Chapter Text
-1-
“When I agreed to this, I was promised free drinks and only two hours in the car.” Eugene peered dubiously out of the dark passenger window of the rental car. “We’re now creeping up on hour three and we haven’t even hit 380 yet. And you didn’t pack a flask, Park. How many more promises are you going to break this week?”
“First of all, shut up,” Mina said mildly, squinting past the flurries of snow swirling in the beam of the headlights and trying to keep a reasonable distance between them and the next car on the packed interstate. “Second of all, a flask is an open container, Min.” She checked her rearview out of habit, though the scene behind them was the same as the last hour. “Third of all, how many times are you going to make me say ‘thank you’ for bailing me out?” She flicked a strand of short hair out of her eyes and scanned the road again. The tension in her shoulders that wouldn’t let up.
“At least six more, I think…” Eugene grinned so wide his gums showed. Mina rolled her eyes. He huffed and leaned back against his seat. “I still don’t understand why it was such a big deal for you to go alone. You’re calling this event Friendsgiving, which by the way sounds like the whitest thing ever, but you presumably like these people.”
“Of course I like these people, and they’re not all white. Though most of them are...” Mina glanced at her phone, mounted to the air vent so she could keep her hands free and still have her map. Red lines in every direction. “It’s just that they love me so much that they meddle and this year is the first year everyone is bringing their significant others. Being the eleventh wheel on this School Bus of Friendship Chaos is kind of pathetic.”
“And bringing a friend instead of a boyfriend isn’t less pathetic?” His voice was teasing, but she still cringed a little. “They’re not going to meddle if I’m there?”
“Well, they’ll still mother me and smother me, but when it gets to be too much, I’ll turn to you and say ‘weren’t you working with Jay-Z the other day in the studio?’ and Hope and Amber will start bugging you for information about Beyonce instead of investigating my love life. And then I can slip away for at least an hour with a good book.” She grinned unrepentantly at his grimace.
“They sound swell…”
“Well, ignore everything I just said because they’re literally my favorite people in the whole world, aside from my mother, your mother, and Kwon Jiyong.”
“Kwon Jiyong? Who the fuck is--” He cut himself off, thinking. “Is he that dude who owns the Korean barbecue place on West Thirty-Second, the one you always get drunk at when you’ve been dumped?” Mina squawked in protest.
“First of all, shut up,” she repeated her earlier refrain, this time not nearly as mildly. “Second of all, it was one time and the break up was brutal and I’m still embarrassed about puking on your shoes so kindly shut up please-and-thank-you. Third, I thought you were all, my music taste transcends genre.” She pitched her voice lower and slightly raspier and just a little bit dumber and was pleased when he echoed her squawk. “How do you not know Kwon Jiyong? G Dragon? The rapper slash singer slash genius artist and musician in Seoul? Even your mom knows G Dragon.”
“Oh. Him.” Eugene shrugged. “I’m not really into the idol singers. Hell, I barely listen to anything from the underground over there anymore.”
“Well, you should.” Mina mentally kicked herself for not making a road trip playlist. How had she been in a car for three hours with a legit music producer with the stereo silent the whole time? She hadn’t even noticed, since there hadn’t been many lulls in their typical banter and conversation. “It’s all really good. Especially G Dragon.” Eugene just nodded affably and somehow she knew he’d take her advice seriously.
“In one quarter mile, take Exit 3 for I-380 North,” a voice said from her phone, both placidly soothing and somehow obnoxious at the same time.
“Shit. I gotta get over, hang on.” Mina flipped on her turn signal and inched into the next lane, praying everyone behind her was paying close attention in the terrible visibility. “I hate driving.”
“I would have driven,” Eugene offered, his voice a little tight.
“All the way to the Poconos? When you’re already doing me a favor by showing up at all?” She twisted her head back and forth rapidly to keep all the cars in her vision at once as she merged again.
“I have a little more… practice than you do.” His eyes darted to the side mirror, even though the angle didn’t help him see much. Mina didn’t miss the way his hand gripped his armrest tightly.
“Yeah, I’m sure those three years in LA taught you all about driving in snow.”
“As opposed to the lengthy experience you have, riding in cabs across Queens? Did you learn how to drive by osmosis?” They both pretended his voice didn’t pitch an octave higher on the last phrase.
He clenched his teeth as she steered the car onto the off-ramp. They both sucked in a breath as the tires slid ever so slightly before settling into the grooves the earlier traffic had left in the slush on the pavement. He looked at her meaningfully. She shushed him softly. When their momentum was once more only in a forward direction, he released the armrest but then didn’t seem to know what to do with his hand.
“Wait, so you’re saying that the ranking of your favorite people goes,” he motioned a flat hand above his head, “your mom,” moving the hand lower on each phrase, “my mom, G Dragon, then these people?” He finished with his hand down by his knee. “And then the rest of us plebes.”
“Well, I mean, I didn’t actually rank them. I just… grouped them.” Mina eyed him sheepishly. “And you’re not a plebe.”
“If you had to rank them?” Eugene asked with a raised eyebrow, clearly challenging her. She knew he wasn’t going to let her off the hook with this. “Where does this Jiyong guy rank? Higher or lower than these friends?” Mina stared out the windshield, avoiding his gaze. The pitch of his voice raised incredulously. “Higher than my mother? Your mother?”
“Listen...” Mina didn’t actually have an end to that sentence. Eugene chuckled into the silence she’d left hanging. “I like them all a lot, okay? Jiyong got me through some hard times.” She prayed Eugene wouldn’t bring up the breakup again. She was mostly over it, over him, but it was all better left in her past. It was still kind of a tender spot when poked too much. “Besides, my mother definitely outranks him. And Taeya -- you’ll meet her tonight -- she beats Jiyong by a fair amount. Your mother was a contender until she started her inquisition again last time I saw her.”
“Oh god,” Eugene groaned, flopping his head back on the headrest. “What was she asking about now? Love life or job?”
“Both.”
“Wait.” He lifted his head to fix her with a searching glare. “Mine or yours?”
“Both.”
“Why is she like this?” He groaned again and scratched behind his right ear in a fidgety kind of way.
“Korea, I think?” Mina pursed her lips as she merged slowly into the traffic on the next highway. “I dunno. Mine’s been harping on the same things. She’s disappointed in my choice of career, but now that I’m about to turn thirty, she’s trying to get me married off and pregnant with her grandbabies.” He nodded wearily. “So is your mom.”
“Disappointed in my career choice or trying to get me married and pregnant with her grandbabies?” Eugene asked sardonically. Traffic slowed to a stop around them momentarily.
“Well, I’m sure she’d rather you were a lawyer or a doctor, but I meant me.” She rolled her head on her shoulders, taking advantage of the still vehicle to take her eyes off the road for a second.
“She wants you married and pregnant with her grandbabies?” Eugene scrunched his forehead. Traffic started moving again. She nodded and released one hand off the steering wheel to flex her stiff fingers, then switched and did the same with the other. Eugene jolted and turned toward her. “Wait. She wants you pregnant with her grandbabies?”
“Yep.” Mina popped the P on the end of the word, glancing at him accusingly. “Someone, and I’m not saying who, but someone told her I was single again, Eugene Daniel Min, and she’s returned to her plan to unite our families through our marriage.”
“Shit.”
“Shit!” Mina hit the brakes and they both grunted when the seatbelts caught them. The truck that had swerved in front of them fishtailed a little before cutting across two more lanes of traffic. “They’re going to kill someone.”
“I’m going to kill someone,” he muttered. She sighed.
“She means well,” Mina said gently, wishing she hadn’t been so vehement a second ago. His mother wasn’t so bad, no different than her own, really. But Mina had forgotten how touchy he got when this subject came up every few years. “I’m the only single Korean girl left from the old church. She wants to take care of us both. Plus, I’m sure my mother’s involved, too.”
“Still. It’s none of her business.” He scrunched his nose. “Sorry about that. I’ll talk to her. Again.” He rubbed his forehead. “I thought we were past this in high school.”
“Well, maybe if you got yourself a girlfriend, she would believe you when you said you weren’t interested in me,” Mina teased. She fluffed her short hair in an exaggerated gesture. “It’s because I’m such a catch, you know.” She grinned at him, trying to bust him out of the sour mood the conversation seemed to have put him in. “So be sure to bring home someone really good, okay? Or she won’t believe you.”
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that…”
-2-
“Babe?” Ramón called. He slid down the hardwood hallway in his socks, feeling just a little bit nostalgic for Risky Business, never mind that it had been released several years before he was born. Still, he did a little shimmy in his boxers as he slid into the bedroom. “I found the corkscrew!”
“Excellent! Get your no-ass back in bed.” Hope rolled over, completely unconcerned with her nakedness. He paused, just taking in the way she looked, rumpled among the sheets. She blinked up at him expectantly with the bottle of white wine in her hands. “What?”
“How did I get this lucky?” he murmured, moving forward to kiss her. She sat up to meet his lips and kept him close for longer than he originally planned.
“You wanna get luckier?” she asked archly.
“It’s been exactly twelve minutes since the last round, which I might remind you was round two.” He climbed over her legs to tangle himself back around her body, his chest against her back. “As much as I’d like to, I don’t have the sex drive of a high school boy.”
“Well, I do,” she said, taking the corkscrew from him and expertly opening the wine. “You need to keep up.”
“We should probably get dressed,” he mused. Then he ignored his own words to kiss along her bare shoulder as she picked up a glass from the nightstand and started pouring. “The others will be here soon. Wasn’t Mina leaving the city at three? It’s… crap, it’s six now.” He moved to get up, but Hope pulled him back down with a hand around the back of his neck. She kept pulling him until they were kissing deeply.
“She called while you were in the kitchen,” she said impishly as he tried to catch his breath. “They’re still at least a half an hour out. The roads are terrible.” She handed him a glass and clinked hers against his gently in a small toast. “We’ve got the place to ourselves for a little bit longer.”
“The roads?” Ramón looked at the dark window and noticed the flakes buffeting the glass for the first time. “When did it start snowing?”
“Right after we got here,” she replied with an eye roll. “I said it was a good thing we’d done all the grocery shopping on our way up, because we might not want to go back out tonight.”
“Oh, right. I was a little busy,” he said into her skin, back to kissing her neck. “Because right before that, you’d taken off your shirt.”
“Ah, yes, I forgot how that tends to turn the volume down on your ears…”
“Sorry, babe,” he said sheepishly. “But have you seen you? Your beauty is deafening.” He frowned. “That was supposed to be more poetic and complimentary.”
“Ehh, I’ll take it.” Hope pecked his cheek. “Now, do you want round three here or in the shower?”
“Are you sure none of the others are getting here earlier?” He looked around again, like one of their friends might materialize at any second. His drink sloshed a little in his hand and he hastily set it on the nightstand. Liquids in bed were best limited to lube.
“Everyone else isn’t planning on being here until eight or so, except for the Kings, but Mark texted something about a delay at the sitter’s place? They got a late start.”
“I still don’t know why we didn’t just carpool with them. DC to Baltimore isn’t out of the way. We could have all saved a little gas money.”
“Well, for one, then you wouldn’t have gotten laid. Twice. Pretty sure that’s worth the gas money.” Hope grinned, then took a slow sip of her wine, enjoying the flavors bursting on her tongue. Ramón enjoyed the expressions bursting on her face. “And two, they think we’re each bringing someone else. I didn’t want to spill the beans until we’re all together.”
“Yeah okay,” Ramón conceded. He flopped back on the pillows with a whiney moan. “And we have to tell them?”
“Ramón.” Hope’s usually joking voice was firm. He lifted his head and then let it fall back down. She set her glass down and watched him.
“I know. It’s just --”
“Unless you prefer to keep me a secret for a few more years?” Her tone was still not joking. She slid out of the bed and slipped her dress over her head. He sat up quickly.
“Fuck no.” He crawled to the edge of the bed hastily. “That is not what this is about.”
“Seems like it, sometimes…”
“No. Have you been worried about that?” He jumped up and pulled her close to him. “If you feel like that, I’ll call everyone right now while they’re driving on those dangerous roads out there and tell them myself, screw waiting.” He looked her in the eye until she softened.
“Then why--”
“Because no one is going to believe that you’re serious about me , Hope.” He stepped back a little, feeling small and stupid and feeling stupid for feeling small and stupid. “I just don’t want the teasing or the jokes. I don’t-- This thing isn’t a joke, you know?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” she asked, clearly trying not to laugh in confusion. He took a deep breath and gathered his jumbled thoughts.
“I’m the youngest and a giant nerd and all gangly and... I’m me and you’re you and they’re not--”
“What do you mean I’m me and you’re you?” Hope scowled at him, roving her eyes up and down his nearly-nude body. She reached out a hand to trace his skin from his defined pecs to flat abs.
He blinked and followed her hand with his eyes. He sometimes forgot that he’d gotten a gym membership a few years ago and was no longer the scrawny kid who started college at sixteen. She lifted one corner of her mouth in a sly smile as he ducked his head sheepishly.
“It’s been ten years since we all met,” she said slowly. “None of us are the same people anymore. When we tell them, they’ll believe us because I am so goddamn in love with you that they’ll see it all over my face.” She tipped her face up to kiss him again. “And I don’t want to hide that anymore.”
“You know,” he said, breaking the kiss only to drop a few more pecks on her lips. “I’d like to remind you that this whole secret was your idea in the first place.” He looped his arms around her hips to rest his hands on the small of her back. “The first time you jumped me, I was ready to tell the whole world.” She snorted.
“That’s only because you wanted to tell the whole world you finally scored.”
“Hey!”
“Besides. Who jumped whom?” She gave him a skeptical look.
“You jumped me.” He lowered his eyebrows, confused and offended. She tilted her head curiously. “Two years ago, at the last one of these Friendsgiving things. You cornered me in the kitchen and kissed me. Have you really forgotten our auspicious start?”
“That wasn’t jumping you!” she said indignantly. “That was just kissing you. You’re the one who came to my apartment on New Year’s Eve that year and asked to pick up where we left off--”
“Yes, and where we left off was your tongue down my throat and your hand halfway down my pants. And then Amber walked in and you had to pretend you were killing a bug that had climbed in there.” Ramón paused. “How the hell did we keep this a secret for two years? You’re a terrible liar and you hate bugs.”
“Amber was pretty drunk, if you’ll recall.”
“So were you…”
“No, I wasn’t.” Hope’s small smile bloomed into a grin when Ramón frowned. “I’d had one glass of wine. I just… I was hedging my bets. Plausible deniability if you didn’t like me back.”
“What?” He huffed. “Our whole relationship is built on a lie!”
“You just said I was a terrible liar,” she accused.
“I stand corrected.” He let go of her to scoop his pants off the floor and tug them grumpily onto each leg. He swung his shirt over his head, only to get stuck in the sleeve for a moment before he wrestled the fabric into place indignantly. She let out a cackle at his antics.
“What, you’d rather I had been drunk when I made my move?” she asked incredulously. He zipped up his pants harshly, accidentally smacking himself in the belly when he let go of the pull.
“No, of course not. I wish I’d known you were sober.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I stood outside your bedroom door that night for like an hour. I didn’t want to start anything when you couldn’t consent, but I was pretty sure you were serious with that kiss.” He glared at her. “And then you went radio silent for weeks and I started to think you didn’t mean it. Christmas that year was miserable, missing you and wondering if we’d ruined our friendship.” He seemed genuinely hurt.
She stepped forward with a sympathetic pout, the one she wore when she thought he was being particularly ridiculous and adorable, and cupped his face gently. He glared harder, making her laugh again.
“I’m very sorry for that. I was a big fat chicken.” She brushed her lips against his. “You’re a good man and I love you very much and I’m ready to break out of our little bubble now.”
“And you’re sure right now is the best time?” He sat on the edge of the bed.
“Ramón.”
“No, I don’t want to live in secret anymore either. And, yeah, they’re all going to be here so it’s the most convenient way. And they’re probably not going to tease me too badly. And this is nothing like Chad and Kristi, yada yada yada. We’ve been over all that. But…” He lifted one shoulder. “They’re going to be hurt that we’ve been lying to them for two years.” Hope sighed and perched next to him and slid her hand into his.
“We haven’t been lying. Per se.”
“Hope.”
“And we haven’t been together -together for the whole two years…”
“Hope.”
“I know.”
They sat quietly for a long moment.
“Well, they’ll start arriving in about fifteen minutes. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Ramón looked over at her. “You should put on a bra and brush your hair if you don’t want them figuring it out the second they walk in.”
“Fine, but you owe me round three.”
-3-
“James, I think I’m going to be sick...”
Jimmy turned and looked at his wife in alarm, taking in the crowded interstate around them and the sheets of wet snow pelting their car.
“Um,” he said helpfully. Amber covered her mouth with a shaky hand and closed her eyes, nodding frantically. He scanned the interior of the brand new SUV for some kind of container that his mind was already reminding him wasn’t there. “Um…”
She rolled down the window a little, cold air and icy pellets blasting her in the face immediately. She breathed deeply while he desperately searched for a solution. He spotted an exit up ahead.
“Hang on.” He switched lanes quickly, ignoring the honking that followed him. Despite the snow, traffic was still moving at a decent clip.
“I’m trying. Please don’t kill us.” She pressed her thumb deeply into a spot on her inner forearm below her wrist, some kind of acupressure thing Jimmy still wasn’t sure he understood. She claimed it helped. She let go quickly to clap her hand back over her mouth.
“Just don’t puke in the car, okay?” He steered quickly into the traffic on the access road, cutting across three lane quickly.
“I’d really rather not.” Amber groaned. “This damn baby.”
“Don’t call our child a damn baby ,” Jimmy muttered distractedly, more focused trying to weasel into the turn lane to get to a gas station.
“I will call it whatever I want to call it, when it’s ripping up my insides and making me want to puke every other hour.” She pressed her face to the cool glass of the window, tilting her nose up toward the narrow opening. He managed to force his way into the turn lane and was grateful it was too dark to see how many people probably flipped him the bird while he did it. “Hmmm… Actually... I think I’m feeling a little better.”
“Yeah?” He looked at her worriedly.
“Yeah. I think…” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I think it’s passed.” He pulled into a parking space as she nodded firmly. “We can keep going. Sorry.”
“Do you want to use the bathroom while we’re here? We’ve still got about two hours to go.”
“If I walk into a gas station bathroom right now, I will definitely puke.” Amber said, her tone decisive and repulsed. Jimmy didn’t blame her, though he worried about how she was going to make it two more hours without a bathroom. After four years of dating, almost six years of marriage, and a cumulative total of 17 road trips together, he knew they’d be pulling off the highway in another twenty minutes.
“Are you--”
“--growing a human, inside of my body, from scratch and yet still able to know my own limits?”
“Right.” He waited a moment to be sure, but with the snow coming down harder and the weather report only promising more as the night wore on, he knew they needed to keep moving if they wanted to make it up into the mountains tonight. “Right,” he said again. Amber rolled her eyes, but it seemed more loving than exasperated.
He had only just navigated them back onto the tollway, which was dramatically more congested than it was when they’d left it moments before, when she whimpered softly. He glanced over to see her press her clenched fist against her lips. He swore softly under his breath and started moving back toward the far right to reach the next exit.
“No, it’s fine.” She clenched her jaw and swallowed hard. “Just keep going. This one will pass, too.” He gritted his teeth and kept to the right lane but didn’t take the exit. As they passed it, her breathing became heavier.
“That’s it, we’re pulling over.”
“No, I’m fine!”
“You’re not fine! You’re green!”
“This is just my face!”
“What?” Jimmy burst into laughter and she chuckled triumphantly next to him. She took a ragged breath and leaned against the window again. “Are you serious? I should keep going?”
She nodded in lieu of answering him verbally, which he did not find very reassuring. He compromised by staying in the slow lane and watching her as closely as the car in front of him. They passed another exit, then another. She didn’t seem to be improving, but she also wasn’t clutching her mouth, so he decided to trust her. Then a terrible noise came from inside her throat and her eyes widened.
“Oh my god!” Jimmy groaned as she hunched over and the long bangs of her pixie cut flopped limply onto her forehead. “Can I pull over now ?” She nodded emphatically. He looked up in time to see the next exit whip by them. She moaned desperately and reached for the door handle. “Fuck! No, Amber. We’re on a bridge! There’s no shoulder!”
He wanted to floor it, but he could tell the bridge was slicker than the highway surface on solid ground. He’d rather she puke on the floorboards than put their lives at risk. All three of their lives. She clawed at the armrest and looked at him through her bangs, clearly miserable. The second they left the bridge, he steered the vehicle to the closest shoulder, nearly putting them in the ditch and eliciting a chorus of honks.
She flung open the door, wrestling with her seatbelt as she turned sideways. He reached over and tried to help, but their hands got in each other’s way and she ended up just throwing the shoulder strap over her head to lean outside. Her shoulders shook, but she didn’t open her mouth. He sat frozen, his hand still poised over her back, unsure if touching her would help or not at this point.
Slowly, she leaned back into the car, her mouth still clamped shut. He caught her shoulders in both hands and guided her back toward him. She breathed deeply for a long moment as traffic whizzed by behind them.
“That was close!” she mumbled. Her panting slowed and she started to shake from the cold air flooding the car.
“Did you…?”
“No, thank god.”
“Are you okay now?” he asked, even as she was pulling her feet back inside and shutting the door. She nodded, wrapping her arms around her middle. In a daze, he reached for her shoulder strap and pulled it back around her to its rightful place. “Are you sure?” He frowned skeptically. “Do you want to get out and walk around anyway?”
“In this mess?” She motioned to the snow and the bridge and the speeding cars like he was dimwitted. He lifted one shoulder. “No thanks.”
Against his better judgement, he turned on his blinker and peered behind him. It took several minutes for enough of a gap to appear for them to get back into the flow of traffic. He kept an eye on Amber as he got back up to speed.
“I’m not sure this was such a good idea…” he started tentatively.
“Just keep driving. I’ll let you know if I’m not okay.”
“I mean this whole trip.” He chewed his lower lip and waited for her to roll her eyes. He was being overprotective again, he knew, but it had only been a little over a month since the positive test. He was still nervous about… well, about everything, if he was being honest with himself.
“Once we get to the cabin, it’s going to be exactly the same as being at home. Better, because I won’t have to go to work for nine whole days.” She reached beside her chair and slowly reclined the seat to get more comfortable. She closed her eyes. “You and Hope and Jackie do most of the heavy lifting for Thanksgiving dinner anyway, and I’ll take naps every day. It sounds amazing, actually.”
“Okay, but--” Jimmy caught the movement of her eyebrows in the corner of his eye, though she didn’t bother to open her eyes to spear him with the quelling look he probably deserved. “I’m just concerned how you’re going to keep the pregnancy a secret if you’re napping and puking all the time,” he said finally, as if that was how he’d intended to end the sentence all along.
“Hmmmm… I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”
“Me?” He frowned. “Why do I have to do the lying when you’re the one who wants to keep the secret in the first place?” He tentatively switched lanes, hoping he wouldn’t regret getting into the faster traffic and away from the exit lane.
“Because you’re not the one growing a human. Inside their body. From--”
“From scratch. Yes, I know.” He sighed. She did spear him with a look this time. He quickly amended, “And you’re doing an excellent job, by the way. Have I said lately?” He grinned cheekily at her and she snorted. “You’re absolutely glowing.”
“That would be the nausea sweats,” she said, her smile just as cheeky. She looked out the window and played with her own fingers. He waited. “I know it would be easier to announce when we’re all together, but I’m only at nine weeks. I don’t want to say anything until the second trimester. Just in case.” He reached over and took her hand, squeezing gently. She let her head thump against the headrest and closed her eyes again.
“I thought, when the first ultrasound was good this time…” He tried not to think about the other times. Still, the silence hung heavy between them for a long moment. “I thought that might take away some of the fear.”
“It did, a little. But I still want to wait. Just a few more weeks.” Her voice was a little smaller than normal.
He nodded and squeezed her hand again. They were quiet in the dark for the next few miles. He switched lanes again, increasing his speed around a large box truck. They were just passing Stewart Airport when she gripped his hand tighter. He looked over to see her sitting up, looking uncomfortable again.
“Nausea?” He asked, already switching lanes back toward the upcoming exit.
“No,” she said sheepishly. “I’ve gotta pee.”
-4-
“Okay, so. A bottle when she wakes up in the morning and one before nap and bed. The rest of the day, she should be fine with solids,” Mark looked at the incredibly detailed list in his hand and smiled to himself, both impressed and overwhelmed by his spouse’s ability to prepare for any contingency. He passed the sheet to his dad. “You’ve had her for the day before, so you know most of her routines, but we’ve made sure you’ve got all the information you’ll ever need.”
His dad chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t worry about us. Your mom and I will do just fine with Charlotte. You two need this time away. It’s been a rough year.” Mark clapped a hand on his father’s shoulder in silent thanks. “Where’s--?”
“Putting Charlotte down. They both wanted to do one more bedtime before we left.” Mark had already kissed his daughter goodbye six or seven times, so he couldn’t really fault the urge for a final snuggle. He was going to miss her, too, but he was also very ready to be just two adults for a week. His dad, as understanding as he was, actually didn’t know half of the hardships this year. Still, it wasn’t easy to leave her.
“Listen, just focus on your marriage and your friends this week. We’re a phone call away and we can video chat every night before bed if you need. But we’ve really got this. You’d better get on the road. The news says it’s going to get rough out there tonight.”
He heard low voices in the upstairs hall, right over the staircase. His mother’s voice floated toward him, sounding reassuring and just slightly exasperated. It was time for him to step in.
“Hon, come on. We’ve gotta go, unless you want to stay here tonight,” he called. The brief pause that answered him made him rethink his words. “No. Don’t even think about it. We’re going.” His voice was more pleading than demanding, and his father chuckled at him. He sighed in mock longsuffering, bringing out another laugh from his dad.
Finally, footsteps started toward him down the stairs. He hugged his dad quickly to make the exit as fast as possible. “Thanks for this,” he said for about the sixth time that night. He kissed his mom on the cheek and pulled their coats off the rack by the door. “Seriously. We owe you.”
“No you don’t,” his mother replied. “Have a great time.” She shooed them toward the door, aligned with Mark in his desire to get them out before anyone could change their minds. After a quick shuffle into coats and another round of hugs for everyone, they were spilling out onto the snowy porch.
“The roads are going to be awful,” he commented, trying for a distraction instead of another round of reassurance about Charlotte.
“We don’t have to go…” Mark felt a cold hand worm into his as they trudged down the wet sidewalk toward their car. At a strong sniffle, Mark glanced over, but he was met by the side of a thick winter hood and he knew it hid tears.
“Yes, we do.” He pressed a kiss to chilly fingers before he dropped the hand and opened the passenger door. “Honey, we need this. Our friends need this. You know, even Charlotte needs this. Bonding with her grandparents is important for her development.”
“We do need this.” They kissed for a long moment, one in the car and one standing outside of it. “Mmmmm, I need that. Need you.”
“I’m getting snowed on here,” Mark complained gently, giving one last peck before separating himself from those tempting lips and closing the door.
He ran around the driver’s side, controlling the slide of his shoes in the slush to help with his momentum, like a child at Christmas. Now that they were out of the house, he was practically giddy for this trip. He shook the snow from his hair as he started the car.
“Tonight,” he proclaimed officiously. “We’re going to sleep in a bed by ourselves and not be woken up until we want to be awake and we will stay in bed and make lazy love until Jimmy texts us that pancakes are ready.”
“Texts? Your friends are that polite on these trips? I was under the impression that Hope and Taeya would burst into everyone’s room screaming about breakfast and generally create chaos.”
“They’ll have their own boyfriends to keep them busy. And also I will make sure we get a room with a door that locks.” This earned him a sassy I told you so face, which he counted as a victory because it was almost entirely tear-free.
He turned on the radio at low level so they could keep talking, but they’d still hear any weather reports or traffic updates. Mark had a feeling they’d be on the road a lot longer than the planned three hours, especially as they got out of the cities and into the rural highways. Even so, he could feel himself relaxing into vacation mode. They hadn’t been alone in the car in months -- the last time they left Charlotte with his parents had been because of a double booking that had them both away from home and each other on a Saturday when her daycare was closed.
“What do you think of this guy Taeya’s bringing? What was his name? John? You haven’t met him, right?”
“No. Remember we were all supposed to have dinner in September? But then the plans fell apart because… Well, September fell apart.” He felt some tension returning to his neck just from mentioning it and was answered with a low grunt of pained acknowledgment. He quickly continued, “He seems good for her, from everything she’s said. He actually… I dunno, he seems familiar to me and I can’t put my finger on what it is. Reminds me of one of her exes maybe? I feel like I know him.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure you know Hope’s boyfriend…”
“Do I?”
“You haven’t figured it out yet?”
“What do you know that you’re not telling me?”
“Many, many things, my dearest husband. As always.”
Mark rolled his eyes at the cheeky tone. “And what, in specific, am I missing this time?”
“Be patient. You’ll know in about three hours.”
“More like four,” Mark said ruefully, looking at the GPS screen integrated into the dashboard. “God, I’ve never seen this many red lines outside of the cities.”
“It’s a holiday week and there’s a blizzard coming.” His hand was suddenly gripped anxiously. “I swear to god, Marcus, if we end up stranded at a roadside B and B halfway between Baltimore and the Poconos, I will murder you in the shower, Psycho -style.”
“That was a motel, hon, and… noted.” Mark steered onto the congested highway. “But we’re not going to get stranded. I promise.”
-5-
“Cheeto me,” Taeya said with a grabby hand toward the worn passenger seat. John pressed the crinkly bag into her hand with a chuckle. “Thanks, cookie!”
“Oh my god, don’t call me cookie!” John groaned.
“But it’s your name!” Taeya grinned unrepentantly, neon orange dust standing out starkly on her dark skin. John reached over and brushed it off with his thumb, a patient expression on his face.
“You’re giving me playground flashbacks…”
“Did the kids tease you?” She pouted a little, somehow simultaneously sympathetic and mocking. “John Cooke with an E? Cookie?”
“It’s not a hard leap, as you clearly just proved.” John took the cheeto bag from her and poured a few into his own mouth. “They called me Cookie Monster and ran away from me a lot.”
He uncapped a water bottle and handed it to her before she could ask. She smiled in thanks and took a small swig. Road trip rules were strict about liquid intake, and she and John were nothing if not professional roadtrippers. He crunched thoughtfully on the cheetos for a moment before switching the song on his phone hooked to the stereo through a fraying aux cord. Immediately, they both grinned and belted the opening lines of the song. John attempted a harmony with her melody but didn’t quite make it. He wrinkled his nose in distaste.
“Nice try, bunny,” Taeya teased. She kept her eyes on the road, but they both knew she was waiting for his reaction.
“No, not that one either,” he said decisively.
“But it fits! You look like a cute little bunny sometimes.” Taeya scrunched her nose back at him. “It’s really sweet.”
“You’re killing me and my fragile masculinity, Tae,” he said sarcastically. He took the water bottle from her, capped it, and handed her a napkin.
“Your masculinity is just fine. Your muscles have muscles and you also cry at Hallmark movies. You contain multitudes.” She rolled her eyes. “Besides, we need pet names! You’re being a buzzkill.”
“What’s wrong with babe or honey like every other couple in America?”
“Because we’re not like every other couple in America. I mean, look at me. Do I look like anyone you’ve ever seen before?” She batted her lashes at him for a fraction of a second before she focused back on the slick, winding mountain pass ahead of them. She knew he was taking in her cornrow mohawk and librarian-style spectacles, and she also knew she looked amazing and that he agreed. “I am uniquely me and you are uniquely you and I would really like something that is uniquely ours, Monsieur Grumpypants.”
“I like that one,” he quipped. “But it’s a little too French. My ancestry’s more on the Scandinavian side of Europe.”
“Yes, well, while I enjoy looking at your fit white ass, the Scandinavians are just boring. I’m ninety-nine percent sure that the way to address a grown man is just Mister in Danish, Norwegian, and Luxembourgish.”
“There is no fucking way that Luxembourgish is the name of the language spoken by the people of Luxembourg.” He scoffed. “First of all, they probably just speak French or German or something. But wouldn’t it be Luxembourgian?”
“Look it up,” she challenged, running her tongue across the front of her top teeth in distaste for his doubt (and possibly to make sure she didn’t have cheetos in her teeth). He was already pulling his phone closer to his face and making a tangle of the aux cord. The music crackled for a second until he took a little more care.
“No way…” he breathed, swiping and scrolling in disbelief. He looked up at her as the small hatchback’s engine struggled up a steep hill. She shifted gears smugly. “You know the weirdest shit. Your brain must be a really interesting place to live in.”
“You have no idea,” she said, a dark tinge to her tone. She cackled madly after a second. “It’s really fucking awesome, actually.” John grinned back at her and twined their hands together.
“And yet it can’t come up with a unique pet name?” John teased, tugging her back on topic even if he wasn’t sure he’d enjoy where it would lead. Taeya sighed dramatically.
“I guess we’re just going to have to let it happen organically.” She sighed again even deeper. “Boring.”
“Whatever you want, my little sweet potato.”
“Ew, no. No food names.”
“You literally just--”
“Was that the turn?” Taeya asked, glancing over her shoulder at the street sign they’d just passed.
“Uh…?” John looked at his phone, which was still helpfully telling him about three administrative languages of Luxembourg -- two of which were French and German, thank you very much -- and not at all showing the map of the remote cabin they were trying to reach in a snowstorm.
“Shotgun’s supposed to navigate. Why aren’t you navigating, shotgun?” she accused.
“There’s a pet name if I ever heard one,” he muttered, switching quickly back to the map. “Looks like it’s the next one, actually. We’re good.”
“Thanks, Shotgun.” She smirked at him. “Can I have a cookie, Shotgun?”
“That’s not going away anytime soon, is it?” he asked as he slid a whole Girl Scout Thin Mint straight into Taeya’s mouth, like a CD into a player. She crunched around it in surprise, grunting out a muffled confirmation unrepentantly. “Lovely. I’m sure a moniker like that is really going to win the respect and admiration of all your friends this week.” She finished chewing and swallowed to free her mouth.
“It’s going to be such a great week!” As she slowed the car to take the turn he’d indicated, the engine made an ominous clonking sound, but she continued as if nothing were amiss. “I can’t wait for you to meet them all. Especially my bestie! Meeps is the best of the besties.”
“Do you call anyone in the group by their real names?” He twined his fingers with hers, nerves increasing the closer they got to the cabin. There was about to be a lot of new people in a very short amount of time in a fairly enclosed space. He had a hard time refusing Taeya anything, but definitely not something as important as this trip. But it still made him a little anxious. “And am I going to get to learn any of them?”
“Hmmmm…” Taeya thought for a moment. “You ask a very interesting question, Shotgun. No, I don’t think I do, actually. Gin and Llama, RM, Hobi, Twig and Gaga, and Meeps. Nope, none of them. Gin’s the closest, I think. His real name’s Jim. Well. Everyone else calls him Jimmy, but I suppose his real name is actually James. So there’s one, for you. For free even.” She grinned at him.
“And you call him Gin because….” he asked, preparing a second cookie as a bribe in case she decided to be stubborn.
“He brought Tanqueray to our first college party when everyone else brought Pabst and Boone’s Farm. Hobi and I couldn’t stop mocking him. At some point, it became a habit. Meeps and Llama are the only ones who don’t call him Gin most of the time. I guess that’s where all the nicknames started, actually…”
“Llama?” John said slowly. “You legitimately call one of your friends Llama and no one even raises an eyebrow?” Taeya shrugged.
“Oh, poor sweet innocent Shotgun…” She let go of his hand to tousle his hair like a child. He wriggled away and smoothed his shaggy hair back into place. “I’ve done a lot of crazier things. It takes a lot to rile them up these days.” Her fingers began idly running through his long hair. He loved when she did that.
“I’m…” He blinked and stopped himself. “No, you know what, I know better than to ask.” She gave him a winning smile. “But does that mean they’re going to see me as just another crazy thing you’re doing.” Taeya snorted and waggled her eyebrows suggestively at his phrasing but stopped when it was clear he was actually concerned.
“They’re going to love you!” She grabbed his hand again. He motioned to the left at a crossroads and she steered with one hand to follow. “Meeps is going to love you. Just wait. I mean, to be fair, I don’t think there’s a person alive that she doesn’t like. But there’s also definitely no one alive that doesn’t love her, so it balances. I think you two will really get along. You’ve got a lot in common, actually.”
“I’m excited to meet her,” he said, a nervous smile blossoming on his features. “Take the next right. The house should be the third driveway on the left.”