Isn't She Lovely?
Chicago, Illinois
November 20, 1987
Laying quietly in their bed, head and shoulders propped up comfortably against a few pillows, Chrissy watches the powdery violet clouds hanging lowly in the pale orange sky out the window. It’s almost sunset. The days are growing shorter now. Colder too. She’s tucked under their flannel sheets, the ugly burnt orange afghan with its loose stitches and its torn holes, and a few of May’s old quilts that Wayne packed in the back of the van despite Eddie complaining there wasn’t any more room left.
“It gets cold and windy in that city, punk. Your poor little lady is going to freeze to death.”
The two of them were repressing their emotions about the move and it was coming off in passive aggressive grunts and jabs all morning.
“No, she won’t.” Eddie rolls his eyes as Wayne passes him after he successfully managed to shove three patchwork quilts between the stacks. As soon as his uncle is back in the trailer, he saunters up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist while she’s busy loading the last few boxes through the sliding back door, making her squeak in surprise. He tucks his face in the crook of her neck. “I’ll keep you plenty warm.” he whispers, planting kisses along her skin, lips parting and then slowly closing against that soft sensitive place just behind her ear, lighting her skin on fire.
She feels her cheeks burn, smiling foolishly despite the nervous ache throbbing in her chest. He certainly kept his promise over their last year together. She’s never cold for very long.
Fingers fiddling with the fraying edges of the top quilt, she glances at the slim plastic stick on the bedside table atop a neatly folded paper towel, its padded tip very much the color blue. Not remotely white.
It’s been hours since she snuck across the street to the pharmacy after Eddie left for work. The cashier, Janice, gave her a smirk when she tried to place the little box casually on the counter beside her bottle of ginger ale and aspirin.
“Didn’t you just get back from Huron a few weeks ago?” she asked in amusement.
“…yeah.” Chrissy sighed.
“Mmmm.” she hummed knowingly.
Knees swaying back and forth beneath the blankets, her own little patchy mountain to hide behind, she absentmindedly wonders when it happened. They’d always been careful, but after the wedding there were admittedly a few times they got carried away, too desperate and thoughtless, too lost in one another.
She can’t be certain, of course, but she thinks she knows… That first morning in Michigan, hazy beneath the red and gold leaves, the mist slowly burning up under the heat of the early sun.
There’s a chill in the air, they forgot to close the windows last night, but they’re warm and safe, tucked away beneath a shelter of their sheets and blankets.
It’s just the two of them in the middle of nowhere, woven together so tightly she doesn’t know where she ends and he begins.
This must be what it means. She thinks. When they say two become one.
“I love you, I love you, I love you, Chrissy, I love you…” he pants dazedly against her lips, still half asleep. “Chrissy… Chrissy… Chrissy…”
Joyful tears trail down her face from the corner of her eyes as she tries to respond, tries to tell him too, but she’s breathless, gasping, he’s never been buried so deeply inside her.
With an open kiss to her lips, he begins moving again, slow and languid, hand curling in her hair. “Eddie, I love… I-I… oh…” she sighs, tilting her head back, relishing the feel of him, eyes tightening, fingers digging into the skin of his neck and shoulder blade when he reaches that special place within. She can’t think, let alone speak. She feels his forehead resting against hers, lingering there for a while, his shuddered breath spilling over her, flushing her skin, filling her lungs.
When her eyes flutter open, she’s met with his dark lidded gaze, soft and adoring. Sunlight flares between them from the window. Heaven’s light. He looks so young, so happy. Her husband. Her family. With a little sob, she pulls him into another kiss. “I love you.” she tells him. “I love you so much.”
The front door opens, and she turns her head toward the digital alarm clock. He’s a little late, but that’s not unusual on Fridays.
Taking the test, she opens the drawer of the side table and hides it inside. She hears him through the thin walls, taking off his shoes and coat, hanging them up in the closet. He’s moving slowly, trying to be quiet.
A few moments later, the door handle turns, the hinges whining. He peers in tentatively, in case she’s asleep. His face lights up, making her heart flip in her chest. “Hey, Mrs. Munson,” he whispers.
“Hi,” she breathes a bashful, silly smile, watching him as he crosses the room. He’s covered in a thin layer of sweat, his clothes blotchy with motor oil, hair still tied back.
“Feeling any better?” he asks softly.
“Mmhmm,” she hums as he leans down, parting her bangs to kiss her forehead. “Just tired.”
“No fever, right?” he asks against her skin, peppering his lips along her temple, lingering a moment, applying more pressure to check her temperature. She shakes her head faintly as he pulls away, blinking up at him.
“Hmm,” he muses, looking her over. She can see he’s a little worried. “Might want to get this checked out if you’re not better tomorrow.”
“I’m okay.” she promises. “Really, I probably could have gone to class today.”
“I’m glad you didn’t, you’re still pretty peaky.” he carefully brushes against the tender skin under her eye with the back of his fingers. “Have you been able to keep anything down?” he asks.
“Yeah, I had some toast for lunch.” she replies.
“That’s good,” he whispers as he kisses her mouth tenderly, sweet and slow. The last few days have been hard for him, watching her bent over the toilet in the early morning hours. It’s probably brought back memories of their summer in the trailer when she would lock herself in the bathroom.
She promised him over and over it wasn’t voluntary as he held her hair above her head. “I know.” he told her, holding her close when it was all over, stroking her back. “I know.” She hasn’t purged for over a year, but she knows that was his first thought, his first fear.
“I’m going to take a shower real quick.” he tells her. “You need anything?”
She shakes her head, leaning up for another kiss. “Just you.”
A goofy, flustered smile spreads across his face, and she wonders if their child will have his dimples. He pecks her lips softly, then her nose. “Be right back.”
She leans back against the cushions, turning her gaze back to the sky, her smile faltering a little, a shaky sigh escaping her.
It’s not long till he’s back, changed into his sweats and a loose, sleeveless gray Dio shirt, a mug of steaming ginger tea in his hand. He exchanges it for her empty one that’s sitting on the coaster beside her.
“Thank you.” she whispers softly.
He smiles, kissing her cheek as he climbs over her, settling in, resting his head against her chest with a content, tired sigh. “God, I missed you all day,” he breathes, wrapping his arms around her snugly. “I just kept worrying about you being home alone and sick.” She wraps him up under the afghan, holding him tenderly against her heart, stroking his long, towel dried waves. His warmth and weight anchor her, slow the racing of her heart. After a while, he tilts his head up, his large eyes peeking above the small swells of her breasts, making her smile. “What?”
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks gently. “You’re so quiet.”
“I’m always quiet,” she points out.
“Mmm no,” he leans up on his palms. “This isn’t normal Chrissy quiet.” he counters, kissing her again, a little longer than before. “This is something’s going on quiet.” he lowers himself back down but keeps his gaze on her.
“Give it to me straight, Cunningham.” he teases, grinning coyly against the fabric of her rose-pink pajama top.
“Munson.” she corrects pointedly, making his smile grow.
“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” he replies cheekily, leaning his head to the side, as if he didn’t know. “Made an honest woman out of you, didn’t I?”
She exhales a soft laugh, brushing back his bangs, cradling his jaw in her hands, taking in the face of the man she loves. She can see the dark flecks in his eyes in the light from the window as he stares up into her, his irises amber glass in the glow of the sun. They move back and forth, searching. He sobers. “Chrissy?”
“…I’m not sick, not exactly,” she brushes her thumb over his chapped lips. “…I’m pregnant, Eddie.” she whispers faintly. “We’re having a baby.”
His eyes widen as his lips part beneath her thumb, his whole body stilling. “You’re…” he pauses, blinking rapidly.
She nods, pursing her lips, waiting for his mind to catch up with what she just said.
“You’re… We’re…” And then he breathes a smile so bright and beautiful it makes her insides ache. “A baby?” he whispers giddily.
“Yeah,” she sighs in relief, returning his smile.
“Really?” he asks, joy and excitement dancing in his eyes, holding her tighter. “You’re sure?”
She sniffs softly, shrugging a little before pulling the test out of the drawer, holding it out to him. “Probably want to make an appointment to make sure sure, but I’m late and it’s… really blue.”
He takes it carefully, looking it over, opening and closing his mouth, not knowing what to do or say. She tucks his hair back behind his ear patiently. It takes a lot to render Eddie Munson speechless. “Jesus Christ… yeah, it’s like super fucking blue.” he releases a watery chuckle, setting it back on the table, his hand sliding back down over her as he rolls to his side, touching her stomach in amazement. “Chrissy… I can’t… God, I’m… I can’t breathe… I’m so…There’s a baby in here? We’re having baby…” his hand stills once more as he looks back up at her, his smile falling when he meets her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Her lips begin to tremble, eyes misting over. He can always see right through her.
“You’re okay, right?” he asks worriedly, reaching up to hold her face. “Chrissy, right? You’re okay? You’re happy?”
“Yes, I am, I promise, I’m so, so happy, Eddie… I’m just…” she lifts the back of her hand to her mouth.
“…Scared?” he whispers.
She bursts into tears, nodding shakily as she releases a soft little sob.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he pulls himself up to sit beside her, kissing her cheek, then her lips deeply, over and over again, swallowing her sobs, wiping away her tears. “Don’t be scared, please, it’s all going to be okay.” He trails hurried kisses to her jaw, down her neck. “You don’t have to be afraid; I know… I know it’s not much right now, but I’ll take care of you,” he vows. “I’ll take care of both of you, I promise.”
“No, Eddie, no,” she shakes her head firmly, pulling back so she can face him. “I know that... I know you will, that’s not it at all.”
“Then what? What is it?” He pecks her lips a few times. Prompting. “Come on, talk to me.”
“It’s just…” It’s all thick in her throat. This moment is supposed to be wonderful and as usual she’s ruining everything for him, with her fears, her weakness.
“It’s me.” she confesses. “What if… what if I’m not a good mother?”
“What are you talking about?” he exclaims softly in disbelief, pushing back her hair.
“It’s not like I have the best example,” she replies. “She’s in me, you know? What if deep down I'm like her? What if I…”
“Chrissy, you’re nothing like her,” he murmurs. “You’re kind and gentle and loving… Christ, do you have any idea? Any idea how much this kid is going to adore you?”
“Me?” Her heart swells almost painfully, tears falling more abundantly. She turns into him, burying her face in his chest, squeezing his neck.
“Are you kidding? I mean, I’ll be okay, I’ll try my best… but God, you? I’ll be nothing compared to you.” she feels his hands slide down her back soothingly.
“That’s not true,” she’s laughing through her tears, she doesn’t know how he always manages to make her feel everything all at once. “You’ll be the fun one, I’ll be so worrisome and boring.”
He smiles against her temple. His fingers sliding back up to hold her face, pulling her back just enough to meet her gaze. "You’ll be amazing.” he whispers reverently. “You are amazing.”
“I’m still…” she sniffs, leaning against his palm. “I’m still healing.” Maybe not as much physically anymore, but mentally, emotionally…
“So am I,” he reminds her softly. “I think we’re always going to be, sweetheart.” he keeps pressing kisses against every surface of her face like he can’t help it. She closes her eyes, relishing his love. He pulls her back into him, tucking her tight the way she likes. “I still want this, a family with you, I always have, ever since… Jesus, ever since the first night with you.”
“Me too.” she confesses, already feeling warmer, safer in his arms.
“We’re having a baby.” she hears him say again after a long while, as if he still can’t believe it.
She smiles against his chest. “Yeah.”
