Page 10 of That Baby (That Boy 3)
I give her a hug. "I'm so happy for you, Ash. How's your job going?"
"It's good and it looks like I'll get to transfer to the school of my choice this fall. I may not be able to teach first grade, but I'll be in the elementary school in the area where we want to buy a house, so I'm hoping it all works out. What about you? The honeymoon sounded amazing and I heard you're breaking ground this week."
"We are. As soon as we get all the building permits, construction will start."
"My dad is really excited. Did you hear he and Mom are going to be staying with you?"
"Like tonight?"
"Yes, tonight, but also while Dad is traveling down here for business. Phillip told him it's silly for him to stay in a hotel. While the Diamonds are out of the country, Mom's going to travel with him. You're going to have to find some way to keep her busy at the office or she's going to be all up in your business."
"You think?"
"I know. I love my mother, but I wouldn't want her living with me. You know how she is. Everything has to be done her way. Look," Ashley says, "it's already started. See what she just did?"
"Did she just rearrange my water goblets?"
"Yep," Ashley says, giving me a pat on the back. "You won't know where anything is in your own house. And imagine what having her here will do to your sex life."
I wander nonchalantly over to the kitchen cabinet she just rearranged and take a peek. She has all the goblets lined up like little soldiers. She's moved the basic ones I use every day to a higher shelf and put the prettier ones on the first shelf.
I shrug off Ashley's comment because, really, I should use the prettier ones more often. And once we open presents, I'll have to rearrange them again anyway.
I'm sure she's just exaggerating.
They say every couple gets at least one memorable wedding gift. Sometimes it is good, sometimes it is bad, and sometimes it's downright ugly.
What we got doesn't fall into any of these categories. Sure, we got many amazing and thoughtful gifts. Gorgeous sets of china and stemware, everyday dishes, serveware, Christmas items, gourmet cookware, garage essentials, candlesticks, gadgets, table linens, sheets, and towels.
But our memorable thing is a Husker garden gnome. He's small, dressed in our team colors, and has a cute hat, but I'm pretty sure this gnome is up to no good.
I privately tell Phillip, "I'm not sure about the gnome. Did you see his shifty eyes? He's looking up at you like he's good but yet he still looks evil. I think he has a plan to take over the world. Can you imagine trying to bow to a gnome?"
"You're being silly. I think it's kinda cute. And, besides, it's a Husker gnome."
By the time we get all the presents open, the moms have drunk a fair amount of wine. They help me do the dinner dishes and quickly retire. Lori goes home. Ashley and Cooper can't seem to wait to get to their hotel, and Danny, Phillip, and the dads are smoking cigars in the hot tub.
I'm puttering around putting a few of the gifts away.
I decide to tackle the china, proudly opening Mom's cabinet while imagining her doing the very same thing after she and my dad were married.
I'm emotional and may have a few tears in my eyes as I reach for a vegetable bowl.
"Ahh!" I scream, because there, behind the bowl, stands the gnome.
Oh my gosh! The gnome moved!
Don't laugh. I'm serious.
After the gnome was opened and passed around the room, I set the gnome on the buffet table with some other home decor items--beautiful picture frames, crystal candlesticks, and some cool hurricane lanterns.
I judge the distance from the buffet to the table and wonder how he got there.
It's then that I realize the gnome is smirking at me.
And I know his expression has changed because I clearly remember pointing out his creepy smile.
I walk out to the deck and ask Phillip, "Hey, you know that Husker garden gnome? Do you remember it's facial expression?"
"What?" Mr. Mac says, scotch sloshing.
"I do," Danny says with a naughty smirk of his own. "It has an O-shaped mouth like he'd just been pleasured by a girl gnome."
They all laugh like it's the funniest thing they have ever heard.
I go back and look at the gnome. He's wearing the creepy smile again and he may have just winked at me.
I ignore the stupid gnome, grab the adorable football-shaped chip and dip bowl and a set of stacked stainless steel bowls and take them to the kitchen to use for the party tomorrow. Then I grab the mugs that will be perfect for Bloody Marys and put them in the dishwasher.
Time for bed.
But as I'm brushing my teeth, I can't stop thinking about the gnome.
I run back to the dining room and look the gnome in the eye. He responds with a blank stare--the kind of stare people give you when they are trying to pretend they don't care about something very important.
I throw some gift wrap over his head and go to bed.
February 4th
Like each other.
I'm getting ready for the party when Phillip's mom asks me to grab our new crockpot.
When I get to the dining room, I do a double take.
The wrapping paper is off the gnome's head and it's smooshed down next to his little round-toed boot--like all he's been doing since I covered him up was stomping on the paper.
I imagine the gnome moving around at night.
I realize I'm being ridiculous. Even if he did smash the paper, he didn't move very far.
I pick him up carefully, turning him over to study his legs. There's no space between them, just a line appearing to separate them. Really, it's just one big stub going into a large black mono-boot. More inspection shows that he has no knees. If he could walk, it would be more of a wobble.
This is crazy. There's no way the gnome could move on its own. Someone must have moved it.
But just to be sure, I put the gnome in the china cabinet and lock it for good measure. I reconsider his placement as I have visions of him doing the mono-legged stomp all over my new china pattern. I unlock the door, grab him, and shove him face up into the top drawer of the hutch--like he's in a little coffin--with my new formal flatware.
Then I grab the crockpot and go back to making cheese dip for the game.
Phillip's mom, who has been taking food down to the bar, comes back up and says, "JJ, do you have a dust rag? The bar, well, the basement is pretty dusty."
"Uh, sure," I say, handing her a dishtowel.
"Dusting only takes a minute," she tells me. "I'll have it cleaned up quick."
I instantly feel like a failure as a wife. My face gets hot and tears threaten. "Phillip was supposed to dust," I say to myself.
Mrs. D's hand touches mine. "You're barely settled."
I know what she's saying is true, but it feels like an excuse.
"Thanks. I'm gonna go change. Everyone should be here soon."
I'm on the way to our bedroom when Phillip comes up the stairs.
"You didn't dust the basement?"
"No, it wasn't that bad. Besides, why get it spotless when it's just going to get messed up at the party? So, are you ready to put on our shirts?"
"You need to tell your mom that you were in charge of dusting."
"No way! I don't want to get chewed out. Besides, this is our house and today is not about dusting. It's about telling everyone we love that we're expecting."
"You're right, Phillip. You're always right."
He laughs. "Except when you are."
"You're still right," I tease.
I strip off my sweats, throw on a pair of comfy ripped jeans, my Mac Mommy jersey, and then put a cardigan over the top of it.
"You look sexy," Phillip tells me, grabbing my ass.
"Are you going to say that when I have a stomach the size of a watermelon?"
"Absolutely," he says with such sincerity that I actually believe him.
I'm running around, finishing getting everyone settled with drink
s. Our friends, Joey and Chelsea, arrived just a few minutes ago, along with Danny's teammate and his wife, Marcus and Madison.
Phillip hands me a bubbly drink in a wine glass.
I give him a duh look.
"It's sparkling water and lime. Why don't you to sit, relax, and enjoy the game," he says.
"I'd rather sit on your lap, snuggled up with you."
"I think I can make that happen," he says, sitting in his favorite spot and pulling me onto his lap.
"They're newlyweds," Danny says. "They still like each other."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Lori asks.
"I just meant it's new," Danny replies. "I wasn't referring to our relationship. I still like you too."
She looks down at her growing baby bump and frowns. "You didn't ask me to sit on your lap."
Danny says in a patronizing tone, "Why don't we all sit on each other's laps. Save some space."
Tears threaten Lori's face as she stomps out of the room.
"Oh, jeez," he says. "She's so freaking sensitive. Now she's going to accuse me of saying we needed to save space because she's fat. I can't say anything right."
Mr. Diamond says, "But you're going after her, aren't you, son? To apologize."
"But I didn't do anything wrong!" Danny protests.
"You got her pregnant," his dad replies.
Danny takes a long drag of beer, looks longingly at the opening ceremonies playing on TV, and then he sets the beer down with a sigh. As he's walking away, he leans down and whispers to us, "Be glad you're not pregnant."
