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Chapter Four - Thanksgiving After Midnight


I woke up on the couch a while later as Lauren was putting a blanket over me. I stirred and she sat down on the floor by my head and gently ran her fingers through my hair. “I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m sorry,” she said in a hush, just above a whisper.

I blinked at her, the shape of her head haloed by the glow of the hall light. She was messy, hair hanging out of the pony tail on both sides in clumps, and she smelled like a mixture of cigarettes and turkey. “What time’s it?” I murmured.

“A little before eleven,” she replied quietly. “I’m sorry I’m so late.”

I snuffled and shifted my weight, “S’ok,” I mumbled.

“Are you hungry?”

I nodded.

“I know it’s really late, but… will you have midnight Thanksgiving with me?” she asked, an apologetic look on her face.

I nodded.

“Ok. I’ll go get it ready.” She smiled, kissed my forehead as she got up, and left the living room.

I gave myself a couple minutes blinking at the light and reorienting myself to everything that’d gone on earlier before getting up. When I went out to the kitchen, Lauren looked up. “You could’ve stayed resting, sweetie, I was gonna bring it out to you.”

I shrugged and leaned against the door frame as she put an acorn squash into the microwave and opened the cupboard for a couple plates.

“Do you think I’m gonna be a bad father?”

She put the plates down on the table. “What?”

“Do you think the universe thinks I’m gonna be a bad father and maybe that’s why the juju isn’t working?” I asked.

Lauren’s eyes softened. “Nick… No. No. I think you’re gonna be a wonderful father.” She put the bowl of spinach down on the table and came over, running her hands over my shoulders. “You’re going to be the best father.”

I took her hands in mine and held them against my chest, staring down at them. They’d been manicured while I was gone with Jordan, back in LA, but the night had been rough on them and one of them was chipped. I liked her like that, though, just a little bit less than perfect. It was endearing. Like extra endearing. I took a deep breath, “Are you mad at me?”

“Mad at you? For what?”

“For not being able to make you pregnant or whatever?”

“Baby.” She said the word like it was absurd I even thought such a thing. And I guess it was, but it’s hard to tell sometimes between when someone’s disappointed about something and when they’re disappointed in someone. I’ve never been particularly good at that. I’ve always thought that if someone was upset, it was because of something I’d done. That was something I’d learned to believe when I was a kid because I got blamed for everything under the sun. I still do by my family. Lauren shook her head, though, and her eyes searched mine, “Honey, no. I’m not mad at you for that. I could never be mad at you for that.”

“Disappointed?”

“Not by you.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not why you stayed late at the food kitchen?”

Lauren shook her head, “I honestly just lost track of time after a bit. It was so busy. I wish you’d come with me. It was really nice, the people were so thankful for a hot meal and they’re such sweet people.” She rubbed my arm, “You would’ve liked it a lot.”

“Maybe next year.”

The microwave beeped, signaling the squash was done, and Lauren trailed her hands off my chest and went to fetch the squash. I watched as she pulled it out and cut it into halves and put one on each of the plates before sprinkling cinnamon and nutmeg over them and going into the fridge for the turkey breast she’d cooked and had me carve earlier in the day. When she opened the fridge and pulled out a spinach salad, though, I couldn’t stop myself.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” She looked up.

I took the bowl of spinach from her. “Can we skip the spinach tonight?”

She stared up at me, “But the zinc is good for --”

I held up my hand to stop her from talking. “Lo… we need to talk.”

The instant the words were out of my mouth, her eyes started to glisten. She took a deep breath. “I had a feeling this was coming,” she said thickly. She paused. Then said, “Ok.”

I took a deep breath too, put the bowl of spinach on the table. “I think… I think we need to take a break. You know. From trying.”

Lauren’s eyes filled with tears.

“Don’t cry,” I pleaded. But she did. Those big tears slipped over her lashes and streamed down her face and she seemed to crumble right there in front of me. I caught her up in my arms, pulling her into my chest as she fell apart, pressing her face into my shirt and her shoulders shook. “Baby, it’s okay, don’t cry,” I said, patting her hair. “I just… I think it’s too much pressure. On both of us. And I just think maybe it’ll be better if we just… take a month or two off.”

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I didn’t mean to pressure you and make you think I was mad at you or disappointed in you. I just wanna have a baby with you. I wanna make you happy and I wanna - I wanna be a mom so much.” I could feel her tears through my shirt.

“I know,” I said. “And I wanna be a dad and have a baby with you but I think we need a break.”

Lauren nodded against my chest. “Okay,” she choked.

“Okay.” I replied. I rubbed her back.

“Okay,” she said again, and she gingerly pulled away, turning quickly to stay busy with getting dinner ready.

I sighed. “Do you need me to do anything?”

“You wanna get the cranberry out? It’s in the fridge,” she answered, voice still thick from crying.

“A’ight,” I answered. I pulled it out and started putting it on the plates. She sniffled. I felt bad I’d made her cry. I hated it when Lauren cried. So, to make her laugh, I said, “So… while you were gone, I went to the galleria, like for Black Friday. It was batshit crazy up there.”

“I’m sure it was,” she said, nodding.

“I scared a Santa.”

“You what?”

“Santa sat next to me on a bench, I was watching these two chicks bitchfight over an ugly sweater at the Gap, and this Santa sits next to me and I just looked at him and I blurt out, Alls I want for Christmas is to knock up my wife! And the poor guy, he looked traumatized, he gets up and runs off,” I laughed.

Lauren laughed, too, and swiped her eyes. “Poor Santa.”

“Yeah. Then this kid like stole pizza from Sbarro, and I paid for it ‘cos he looked hungry or whatever.” I put the lid back on the cranberry sauce.

“Really?” Lauren came over and put freshly warmed turkey on each of the plates, then turned to pull a little sauce pan with peas off the stove. “That was nice of you.”

“Yeah,” I said, “Banking juju.”

She laughed. “Nawh, you’re just sweet is all.”

“I try,” I answered.

She spooned the peas onto the plates and rubbed my back as she turned to put the pan back onto the stove. Stuffing, potato, and gravy and we were in business. We carried the plates out to the dining room and she got a bottle of sparkling pomegranate juice and we lit a couple candles and put little mini-plates of Thanksgiving down for the dogs, and then we sat down at the table.

She lifted her fork, but I put my hand over hers. “Wait,” I said, “We gotta say what we’re thankful for. I’ll go first.” She put her fork down, and stared at me, a little smile on her face. “I’m thankful for the Buccs, even if they don’t win,” I said, “And Nacho and Igby and Mulder and the Boys and Jordan and the fans and everybody in management and Mike and --”

Lauren laughed, “We’re gonna be here all night.”

I grinned, “But most of all, I’m thankful that I am blessed by having such a beautiful, caring, wonderful woman like you in my life, who makes me have Thanksgiving at twelve-o-fucking-clock at night because she’s busy feeding the hungry and saving the world like fucking Wonder Woman.”

Lauren blushed, “I’m not Wonder Woman.”

“No but we need to get you that costume ‘cos I’ma need to get me laid by Wonder Woman sometime. Add that to your list of things I want for Christmas.”

“Okay,” she laughed.

“Anyways… yeah. So. I’m thankful for you and for the years I’ve had with you already and the years I’m gonna have with you. Whatever they bring us, as long as there’s an us, we’ll be okay. I’m thankful for the knowledge of that. Okay. Your turn.”

Lauren laughed, “I don’t know if I can follow that up.”

“Give it a whirl,” I said.

“Okay. Well. I’m thankful for the furbabies and the security that keeps you safe and the Boys and my friends and my Daddy and Alex and everything we have. And, like you, I’m most thankful for you. Because you understand when I get crazy about things and you bring me back to earth when I need to be, and I’m thankful that when we do have a family, however we form our family, that I know I can trust you to be a good parent and role model, that you’ll be gentle and sweet and kind. And I’m thankful that you’re thankful for me.” She smiled.

I smiled back. “Okay,” I said, “Now we can eat.”

So we dug in, and it tasted amazing. Something about eating at midnight made it extra magical and it felt like it was a holiday for just Lauren and I, like we were the only people in all the whole world. I held her hand in mine through most of it, using my left hand to eat just so I could feel the warmth of her fingers wrapped between my own.

“We should get a Christmas tree tomorrow,” I said when we were almost finished eating.

“Okay,” she replied, nodding.

“Like a real one.”

“Okay,” she nodded again.

When we finished up eating, we carried our plates out and shoved them in the dishwasher and put away the food in the fridge. She was washing out the wine glasses we’d used for the pomegranate juice; they special ones that were from our wedding and therefore were extra special and we always handwashed. She looked beautiful, washing them, her hands covered in soap suds and her hair hanging down the side of her face where she’d undone the remnants of the ponytail at last. I stepped up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, pressing my mouth against her neck softly.

“Hmm,” she hummed as I left a little trail of kisses up her neck to her ear and took a deep breath of the smell of her.

“I love you,” I said quietly into her ear.

“I love you,” she replied.

“I’m thankful for the way you smell,” I said in a husky voice, the words rumbling from deep in my throat. “And the softness of your skin… and I’m thankful… for… your breasts...” I ran my hands up to them, cupping them gently, rubbing them with my palms. She melted into me like butter, a little moan escaping her chest, and she put the wine glasses down in the sudsy water. “And I’m thankful for… the way you taste…” I whispered, and I kissed her neck again. “And…” my voice was extra heavy now, I kissed back up her neck again to her ear, sucked gently on her earlobe, “I’m thankful for… the way it feels when I’m inside of you and our bodies are all tangled and there ain’t nothin’ between our souls but our skin and bones and...”

She turned to me quickly, our mouths meeting as she engulfed me hungrily, silencing me mid-sentence.




About an hour later, we were laying in the dark in the bedroom, sprawled across the bed, our bodies covered in sweat. “Oh my God,” she gasped, “That that incredible.”

“I know,” I agreed. I pulled her into me, running my toes up her legs, still wanting to feel her skin with my own. Like I was craving her after months of having routine, predictable, boring sex. “I missed this,” I said.

“I did too,” she answered. “God you’re amazing.”

“So are you.”

She snuggled into my chest. “You know… I was scared, too.”

“What?” I was starting to feel sleepy.

“About being a mom,” she said. “You asked me earlier if I thought you’d be a bad father, if that was why I was talking about the bad juju. It’s not you I was worried about. I’m worried I’ll be a bad mother.”

I shook my head, “It’s impossible for you to be bad at anything.”

Lauren laughed. “You’re silly.”

“It’s true. You’ll be a great mom.”

“I just worry because it’s not like I had a great example growing up, I never really had a mother, you know? I’m not even sure how moms are supposed to be. Like, I don’t want to be June Cleaver.”

“You’re way too hot to be June Cleaver,” I mumbled.

“Barbara Billingsly had a bangin’ body for her time,” Lauren commented.

I laughed. “This is exactly why I love you.”

“What?”

“You… we’re laying here talking about The Beav’s mom’s bangin’ body.”

Lauren laughed, “You know who else’s body was bangin’?”

“Who?”

“That girl from I Dream of Jeannie. What’s her name?”

“Barbara Eden?”

“Yes!” She exclaimed. We both laughed.

We continued on, chatting about hotties from old sitcoms until we both fell asleep.




The next morning when I woke up, Lauren was already out of bed, her side of the bed cold. I blinked in the sunlight and wandered into the bathroom. In the trashbin was an unopened pregnancy test, the one we’d bought for the next testing day, and beside it was the planner she’d been using to keep track of her cycle. I turned to the door to see the whiteboard calendar had also been erased. I closed my eyes and exhaled long and slow. I could feel the pressure melting away, but also something else… something sad; a deep ache, like something inside me had broken.