by Bijou Hunter
Matilda finally steps between her brothers and takes the ball. She walks over to Ike and rolls the ball to him, leaving the older boys to stare sadly at the now useless hoop.
We join Poppy who bounces the dog’s tennis ball on the court. By the time we reach her, she’s already tossed it in the hoop.
“Why do you boys lack imagination? Is it the fault of TV or your parents?” Poppy mocks. “I’m guessing your parents are to blame.”
“Shut up,” Felix says and then takes off running because he knows Poppy will give chase.
I stop her before she can grab the teenager. “You’ll need to take it easier once you’ve got my bun in your oven.”
Poppy smiles at me. “Man, I’m gonna love being lazy. Might put myself on bed rest, just for the heck of it.”
“I’ll have to visit more once the baby comes along.”
“We’ll have spare rooms at Mom’s house once our house is built. You won’t need to worry about hotels. Wait, you’re not allergic to cats, are you?”
Ma shakes her head, and I see the wheels already turning in her head. The tough as nails woman from Pat’s motel is replaced by a woman giddy to be a grandmother. Poppy tells Ma about the family tradition of making announcements at Cracker Barrel. No doubt she’ll know something’s up when we invite her to the restaurant.
Quickly, Ma mellows out and learns to deal with all of the strangers around her. The kids, bikers, and wild women are soon joined by the weird elderly Earlhams who arrive with jugs of moonshine and a weird chip dip no one eats. With every minute in the presence of this loud, unusually close family, Ma becomes a believer.
57 Train Wrecks - Emmett
Six Months Later…
Mulder is pissed about getting a new home, but Poppy refuses to abandon him at the rental house where he may or may not end up with new owners. We don’t move the cat until our new house is built and everything in place. His reaction is to howl and run off into the woods where he howls more.
Poppy says she was cranky when she first moved to Tumbling Rock too, and now she loves the town. She promises Mulder will learn to love his new home.
Over time, the cat does take a shine to chasing Hal and Kitty around the combined yards. I nearly piss myself watching those idiot dogs run in terror from the giant cat.
He also is lured into the house by a sweet-talking Poppy and her canned food. At first, he won’t leave the kitchen. Soon, he owns the spot near the big front windows where he watches the world go by. Mulder still wants outside most of the time, but he takes a liking to Thelma and spends a lot of time staring at her through the window at Christine and Jared’s house.
I adjust to my new home a lot easier than the cat. Living with Jared was a little weird for sure. Is he a club brother I can talk shit with or a father figure I ought to be on my best behavior with? Once I move into the modular home on Poppy’s slice of the Earlham property, I get into a better groove with the man. Good thing too since he’s soon the club’s vice president.
Joe fakes a fucking heart attack as an excuse to give up his leadership. Poppy and Justice were especially impressed by his theatrical choice. Court spends a lot of time rolling his eyes behind closed doors. In front of the club, he pretends to be shocked to take over.
“Jared will keep you connected to the way Rawkfist began,” Joe announces to Court.
The only one thrilled by the news is Donovan who weasels out of being in charge.
“My father-in-law has the right stuff,” Donovan says immediately. “Best choice ever.”
Jared only grins because he’s learned a smile will get him through any awkward situation. Zeb and Coretta taught him that skill, and he honed it with Poppy. Now he can do that shit in his sleep.
With Joe retiring for “health” reasons, the Rawkfist Motorcycle Club is finally reborn. Court no longer works in the shadows, but Jared allows the older guys to think their voices are heard. Though the club took for fucking ever to embrace new management, the eventual exchange of power is smooth and probably worth the wait.
On the home front, life is smooth. My woman looks sexy as hell with her round belly and bigger boobs. Poppy coasts through her pregnancy. She even starts a pet taxi service for Christine’s veterinarian business.
“For people who can’t bring their pets in,” she explains one night while curled up on the couch.
Poppy surprised me last year when she announced she’d sold Thor. I was less shocked by the behemoth black SUV she bought. The used Suburban makes it easy to pick up the animals for her Vet Taxi idea.
“Our babies will be huge, so we need a huge car. Besides, you’d barely fit in most of the cars on the lot.”
“I might want to get a car too, I guess. I haven’t driven one in years. Wonder if I can still park the damn things.”
“Until you find out, stay away from T2. I can’t have you crashing my new lover.”
I hate how her comment makes me jealous. It’s a fucking car, and I still don’t want the competition for her love. Soon, I’ll need to share her with our son who we still haven’t named. Poppy is waiting for the right one, but I just don’t want anything my kid will hate me for when he’s old enough to know I screwed him.
58 Train Wrecks - Poppy
Having three pregnant women in one room tends to involve a lot of whining or bragging, depending on moods. I don’t feel like bragging today while sitting in Mom’s La-Z-Boy. Nearby, Journey and Justice rest on the couch with their feet up on the coffee table.
Even at only six months, I’m nearly as big as my sisters who are months ahead of me.
“I’m so pregnant I have a second womb growing out my back,” I mutter, fanning myself with a magazine.
Justice barely waits for me to finish before she complains, “I’m so pregnant my feet are swollen to the size of Journey’s.”
My oldest sister doesn’t even open her eyes. “I’m so pregnant I don’t care about your queefing complaints.”
“That’s pretty damn pregnant, Journey,” Justice teases.
“Isn’t it?” she replies without opening her eyes.
“You might want to see a doctor about the problem.”
“I did. He warned the symptom wouldn’t last and I’d soon want to punch you guys again.”
“As much as I admire the two of you and sympathize with your suffering,” I inject, rubbing my gut, “I think we all know I’m the one with the worst pregnancy.”
“How do you figure?” Justice asks.
“I’m carrying a monster-sized baby from my monster-sized husband. You two are carrying regular twerp babies from your twerp husbands.”
“Court is huge.”
“We’re not talking dick and patience size. This is about overall massiveness, and you’re married to an itty-bitty man.”
“Court is bigger than an average man,” Justice says, her voice rising. “Your man is more like freakishly massive. Mine is sexy massive. Try not to be too jealous.”
“Why does everything have to be a competition?” Journey asks as if she only met us five minutes ago.
Justice rolls her eyes. “You don’t want a competition because you’ve already lost the ‘who glows the most’ award.”
“I still want a recount on that.”
“You might win the ‘whose baby crowns the best,’ but I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
“Crowning involves coming out the hooch, right?” I ask and Journey nods. “Well, I can’t even participate in that contest because there’s no way in fricking hell I’m having this kid naturally. I wouldn’t be surprised if the doctors use the Jaws of Life to get him out of my body.”
Justice grumbles under her breath. “I still think it’s bullshit that you’re having a boy while we both have girls. You just can’t help being the odd man out, can you, Mistress Poops-a-lot.”
“No, I’m an original, unlike you, Mistress Shut the Fuck up Occasionally, Will Ya?”
Journey laughs, but Justice is still stuck on how I’ve ruined t
he family dynamic by having a boy.
“We could have had three girls running around together with their horrible old lady names.”
“Blame Emmett’s sperm,” Journey says.
“Barf,” Justice says in fake outrage. “Shouldn’t you be meditating or something else obnoxiously relaxing?”
“Stop queefing, queef queen. I think it’s nice that Ike will have a boy cousin to play with.”
“He already has Felix, remember?”
“I’m looking for a quirky name,” I announce.
“What happened to going old school with Jane?” Journey asks and finally opens her eyes.
“I never said that.”
“Yes, you did. Right here in this very room, you claimed you wanted to give your kids proper names because they’d be proper people or some crap.”
“When was this?”
Justice leans her head against Journey’s shoulder. “When I was hooking up with Court and thinking of baby names.”
“So like four years ago? No way should I be held to the dumb crap I said as a fifteen-year-old.”
“So quirky for a boy,” Journey says before Justice can speak up again. “That could turn out really bad.”
“I want to have three kids, even if I hate pregnancy and childbirth. Three worked for Mom, and I’m her favorite daughter so it makes sense that I follow in her footsteps.”
“Kiss ass,” my sisters say in unison.
“Listen up, sore losers. I want my first born’s name to honor the man who’s had the biggest impact in my life.”
“You mean Journey, right?” Justice immediately asks.
“Exactly.”
“Bonus. I get the first kid’s name, meaning if you never have more, I’m the only one honored.”
Justice loses her smile. “Then I don’t support this at all.”
“I’m looking for a name that calls back to Journey’s name without being too matchy. I can’t be cruel like that chick who gave her kids ‘J’ names to honor her mustached lover.”
“I was her husband back then,” Jared points out from the kitchen table where he’s been pretending to ignore us.
“Oh, I forgot you were here.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
“In our defense, you’re like a cat. Quiet, menacing, and sporting whiskers.”
“Funny.”
“Did you know Zeb came up with my name?” Journey asks her father.
“I know he thinks he did.”
“So he’s wrong?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll never admit it was his idea.”
“Very mature of you.”
“Why don’t you name the kid West?”
“How is that tied to Journey?” I ask, thinking he’s messing with me.
“When I was a kid, this old timer would tell me to ‘go west, young man.’ I took his advice and moved two towns over. That’s how I met the club and Christine.”
“Not everything needs to revolve around you, Whiskers.”
“I was trying to be helpful.”
“Thanks, step-dad.”
“You’re welcome, step-daughter. Now can you talk about something besides babies for a while?”
“No,” we say in unison.
Jared smiles and returns to looking at his phone.
“West isn’t bad,” Journey says while pushing Justice off of her. “I’m not a pillow.”
“I think I might deliver this kid any minute,” Justice grumbles, twisting awkwardly on the couch. “You should be nice to me in case I die during childbirth from whining too much.”
“I don’t think anyone’s ever died from that.”
“A pillow over the face,” I say. “That’s how whining can get someone killed.”
“I feel like crap,” Justice whines. “My vagina hurts. Is that normal, Dad?”
“Why are you asking me?”
“Because Mom isn’t here, and you’re the male version of her.”
Jared walks over and squats down next to the couch. “Are you having contractions?”
“How would I know?”
“Are you having cramps every few minutes?” Journey asks, fanning a forever overheated Justice.
“I don’t know. I feel tight in the gut.”
Jared and Journey share an uncertain look.
“Why don’t we go to the hospital just in case?” Journey asks, struggling to stand up.
Jared helps both women off the couch before turning to assist me. Once we're all standing, Justice waddles to the bathroom for a last-minute pee before heading to the car.
“I’m bleeding a little,” she cries, returning to the room. “Does that mean I’m dying?”
“No, it means this isn’t a practice run,” Jared says, taking her by the arm and steadying her on the way to the car.
I want to go with them, but someone needs to get the kids ready. Journey and I pack up everything important and head to the hospital where Court and Mom are already waiting.
“She’s in labor. Doctor said it won’t be long,” Jared says.
Mom nods. “Apparently, she’s been in labor all day.”
“Wow, so all that whining wasn’t just her being a queef,” I mutter. “Now I feel bad for mocking her.”
“Don’t,” Journey says, handing Ike to an arriving Donovan. “She needed the distraction. Let’s go see her.”
Following my oldest sister down the hallway toward the birthing room, I wish Emmett were already here. I’m nervous about watching Justice suffer. The more agitated I feel, the more my boy kicks my bladder.
“I’m scared,” I tell Journey before we enter.
“It’ll be okay. You were with me when I delivered. The Earlham women are aces at childbirth.”
Journey is the wisest person in my family, but fate mocks her sage words by having Justice scream at the top of her lungs.
“I’m out,” I whimper, shuffling away.
Journey takes my hand and uses her freakish strength to force me into the birthing room where Justice begs Court to kill her.
“I’ve accomplished all my goals and lived long enough,” she cries.
“It won’t be long,” Court tells his pissed wife.
“More drugs. So many drugs that I won’t be awake for the birth. Now, please, give me the good stuff.”
My poor sister never gets to enjoy her drugs. Instead, she screams her way through childbirth. I stand nearby, horrified by nature’s hatred of vaginas.
Henrietta is born screaming. The baby is so loud Justice finally shuts up and looks at her prize for enduring so much pain.
“She’s perfect,” she whispers and then smiles at Court. “I never want to have another one. Don’t make me do it again.”
While Court promises her vagina is safe, I stare at Henrietta with her red face, cone-shaped head, and mess of brown hair. She’s perfection, and I can’t look away. Journey finally guides me from the room and down the hall where everyone waits.
My sister makes the announcement about mom and baby doing well. I shuffle toward Emmett and melt in his embrace.
“I want to name our son West,” I whisper.
Wiping away my tears, Emmett only smiles and kisses me. I’m an emotional mess for the rest of the day and night. In fact, I’m restless until Justice arrives home with Henrietta.
I feel the same way when Journey goes into labor a month later after shooting hoops with Otto and Felix. I play nearby with Ike, totally oblivious to how her water breaks.
One minute, Journey’s strutting in triumph over defeating the boys. The next, she’s casually packing the car and calling Donovan. I prepare for another screaming horror show even though Journey chilled through Ike’s delivery.
My big sis never breaks a sweat this time around either. I hold a handheld fan on her face while she plays games on her phone and enjoys a glorious epidural. When it’s time to push, she’s just un-numb enough to give it a go.
Edith doesn’t cry much, seeming indifferent to the adults staring at
her. She does yawn a few times, but otherwise, she’s as cool as her mama. The entire trouble of childbirth is so below them.
As much as I want to chill like Journey when I arrive for my scheduled C-section, I cry about every little thing. I don’t want to get cut open. I think the doctor is up to no good. I even fear someone will splash me with acid as payback for being an awesome bully all my life. Emmett calms me down with a single sentence.
“I’m in charge of counting his fingers and toes,” he says while we wait for my surgery.
His expression pops the bubble of fear around me. I smile at how serious he takes his job.
“Will you cut the cord too?” I ask, caressing his cheek.
Emmett mimics me by running his fingers along my cheek. “If the doctor thinks he can’t handle it, I’ll jump in and give him a hand.”
“You know you’re special, right?”
“Of course. You chose me to go into the operating room instead of your mom and Journey. I’m the pick of the fucking litter.”
Emmett keeps me smiling through the C-section. He refuses to look away from my face until our boy cries nearby. We turn our gazes to bask in the beauty of our twelve-pound angel writhing on a table while nurses clean him.
“West is smaller than I imagined,” Emmett says, and I know for certain this man is my one true love.
Epilogue - Emmett
My first born is a butterball. West has fat cheeks, chubby arms and legs, and a big gut. He’s soon a walking talking butterball with a wild laugh and a big sloppy crush on his ma.
West is an easy first kid. He laughs a lot, plays well with his cousins, and is big on naps. A dream kid really.
By the time his brother is about to join us, I’m thinking I can handle a dozen kids as long as they’re like West. I even like his name.
Poppy talks me into letting her choose our next boy’s name too. I figure she’ll pick something solid since West is a solid stud name my kid will rock when he’s older.
“I want to honor the person who always makes me look great in comparison,” Poppy announces with the family one day. “No matter how awful, rude, or stupid I get, this person will open her big fat mouth and instantly improve my image.”