They say pregnancy takes forever, and it also goes by in a flash.
The fact that I can’t see my feet is proof both parts of that statement are accurate. Somehow life went on fast forward and my last trimester showed up out of nowhere. Yet, this pregnancy is dragging along at a snail’s pace, and I’m pretty sure it’s never going to end.
At least I can see my toes if I lean over far enough. Which reminds me, I need to get a pedicure since I can’t get to those scraggly things to fix the chipped paint. Maybe Julie and I can go this weekend. Jack can come over and hang out with Oli now that football season is over, and we can invite Joie so she can drive. Right now, when I’m this huge, it takes a village.
Over the weeks, things have gotten less strained with both my brother and my child.
Jack began his campaign to get back in my good graces almost immediately after his faux pas at my wedding dinner. It started with an apology phone call where I told him he was forgiven, but apparently, it didn’t alleviate his guilt. Since then, I’ve been the recipient of regular phone calls checking in, invitations for us to come have dinner, and offers to babysit. I’m not sure when Jack will be able to forgive himself, but that’s not my concern. He really is the best big brother a girl could ever ask for, but sometimes he doesn’t think it through before spouting off hurtful words. Sometimes I wonder if Hank is rubbing off on him too much. From what I understand, a similar issue almost ended he and Joie’s relationship before it even began, so I have no problem with him taking some time to work through his own guilt.
Plus, it means I might get that pedicure this weekend. Julie and I could use the time together. Since she and Ace went fishing a while back, things have gotten so much better. I don’t know what happened while they were out there, and no matter how much I ask, neither of them will tell me. But Julie seemed to settle somehow. She started smiling more. She started turning in her homework. It wasn’t every time, but it was a definite improvement.
She still has her teenage moments, but she’s not failing anymore. I feel like I’m breathing better because she’s breathing better.
A knock at the door has me looking away from my toes and around the house. Picking up has gone on the wayside for the last oh, dozen weeks or so. Whoever it is better not expect to be invited in.
“Oli!” I yell, hoping he’ll answer for me. Of course, he doesn’t respond. I have no idea what he’s doing, but my guess is he fell asleep sprawled out on his bed. Today was his farm day, and he’s always zonked when he gets home.
Grumbling to myself as I waddle to the front of the house, I swear if it’s someone asking if I know Jesus, I’m going to be cursing them to hell for making me walk all that way. Thirty weeks pregnant is no joke.
I don’t remember being this big when I was pregnant before. Maybe it’s my age. Maybe it’s the tacos. Maybe everything really is bigger in Texas, including pregnant women.
Case in point, the other day I was walking around the grocery store when a lovely older woman who happened by said, “Don’t worry, Mama. You’re almost there.”
I looked at her, exhaustion written all over my face and said, “I have ten weeks to go.”
Her eyes immediately got wide and she responded with, “Bless you. I’ll be praying for you.”
If it wasn’t so damn funny, I might have been offended, but that’s the reaction when people find out how much longer I have to go.
My mumbles are replaced by confusion when I open the door and see Ace and Pedro standing on my stoop. “What? Did you forget your key?”
“Hello, ma’am,” Pedro says politely. “We’re here to speak to Oli. Is he available?”
My heart drops. “Oh god. What happened.”
Ace’s face morphs into one of compassion, realizing why I’m starting to breath heavy. Anyone coming to my front door asking about Oli in an official capacity is my worst nightmare.
“Nothing is wrong, babe. This is a good thing. Just humor us, okay? Is Oli available?”
I furrow my brow. “Yeeeeees,” I respond slowly, thoroughly confused by what’s happening, but now settled in the knowledge I need to just play along for whatever reason.
The two men walk through the door and I close it behind them. That’s when I realize they both smell good. Not like they just finished milking, but like they showered and put on cologne. And they’re wearing fresh clothes in the middle of the day. Now I’m really confused. “Listen. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m willing to roll with it except for one thing.”
Ace takes that moment to give me a quick kiss hello. “What’s that?”
“Oli is asleep on his bed, and I’m not waddling my way back there. You guys are going to have to break out of character for a few seconds to get him yourself.”
They both laugh as I do my best impression of a Weeble on my way back to the couch. I weeble and wobble, but I don’t fall down.
Not until I sit down anyway. I get about halfway before my legs give out and I plop onto the couch. It takes me a few seconds to get situated and put my feet up. Seriously. I have ten more weeks of this? How big can my stomach get? I’m already defying all sorts of scientific laws with my ability to stay standing without falling over.
By the time I’m somewhat comfortable, because who is honestly ever comfortable at six months pregnant, the guys are already back in the room with me. Oli is rubbing his face like he just woke up, hair sticking up every which way. He sits next to me while Ace and Pedro take the love seat together. I can tell Ace really wants to sit next to me so he can touch my stomach. He loves rubbing my baby bump. Maybe it’s more like a baby mountain at this point.
I know most pregnant women hate it when people touch their stomach, but I love it. My skin itches too bad and that part of my body aches non-stop, so it’s like getting belly rubs. I may as well be a cat with how I practically purr when someone touches me there. It’s not strange at all when I moan my appreciation in public. Nope. Not at all.
Getting down to business, Pedro sits on the edge of the couch to begin. “Oliver, we’re here because we want to talk about the work you do on the farm.”
“Don’t call me Oliver,” he says quickly, startling Pedro.
“What?”
“I don’t like Oliver. I like Oli.”
I bite my lip to stifle a giggle. Obviously, no one told Oli he needed to play along with whatever charade the guys have going. Pedro, though, takes it like a champ.
“I’m sorry. I knew that and called you by the wrong name anyway. I’ll make sure to call you Oli from now on.”
Putting my hand over my mouth, I’m still trying not to laugh. I have no idea why that was funny to me, but it was. Probably because the two men are trying so hard not to break character and leave it to Oli to throw the whole thing off.
“Anyway, we’re here to talk about your work.”
“We’ve been very impressed with you, Oli,” Ace jumps in. “You’re good with the animals and you’ve been a huge help in the milking parlor.”
Oli’s face lights up. “Cause I like the bessies. And they like me. They always lick me when I hook them up.”
I love seeing my son animated like this. Who knew after so many years of worrying about finding him a place in the world, it would end up being on a farm milking cows.
“Well, you do a fine job with them,” Pedro adds. “And since you’re graduating from high school next month, we’d like to offer you a paying job.”
My jaw drops. They want to hire Oli? To be a real employee?
My eyes snap over to Ace’s and he’s got a huge smile on his face. He nods at me, and I know that’s his way of saying this is real. It’s really happening. My boy has shown he has value to the business and his bosses want to continue building on those skills. Knowing they don’t offer jobs to everyone makes me so proud I honestly think I could burst.
Tears well up in my eyes. This is like a dream come true. I open my mouth to respond, but Oli beats me to it.
“Like I’ll get money?”
Pedro sniggers while Ace answers. “Yes. But there’s more to it than that. One of the requirements is you have to stay in the school program to keep this job.”
Oli crinkles his nose and drops his head on the back of the couch. “But I’m almost done with school,” he whines.
“I know,” Ace continues. “But it’s not the same kind of classes, Oli. Instead of going to school every day and coming out to the farm two days a week, you’ll be at the farm every day and go to school two days a week.”
“Do I have to read books at school? I hate reading books. They’re boring,” he grumbles.
“Not as far as I know. The classes you’ll be taking are for adults, which is what you’ll be. Mrs. Johnson will teach you things like grocery shopping and how to pay all your bills. It’s not at all like the classes you take now.”
I bat away a stray tear that rolls down my cheek. Ace glances over briefly, but when he realizes I’m happy, he smiles and returns his focus on Oli.
“There’s more, Oli.”
How could there possibly be more? This time, Pedro answers my silent question.
“One of the perks of being one of our farm hands is you get to live in the bunk house.”
I gasp, while Oli says, “Really? I get to live with the other ranch hands?”
Pedro nods. “Yep. Not right away. You need to get a good six months of work under your belt before we’ll move you in, so you can prove what a good worker you are. But if you do a good job, right after Christmas, we’ll have a bunk just for you.”
“And since your mom and Julie and I will be living in the new house, we’ll be really close if you need us.”
So much for that lone tear. Now a bunch of them are cascading down my face. Not only is my son going to have a real job, he’s going to have a place to live that’s close enough for me to still guide him, but far enough away I won’t be doing it alone anymore.
A sob breaks free and Ace is immediately next to me, arms wrapped around me, charade forgotten.
“These are happy tears, right?” he whispers in my ear, one arm wrapped around my shoulders while the other hand rubs my stomach.
I nod vigorously while getting my breathing under control. “Am I dreaming?”
I feel the deep rumble of his chuckle. “Nope. You are wide awake, my love.”
“Thank you,” I say, because I can’t think of anything else. “Thank you for loving me. For loving us. For giving us everything we never dreamed of.”
“Don’t do that,” he responds. “Don’t thank me. Oli did this all on his own. The rest, that’s just me taking care of my family.”
I nod again and sink into his chest. I didn’t realize until this exact moment how much tension I was still holding on to. But finally, finally I feel like I can relax. We’re going to be okay. All of us are going to be okay.