Chapter 11: Paper
Sam
I hate seeing her like this and not knowing how to make anything better.
It's been a rough three weeks all around. I took a few days off work after our appointment, which was probably the best thing for both of us. We got to spend time together and come to terms with what happened – or what didn't happen.
There was never a baby. We didn't get to hear a heartbeat or feel little feet kicking. It's weird, but I still feel like we've lost something. It's heartbreaking, especially when I look at this strong, beautiful girl that I'm so in love with, and she's just barely holding it together.
We didn't make another appointment at the clinic, not right away anyway. We decided to take three weeks to ourselves to grieve and heal. It was a good thing. We held each other, we talked, and then we started to return to life as usual.
I went to work, she spent time with her sisters planning Abby's wedding. We also made sure to go out on a date night at least once a week.
Today is July 29th. It's our first wedding anniversary and I fully intend on making it fucking special for my wife. She's still asleep when I get back from my run, so after I take a quick shower I whip up some breakfast and head into our bedroom to surprise her.
"Happy anniversary," I whisper as I kiss her awake.
"Happy anniversary... you smell good," she mumbles, running her fingers along my jawline. "You shaved... Did you do that for me?" she grins.
"You can admit it now that it's gone, you never liked the beard," I chuckle and once she's pushed herself up into a seated position I place the tray of food into her lap.
"It was starting to grow on me. No pun intended. I'm glad you kept some of it, I like you moderately scruffy," she admits, kissing me and stroking my face again. She's got some fierce morning breath going on, but I don't mind.
"Just like?" I wonder.
"Maybe a little more than like," she sighs against my mouth.
After a bit more kissing, she puts some music on her phone and we start to eat.
"This looks so good, thanks babe! And you used our Mr. and Mrs. mugs!" Lia beams down at the two plates of blueberry waffles. She picks up her cup and takes a grateful sip of her coffee. The sound that comes out of her mouth is practically erotic, which makes me laugh.
She's always taken her coffee with way too much cream and sugar. I take a sip of mine. It's black, with only half a spoonful of sugar.
"Did you notice the flowers?" I ask.
I think she was too preoccupied with the waffles and coffee, because the moment she spots the pink and white roses in the waterless vase she starts to laugh.
"Are they made of paper? That's so cute!" she says.
"That's not your present, don't worry, I've got another one for you afterward," I smirk.
"I've got one for you too," she tells me as she cuts into her first waffle and stuffs a giant piece into her mouth. "These are so good! You're the best, I'm glad I married you," she moans.
"I know," I reply and grab a strawberry for the bowl between our two plates, popping it into my mouth.
We're quiet for a while as the music switches over to one of the many country songs we danced to that evening exactly a year ago today. There's a warm breeze coming through our open bedroom window. Lia's been brushing hair out of her face for the last five minutes, but it keeps coming back. I laugh and tuck a strand behind her ear.
"I had a really crazy dream last night," she says, as if just remembering.
"Let me hear it," I reply.
"We were looking at the ranch house near my parents', the one that's been for sale for the last couple years?" she begins, looking at me expectantly.
"I know the one," I tell her.
"I ended up going into labor and giving birth to the baby – I was pregnant in the dream – right on the living room floor. The real estate lady just let us have the house for free because she didn't want to deal with the gross stain on the area rug," she explains, scrunching up her face.
"If only real life worked like that," I chuckle.
"It was a really nice house too, it had the perfect room for the baby's nursery," she nods.
"Was it a boy or a girl?" I ask, just out of curiosity.
"I don't know, in my mind it was a boy, but it was like a Ken doll, it didn't have any bits," she giggles.
"Story of my life," I murmur, staring down at my waffles.
She bursts into a fit of giggles and gives my shoulder a playful shove. "You're a goof. I love you," she says.
"Good thing, 'cause we've got to last forty-nine more years at least," I reply.
"At least," she repeats, leaning her head against my arm. "Now wouldn't that be something? Married for fifty years... Our kids and grandkids better throw us one heck of a party," she grins, but her expression softens as she looks almost dreamily at our wedding photos on the wall above the bed. "I can't believe it's already been a year. We're not newlyweds anymore," she sighs.
"Nope, it's all downhill from here... Next thing you know we'll be a boring, passionless, old married couple," I tease, and she gives my arm another little shove. "I'm kidding! I promise I'll still wanna tear your clothes off when we're seventy," I assure her.
"I promise I'll still want to climb you like a tree," she giggles and blushes.
She's so cute.
After we finish eating, we decide it's time to exchange anniversary gifts. We both promised each other we wouldn't go overboard with the price since baby-making is really fucking expensive. Staying true to the paper theme, I got her a custom set of prints with our vows on them.
"It'll match the wedding photos on the wall," I tell her as she runs her fingers over my vows, tears welling up in her eyes. "Do you like it?" I ask, smirking.
"Yes," she whispers.
"Aw, come here," I laugh and take her in my arms. She sniffs and wipes her eyes.
"I love you so much," she pulls away to smile up at me.
"I love you too," I grin and kiss her quickly.
It's her turn next to give me her gift. It's in a cute little envelope with my name on it in her curvy handwriting, the kind that could only belong to an English teacher. I open it and hold up the two Chris Stapleton concert tickets.
"They're for the end of October, so we'll have to wait a little bit–" she says sheepishly.
"I love it, thank you," I grin at her.
There's a little festival on the pier a few towns over, so we get ready after lunch and head over there to spend the afternoon. That was always more our style, rather than getting all dressed up for a fancy dinner out. They've got a cover band playing live music, food trucks and other types of vendors, a farmer's market, and a ton of rides, games and other activities for kids.
"We should come here every year, make it a family tradition," Lia says as we walk hand-in-hand toward the beach where hundreds of people are spread out on towels and lawn chairs, or swimming in the lake.
I'm about to reply when a few kids whiz right by us and shove Lia into me. She grips my arm to steady herself. Some people might've been annoyed. She's got a big ole smile spreading on her face because she finds them adorable.
"Careful! There are people around!" a woman yells at them from behind us. She catches up to us and smiles apologetically. "I'm so sorry about them. Kids you know... Don't have them if you know what's good for you," she grins at us and walks away.
Lia stares at me with wide, incredulous eyes and a gaping mouth.
"Don't worry, we're not gonna listen to her, we're still gonna have a lot of babies," I say quickly, smiling a little at my wife's overreaction to this whole thing.
"Why would she say something like that to complete strangers?" she asks, looking toward the back of the woman's head. She's yelling at her kids again.
"People say stupid shit sometimes," I shrug.
"Yeah!" she agrees with an annoyed scoff, running her fingers through her hair.
I wrap my arm a little tighter around her shoulders and pull her against me.
With my free hand, I drop our bag and beach towels onto the ground. This is as good a spot as any to honker down for the rest of the afternoon. We're slightly away from the majority of the crowd, so it feels like we have a bit more privacy.
"You OK?" I ask.
"Yeah," she sighs, pushing her sunglasses up higher onto her nose.
"Then come on, I wanna go swimming!" I tell her.
I'm already kicking off my shoes and dropping my t-shirt onto our towels. She shimmies out of the barely-there shorts she's got on and smiles mischievously at me. It's the kind of smile that makes me wish we had the whole beach to ourselves.
I grin back at her and begin to run straight for the water, lifting up a cloud of sand behind me. Lia laughs and jumps onto my back, her fingers lacing together against my chest.
Her laugh turns into a shrill scream in my ear as my feet hit the water. The waves slam against my calves and the spray reaches up all the way to her tanned legs.
"It's so cold! OK, drop me, drop me, please!" she squeals as I carry her in deeper. "Sam!" she yells, but she should've known better. Without warning I fling myself – and her – into the water, and the next thing I hear once I resurface is her spluttering and cursing at me.
"You're such an asshole! My hair and makeup!" she yells, splashing me.
"You look beautiful, don't worry about it," I grin lazily.
"I have to walk back in public like this!" she whines, but I can already tell she's beginning to crack. I know her well enough to know she doesn't really care all that much about her hair. "Stop smiling at me!" she says, splashing me again.
I take a few slow steps closer, but she doesn't back away. With an impish smile, she loops her arms around my neck and I pull her in for another long, slow kiss.