Fuck it. I’m taking a picture,” Sam mutters, reaching over to grab his cell phone from his nightstand.
“I will shove that thing up your ass if you take a picture of my stomach right now,” I threaten.
“Too late,” Sam says with a smile, pressing a couple of buttons on his phone until I hear a whoosh sound, letting me know he just sent the damn thing to God knows how many people.
Instead of throwing a fit, I get up out of bed and head to the shower, quietly plotting his death as I turn on the water and let it warm up.
“Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch, ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah,” I start chanting.
“I HEARD THAT!” Sam shouts from the other side of the door. “STOP DOING THAT. IT’S FREAKING ME THE FUCK OUT!”
With a laugh, I get into the shower and start scrubbing the damn pumpkin off my stomach, looking forward to getting into the Halloween spirit tomorrow and forgetting all about my stupid superstition. Alex and Scheva are going to have a fun, awesome wedding, we’re going to hang out at my parents’ house for trick-or-treat and have an amazing time, and Sam and I will celebrate another holiday without any mishaps. I can feel it.
Chapter 6: Phteven
Sam
“Sorry! I know I’m late, just give me two seconds to wash up really quick and then we can go,” I tell Noel as I rush into the kitchen where she’s seated at the table with her laptop in front of her.
She tips her head up and smiles at me as I lean down and give her a quick kiss on the lips.
“It’s fine. I’m just trying to finish up some work.”
I pause for a minute to stare at her as she fiddles around on her computer. She looks exhausted, and I feel like the biggest ass in the world for being away from her so much lately and for keeping a secret from her. I hate that she thinks I’ve been working all this overtime lately and feels bad for me whenever I tell her I’m tired. I’m deceiving my wife, and right now, it doesn’t make me feel good.
“Is that a beaver?” I ask, leaning down closer to look at her laptop screen.
“It’s a wombat. And yes, I Photoshopped a wombat, the ShamWow guy, and the Virgin Mary into our family’s Christmas picture from last year. Don’t judge me. I’m trying to get my creative juices flowing so I can get as much work done as I can before I go on maternity leave,” she tells me.
Noel got a job working for Seduction and Snacks two years ago on Valentine’s Day. It’s a huge company with chains all over the U.S. One side sells sex toys, and the other side is a bakery. They hired Noel to design inappropriate greeting cards for their stores. The popularity of Noel’s cards grew so quickly, the owners made her a partner last Easter, changed the name of the store to Seduction and Snacks and Salutations, and let her add whatever she wanted to the line, like T-shirts, pens, notepads, and a bunch of other shit, all with inappropriate sayings on them.
“What is all that stuff?” Noel asks, looking away from her laptop and noticing the two huge duffe
l bags I brought home from work.
“Don’t ask. Your dad called me earlier in a panic, asking me to bring a bunch of stuff home for him. He’s taking this Halloween-decorating contest to an extreme level,” I tell her.
“If he doesn’t win that thing this year, we’re all going to suffer, Sam.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat and let out a nervous, high-pitched laugh.
“Why wouldn’t he win? He’s totally going to win. Everyone knows he’s going to win. He wins every year. Why would this year be any different? He’s going to win. Should we update our passports just in case? I’ve heard Belize is a nice place to live,” I ramble.
Noel stares at me, her brow furrowed questioningly.
“Are you okay? If you don’t want to go to my parents’ house to help put together the treat bags, I can call my mom and make something up.”
I laugh again, all weird and girly, wondering why in the hell I can’t just laugh like a fucking man when I’m nervous and hiding something from my wife.
“I’m fine! Excellent. Everything is good. Give me five minutes to jump in the shower and then we can go.”
Giving Noel a kiss on the top of her head, I leave her to her wombats and ShamWow guy and head to the bathroom, hoping she’s not getting suspicious and that my surprise will still be a surprise, even though now I’m starting to worry that once everyone finds out what I’ve done, this family will go a hell of a lot more insane.
* * *
“Get your shit together, Sam! I thought you said you’d done this before. Stop acting like a pansy-ass little girl!” Reggie whisper-yells as our feet crunch through the leaves and we gingerly step over pumpkins and extension cords.
“I HAVE done this before. IN A FUCKING WAR ZONE, not for breaking and entering!” I whisper back angrily.
When Reggie called me at work earlier and told me to bring over night-vision goggles, tactical vests, camo face-paint sticks, a Ka-Bar knife, and combat helmets, I thought he needed these items for another asinine decorating idea for his front yard. I had no idea, when Noel and I got here for dinner and to help put together candy bags for wedding favors and trick-or-treat, that Reggie would drag me out to the garage, make me suit up, and threaten to cut off my balls if I didn’t do exactly as he said.