December 24, 2006
It was cold in Binghamton, New York. Christmas Eve parties were mostly my father's thing, but my mother is just as dedicated to throwing parties as he is. And there were still plenty of family lounging around the grand house my parents own. I don't understand how they manage. The cold is so sharp and frostily jarring -- uncomfortable to begin with. The snow was abundant and maybe to an excessive point, but they didn't mind. They said it was all in the spirit of Christmas. That meant they wouldn't be staying in New York too long. Until maybe the flowers start to grow again if they're feeling the wait.
I'm in the kitchen conversing with my grandmother. The white side of my family tends to be the ones that hold themselves with high standards, but my black side from my mom's are just the same if not even more prestigious and sophisticated. They're either lawyers, professors, owners of a private practice, or businessmen. However, there are a few who took a more artistic approach to life. So there are musicians, artists, and maybe even play directors. My father's mother used to be a surgeon, and she's retired just two years ago and misses it more than anything. But she's been a workaholic all her life and insists she has to let it go.
"Another baby? We just had another," I say with a laugh, shaking my head at my grandmother's persistence, urging that I have another baby because they're just so cute. She's much different than my Nonna, who likes to warn me about childbirth, and she did right before the first one came along. I haven't seen her in months but I'm hoping she shows up tonight.
"They are so cute," she gushes with a sweet smile, short brown hair combed back from her face, red blouse fitted around her torso. Every now and then I glance at her choice of accessories. A sparkly Santa pin and elf earrings. She looks festive and happy.
"They are also my little pains in the butt," I joke lightly. But my lips pout then, thinking about it. "But you're right. We make beautiful babies."
"Mumma.."
I turn around to find Amari just at my legs, wide eyes bright green and staring up at me with a face that preludes her want for something she knows I might say no to. Her chubby little hand clutching the fabric of my red dress. She's fiddles with her curls and shoves them from her face with her other hand. The four year old inherited a sort of cheekiness that can only be predominantly seen in her dad. She got a mixture of our noses with my face shape, my hair, and lips. While her eyes are virtually a copy of her dad's. But even as cute as she is, she's getting a little too spoiled.
I blame her father.
Her little Mrs. Clause dress with the red, velvet fabric and white puffs outlining the seam was my idea. Not having a care in the world what she wears, Amari agreed to it as long as she got to wear her sparkly silver sneakers. Only God knows where I found them because I can't remember and she's obsessed with them.
"Yes, Mari," I smile at her, stroking my hand through her hair and even bending down to my knees to fix the white hairpin pinning her fluffy curls from her eyes. She pouts her lips.
As a small baby curl falls over her forehead, she says, "Daddy said that I'm not allowed to have anymore cookies. And I said please! Lotta times."
"How many have you eaten, sugar?" I tease her already, knowing where this is going. I check her hair and make sure it's properly pinned before pulling away and squeezing her cheek lightly.
Her eyebrows furrow in thought. "I dunno."
"Probably a lot of them, right?"
"I think," she shrugs. "But I want mooore!" She whines, huffing and doing a little hop.
I purse my lips and frown, thinking to myself. "If you get tummy ache from eating so many of them, you'll feel icky. You have to wait till dinner, honey. You'll be bouncing off the walls if we let you eat anymore," I mumble the last part, and Amari groans, one that signals a persistent cry. When I see where this is going, I firmly, calmly state, "Amari...let's not do this. You know why you can't have more. Tummy aches are no fun. Let's not have that, please."
Her glassy eyes, even though her face portrays utter annoyance, are wide and looking for compromise. In her own little four year old mind. "Okay, mumma. Can I please have some water?" She asks then.
Amari can go from a little fit to compromise so quickly, that sometimes I think she's just too lazy to throw the fit in the first place. I send her a soft smile, leaning forward to place a kiss on her cheek and deciding to stand even though my feet hurt in these heels. "Of course you can."
My grandmother, Caroline, who's been watching the whole thing says, "C'mon sweetie, I'll show you where all the pretty Christmas cups are."
I stand while Amari grabs Grandma Caroline's hand and they go to the other side of the kitchen to grab some water from the fridge. Crossing my arms over my chest, I glance around the large, marbled kitchen that is occupied by a few people. When Amari returns, I take her hand as she sips her water from a sippy cup with printed boxes of presents and toys on it. My parents really prepared for everything.
We make our way to the living room where many of my family members are seated around, either standing or sitting, drinking wine and talking quietly, collective chatter mixing with the music from the pianist my parents hired for the night.
"There she is," my father suddenly says, looking between me and Amari and then back to my Nonna.
My eyes widen in excitement and I gently let go of Amari's hand to embrace Nonna in the biggest bear hug I've ever given. She groans in my tight embrace, muttering, "Get off me. You might kill me."
She hasn't aged at all. No surprise. Ever since she's gotten sick, everyone in the family has been on her health twenty four seven. She hates it. But it's a great thing. I grin happily, as the family nearby who were previously involved in a conversation with her watch with a smile. "I missed you so much," I whisper to her, and just as she's about to respond, Amari skips in our direction.
"Hiii Nonna!" She greets happily, earning a huge grin from Nonna herself. She loves Amari more than her own life, always asking about her over the phone, sending her presents even when there's no special occasion. She's yet to meet our six-month year-old.
"Hi, precious lil Cupcake!" She shouts loudly, unable to contain herself as she bends down to embrace Amari. I take notice of her attire. She's dressed in white pants and a red knitted sweater, dyed brown curls down to her shoulders and pinned back. She picks up Amari and immediately starts a conversation with her, asking her what she's getting front Santa and what not. My heart fills with happiness.
I find eyes with my husband. He stands not too far with Vanessa in his arms, who occasionally tugs at his red tie, and he readjusts it just to have her mess with it again. She lies her head on his shoulder, brown hair that seems to be less textured than Amari's was at that age, curling around her ears and the back of her neck. It's easily messy and I can see that by the cricked flowery pins, Harry was careless with her hair and let her mess it up. Her little dress that matches Amari's and white pants are tucked beneath his arm, the black shoes nearly falling off as I can see even from here, Nessa trying to take them off with her tiny feet.
While he listens to my uncle speak, my heart squeezes when he looks down at Nessa and tries to fix her flowery pins at either side of her head, pouting his lips down at her, cooing words of endearment to calm her because she's getting impatient. He kisses her head and rubs her small back. Nessa still continues to want to kick off her shoes.
"So where's that hubby of yours?" Nonna questions as we enter our own conversation. Amari walks off to her dad, both of the girls now equally asking for his attention.
I smile at her and point to him briefly. "Right over there. I believe there's someone you haven't met yet."
Her eyes widen and she gasps, shouting, "Vanessa?!" She looks to me only for a few seconds, rushing off to pester my husband. I follow her with a laugh, watching as he turns to look at her with surprise, amusement masking it as he carefully hands Nessa to her after receiving a messy kiss on the cheek.
"You both are going to kill me! With all these beautiful children. Jesus Christ," she awes, looking down at Nessa, who isn't too bugged about being taken from her daddy. She stares up at Nonna, bright big eyes making my Nonna nearly melt with affection.
Much of the family is watching now. To many of them, Nessa is a new face since we live so far away from them we only get this chance to be together every several months on special occasions. Nonna is gushing and almost in tears, censoring her cursing for the night. Amari, now in her dad's arms, wraps her arms around his neck and cuddles him. They're both daddy's girls and there's nothing I can do about it. They love me just as much but there's something about their dad that makes them need more coddling.
"Mummaaa," Amari calls needily from Harry's arms, reaching out her hand for me to take. I walk towards them, getting Harry's attention. He looks to me just as I grab Amari's little hand. She loves seeing us together, always figuring that if she gets to cuddle with both of us, even better.
"Hi," Harry whispers, offering his other arm to sling around my waist. I smile while leaning into him, whispering a small "hi back". He leans down to kiss me in a quick, soft peck for a few seconds then pulls me close to his side.
Amari tiredly whispers, "Hi, too."
Harry and I glance at her instantly, breaking out into a laugh. "Tired, bug?" He asks her gently. She nods and leans her head against his shoulder, pulling her hand from mine to suck her thumb.
"The sugar rush is over it seems," I sigh, reaching over to stroke her hair. "She hasn't eaten anything but those frosted cookies. She'll wake with a belly ache."
He kisses her temple, whispering, "She can take a little nap. We'll wake her when the food is ready."
So, Amari takes her little nap in a room nearby while the adults chat in the living room. Vanessa sits on my lap, legs bouncing and letting her play with a soft toy she bites into just to keep her busy. Her tiny little hands grip the toy, chewing onto it, drool all over the rubber and her hands. Harry sits beside me, arm behind me around the back of the smooth brown sofa. On my other side is Nonna, who can't stop playing with and making faces at Nessa.
"She is adorable," she then says to me. "She looks so much like Harry. Has your eyes and your hair. Less curly, though. Amari looks more like you with Harry's eyes. Gorgeous babies," she concludes.
Looking down at Nessa, I smile, wiping away the drool from her mouth with a napkin and pulling the toy from her briefly to wipe her little hands. "I had to teach Harry how to work with their hair. Poor girls had to go out with their hair dryer than a desert when I wasn't around," I tell her with mockery, knowing Harry could hear me.
He turns to look at me, asking, "Talking about me?"
Nonna remarks, "I promise all bad things."
"I forgot how much I missed you, Nonna," Harry retorts sarcastically, traces of humor present.
"I missed seeing you guys, I guess. Even though I saw y'all a few months ago. Can you believe it's been ten years since that dreadful summer?" She gushes with dry humor, pretending to wipe her eyes.
I roll my eyes, unable to stop myself from grinning just as Nessa gurgles and whines, and I stand her on my lap with the support of my hands. Fixing her little dress and straightening the fabric out. "You mean that summer I met my husband, who I have two kids with that you love more than anything in the world?"
"I guess."
"You loved us then," Harry sighs with false sadness, attention averting to my mother who hands him a glass of wine, adding, "Thank you." Nobody loves Harry more than my mother and father, who took a liking to him the second they met him at Nonna's house a few days after Nonna's first fainting spell that summer ten years ago.
Nonna snickers. "You two were a hassle. Absolute hassle. I'm just glad you're making beautiful children. So when's the next baby coming?"
I laugh softly, moving away my hands so Harry can wipe off the drool all over Nessa's hands with the napkin he grabbed nearby. "No more babies right now," I insist. "We barely get any sleep as it is."
"Well, how many do you guys want?" She asks us.
"Eight," Harry jokes, sending me a quick wink. Nonna scoffs in return, and then he adds, "In all seriousness, I really want a boy with some time."
"Oh my gosh, a mini Harry," my other grandmother interjects. Thus, grabbing the attention of everyone else seated at the living room. This becomes an open discussion.
My mother interjects. "If we start bombarding them now with new cribs and newborn clothes, we might be able to convince them," she muses, the living room irrupting into soft laughs and chuckles.
"Oh no, mom...two weeks before I even knew I was pregnant with Amari you sent me boxes of clothes and furniture," I exasperate with amusement, everyone else entertained by the conversation.
"I'm a doctor! I sensed it!" Shes swears, causing the room full of people to laugh.
Harry adds, "Not to mention a week before I proposed to her daughter, I went to the jewelers and bumped into her there. I was convinced she was buying the ring for us, too."
Again, laughs collectively air out while my mother rolls her eyes with humor at the topic of conversation. Nessa makes a soft noise, turning her little body to tiredly rest on my shoulder. She lets out a soft cry, and I can tell that she's hungry and tired. I look down at her, pouting and cooing soft words to help her calm down. I turn to Harry, who just set his glass of wine down. As the conversation takes a turn and disperses, I lean to Harry and quietly ask, "Baby, where'd you put Nessa's bag?"
"It's in one of the guest rooms. Amari's sleeping in it. I'll come with you," he stands just as I do. We excuse ourselves after I whisper to Nonna that Nessa's tired. She quickly pouts, but says her goodnight and falls into a conversation with my other grandmother across from her.
We walk down the halls and up the stairs where the room is. Harry pushes the door open slowly, trying to avoid making a lot of noise. Amari is curled up in the middle of the king-sized bed. Curly hair frizzy and messed from her tossing around in her sleep. Light blue walls and high ceilings, gold chandelier with clear gems hanging from the height. My parents always loved to be extravagantly too much.
Harry grabs the light pink bag from one of the chairs, bringing it over to us as I sit at the edge of the bed. Nessa starts to cry, and with effort we try to calm her before she can wake up Amari. But, with Amari being a light sleeper, she wakes with no problem. Her soft, tired voice calls out, "Daaddy...I need to pee pee."
He turns to look over at her from his seat next to me. "Hey, bug. You didn't sleep too long at all," he reaches over to rub her foot, which she had kicked off her sparkly sneakers a while ago. "C'mon. I'll take you to the loo."
Amari groggily sits up, ushering the covers off of her and hopping down to the floor. She walks to Harry as he stands, readily grabbing his hand and awaiting for his lead. All while I'm holding a quiet yet fussy Nessa, who's gripping the collar of my dress. I've been trying to breastfeed her less, only every now and then to try and get her to eat baby food. She's been more problematic than Amari was with the transitioning issue. At six months, Amari had no issues.
Just a minute after I've pushed the strap of my dress down my shoulder and Nessa's being fed, the bedroom door opens to reveal Harry by himself, without Amari. I frown. "Where'd she head off to?"
"She's with Nonna. Your dad's playing the guitar and they just started roasting marshmallows by the fireplace," he explains with a sigh, plotting down next to me. His eyes fall to Nessa, and he softly brushes his fingers across her fringe of thickening, curling hair. He then leans over and places a chaste kiss on my bare shoulder. Both of us comfortable in our silence, watching Nessa adoringly.
"Why aren't you down there? Might do a jam session with my dad?" I tease quietly, turning to look at him.
He rolls his eyes with a soft grin plastered on his face. Ever since Harry told my father he could play the guitar, he's been pestering him non-stop about jamming together. Harry doesn't respond, only continues to gently caress Nessa's chubby little cheeks. "My dad and Max called," he tells me suddenly.
I raise an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
Harry nods. "They're opening presents early. My dad got Max a Playstation 3," he chuckles. "Kid's going to lose it."
I smile, knowing Max's older now, and yet still as energetic as ever. Hair that used to be light turned darker and longer, nearly covering his eyes. He won't cut it whatsoever. My free hand reaches up to touch Harry's cheek, leaning over to kiss him softly. I try to pull away shortly after, but he leans into me some more, pressing repeated kisses to my lips. "I love you. And I'm sorry your dad and Max couldn't be here today."
He shakes his head, saying, "It's fine", and we both turn to Nessa who pulls away from my breast, starting to cough. I pout. "Oh no. You okay there, sweetie?"
"I'll take her," Harry offers, reaching over to take her. When he does, holding her to him and letting her rest her head on his shoulder, softly patting her back, I fix the strap of my dress with a soft breath.
"I hope I don't leak through this dress," I mumble.
Harry chuckles. "I'll do a bird call as our signal. Let you know if it's happening."
"You're such a loser," I laugh, giving him a quick kiss before standing to my feet. "Anyways, Nessa's pretty tired. She might fall asleep in a bit. Just put pillows around her on the bed."
He nods. "I'll stay with her for a bit. If she's not completely asleep and I leave her, she'll cry."
"That's because she's a daddy's girl," I roll my eyes with a smile. "So is Amari. They're obsessed with you."
"Hey, they love you just as much," He reassures me softly, glancing down at Nessa who lets out a burp, nearly falling asleep as it is.
"I know. I'm not worried about that. But there's something about their dad that they love. Other than the fact that you spoil them," I remark with a raised eyebrow, and he scoffs playfully. "You're so strong, comfy, and safe. I can see why."
Cheekily, he then retorts, "So...are you a daddy's girl, too?"
With a quick scoff, I lean down and kiss his cheek, whispering against his skin, "Of course I am."
I leave him with Nessa and join everyone else downstairs. Hearing the faint sounds of my dad's guitar and the pianist, playing a soft holiday tune while some people sing along. Amari is singing with Nonna, who surprisingly is singing to begin with. Only for my kids, obviously.
Taking a seat next to my mother, I cross my legs and turn slightly to her. Her curly hair alike to mine is tied up into a bun, makeup flawless as usual. My mother turns away from watching the fireplace and other kids roast their marshmallows with supervision. "How is it...over there in England? Are you guys doing okay?"
I nod. "Yeah, incredibly well, actually. Harry's got a lot of family over there. He's been trying to convince his dad to move there with Max. We've got a lot of room. I wouldn't mind at all."
She nods. "How's the job? Elementary teaching takes patience. Especially with little kids."
"Yeah," I sigh. "But I love the kids. And they prepared me to have my own, which was nice. They're adorable. I'm glad I decided archaeology wasn't for me."
"Always thought you were more of the teaching kind. You sure you don't want to become a professor at some point? Takes more studying, but you're still young," she insists.
I roll my eyes with a grin. "Ma...no. I'm okay with teaching elementary. I love it. Plus, you know I'm writing books, which are doing very well. No need to worry about me. Promise."
"And Harry? He's okay with anesthesiology? That's a hard job, you know. One mistake and it's over."
"Yes," I groan slightly, widening my eyes, and she laughs. "Ma, you worry too much. We're fine."
"It's just you moved away so far from us!" She defends, placing her hand on my knee. "And I'm so proud of you. I know I don't say that a lot. But your father and I are very proud of you. Great choice of a husband, great parenting...I can't complain."
"Thank you, mom. I love you," I remind her, reaching over to embrace her tightly. Amari rushes over to me, poking her finger into my thigh. I turn to look at her, smiling. "What's going on, Mari?"
"Let's dance, please," she urges, not waiting for me to answer by grabbing my hand with both of hers. I look to Nonna, knowing she probably didn't want to dance so she sent Amari to me.
"Okay, okay," I laugh, letting her pull me over near the piano. Before I dance, I bend down to remove my heels, immediately feeling relieved that I'm out of those killer shoes. Free to dance in which ever way Amari wants to, but she mostly wants me to twirl her around in circles, and I do so with no complaint.
"Can I steal mommy for a dance, bug?"
Amari looks up to her dad and lets out a giggle, beaming up at him and nodding. So cheeky. Bright green eyes wide before she rushes off back to Nonna, asking her to roast marshmallows with her. I look up at Harry, beaming as he sends me a wink, wrapping my arms around his neck as he holds my waist. We sway carefully to the sounds of the piano and my dad's guitar, everyone either singing, roasting marshmallows, or now joining us to dance.
I hum softly, looking up at him in the eyes as he does the same. He's gotten ruggedly handsome features from his sharp jaw, defined nose, dark eyebrows. Light hairs across his jaw from his lack of care to shave, but he smells of his cologne and he's so strong and tall. Damn. He leans down and places a kiss on my lips, lingering there. "Love you," he mumbles against my skin.
"And I you," I whisper, biting back a smile. He slips his hand a little lower, touching my bum with flirtatious intentions. And I love that about him. Regardless of the many years, he still flirts, still touches me in public even when he knows I'll react. "Harry," I hiss with a laugh. "We're around family, and children."
Harry grunts and pulls me closer, everyone else too busy on their own conversations to notice us. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs. "I want another baby."
"Harry," I sigh, "Let's take a break from the babies. You're killing me here," I tease him, earning an amused chuckle in return.
"I know, I know. I just love you, and our girls, so much. I want tons and tons of babies," he persists quietly.
"Yeah, well this half of the baby machine needs to rest," I remark amusingly. "I want a boy, too, though. But in time, of course."
"I can't believe that in the summer of 1996, I met the girl of my dreams. And because Nonna fainted, made us drive her to the hospital, made you miss your flight, and pretended for another two weeks and a half to need your assistance, that you stayed. Nonna is literally our cupid." Our foreheads touch, though I'm able to take a quick glance at Nonna, who's roasting marshmallows with Amari.
My smile is wide. "I know. She's crazy. But she knew that I was going to regret leaving you. And here we are, nearly 2007. We're married, you're my hubby," I coo teasingly, and he scoffs playfully. "We've got everything we need. Amari. Vanessa. Our family."
"I know, don't make me get emotional," he teases.
I shoot him a smile before leaning my head on his shoulder, nose brushing his neck. I inhale deeply. "God, I love you. And that cologne you wear. No wonder we already have two kids. There's something in it. It's so sexy," I whisper to him. His shoulders shake lightly with laughter.
"Mhmm? Really?"
"Yes," I pout. "And you're so strong, and so sexy...maybe our third baby won't have to wait."
He laughs again, bringing his hand up to stroke through my curls. "You're crazy."
"You love me," I remind him.
"I do. I really do."
The End.
n. thank you so much to everyone that's followed this story. I started it a very long time ago, and through moments of hiatus and just tough times in general, I managed to finish this fluffy little story that I wrote not only to entertain my bored self, but to share it with you guys who are amazing for reading and staying with this story even as it took me so long to finish. But thank you so much! For everything.