4... What Child is This?

“What in the hell is going on back there?” Gavin demanded – shrieked – in Jon’s ear.  “It’s been two hours and all we get is the request for a freaking playlist?  You’re pissing me off Mr. Ass-tastic.”

“Calm the fuck down,” Jon ordered, careful to keep his features schooled into a mask of neutrality.  With her headphones in, Petey couldn’t hear anything he said, but every so often her eyes would flick up for a quick scan of his face before returning to the little screen in her hand. 

“I will calm the fuck down when you tell me what is going on with my girl!”

Honestly, nothing was going on.  Two hours later and they had seen the orthopedist twice, but Petey’s obstetrician still hadn’t dragged her ass to the emergency room – and she was the only one his wife would allow to touch the baby or offer an opinion on her current state of pregnancy. 

While her obstinance should probably annoy the hell out of him, oddly enough, Jon was okay with it simply because Petey had spent three weeks at the beginning of this pregnancy vetting the good doctor.  She was the best and, thereby, the only one they were trusting with something of this magnitude.

That left his wife absorbing pre-term labor information at a pace that should have her qualified to take the medical board exam within the next hour, and Jon was left twiddling his toes.  The only accomplishments they had to their credit were a request for one of those 3D ultrasound things – which was being held pending the OB’s approval – and the continual monitoring of the still nameless and sexless Implet. 

Oh, wait.  There was one thing.  Maybe this tidbit would keep the Fairy Gaymother’s wings clipped for a while longer.

“Her ankle is sprained and the knee is just strained.  We do know that.” 

“What the hell is the difference and who really cares?  Bambino update por favor!”

I’m gonna clip him good – and permanently.

“Get the fuck off my back!” Jon gritted between clenched teeth, on the verge of going out to that waiting room and clipping the guy really good.  “I don’t have one.  If you need something to do, go home or pick out some names for the baby.”

“Names?  We’re naming the baby?”  Either Gavin had pulled in his fangs or he’d gotten better at talking around them, because he was sounding a whole lot friendlier now.  “Finally something I can get excited about!  You make sure the baby stays undead – like the Mama.  Curly Jo and I will find little Petey the perfect moniker.  If only the demonic diva would’ve found whether it’s a witch or warlock we’re having, this would be much easier.  You might wanna mention that.”

“We’re waiting on an ultrasound.  She’s decided it’s time.”

“Woot!  Raise the crypt roof!  Text me!”

And with that, the flamboyant man had moved on to things more interesting than talking to Jon.

“Thank God.”

“Is Gavin being difficult again?”

Knowing that he’d only murmured the last couple of words, Jon’s eyes zipped up to find that Petey’s phone rested on the baby bump and that her ear buds lay with them.  Inky hair was splayed across the little hospital pillow where her head now rested, leaving him with no idea how long she’d been watching and listening. 

“Is there a time when he’s not?”

“Not really,” she conceded with a weary smile before holding out her hand.  Tired wasn’t ideal, but it was preferable to her hyperanxiety, so he would take it without complaint and folded diminutive fingers into his. 

“You ready to hang up your shingle as an OB?”

“No,” came the husky chuckle that always warmed his heart.  “I’ll stick with electronic components instead of people, but at least I understand what might be happening and some of the options for dealing with it.”

“And did you find an option that you’re good with?”

“Not particularly.  They can give me medicine to stop contractions, then more medicine to speed the development of the baby’s lungs, neither of which appeal to me.  As much as I’m not ready for this, I think I’m going to have to trust that he or she is.”  Wet, pink eyes found his.  “I’m sorry, Jonny.”

Rising form the uncomfortable plastic chair, he propped his forearms on the bedrail and brought his other hand up to sandwich hers for a kiss.  “You didn’t do anything to be sorry for, Sugar.  It’s not like you were out skiing or skydiving.  You slipped, and shit like that just happens sometimes.

“You know I want this baby, don’t you?”

“Well I sure as hell hope so,” he drawled, swiping a thumb under her right eye to come away with a wet, black smudge of eyeliner.  “I’d hate to think all those fucking fertility potions were just a way to pass the time.”

It was just enough to coax her beautiful dimples out of hiding.  “Stop.  I just didn’t want you to think I was wishing it away or something, and that’s what happened.  Pregnant women aren’t the most highly rational creatures roaming the earth.”

“Unless they’ve got a magical playlist to channel their brainpower with.  What did Dave hook you up with, anyway?”

The dimples went shallow with the wry twist of her lips as she offered Jon her phone.  “I hate him, but it kept the reciting at bay, so my hatred isn’t really justified.”

Punching the button that would bring the screen to life, Jon quickly skimmed over the list: 

“Devil’s Child, Christmas with the Devil, Shout at the Devil, Sympathy for the Devil, Friend of the Devil and… an orca’s song?”

“Scroll down.  There’s also the Humpback whale’s birthing cry, a blue whale song and Weird Al’s Fat.”

He snorted and gently returned the phone to her belly, thinking that his friend had a wicked sense of humor and a big set of balls.   “You notice he only does this shit when hospital security is between you and him?”

“He’s a pain in the ass, not stupid.”  Petite fingers came to sweep his bangs out of his eyes.  “Are you hoping the ultrasound shows a boy or a girl?”

He had a daughter whom he loved dearly, and three sons that were the best and worst parts of him, so  Jon considered himself fulfilled in the child department.  There was no doubt that the newest munchkin would come along and fill a part of him that he didn’t realize was empty, but until then, his life was complete. 

It had been complete since this quirky little imp with her bad ass attitude and cotton candy heart had moved into all the vacancies of his heart and soul.  She was the one who filled him in a way that no one else could, and no one else would.

“I want whatever leaves my wife healthy,” he confessed openly into her eyes.  “I won’t know what I’m missing with this kid, but you…  I’ll know exactly what I’m missing and it’ll kill me.  I can’t make it without you, Petey.”

“Oh for the love of God!”  She pushed the thumb and forefinger of one hand into the corners of her eyes to stave off the tears that wanted to flow.  “Like I’m not having enough problems here?  Now you’re writing obituaries for both me and the baby?  Where’s Gavin?  He might piss me off, but at least I’ll stay alive.”

Okay, so maybe his heartfelt revelation wasn’t particularly well-timed.  It was sincere, but he was still a dumbass.  How did he salvage this?

Thank God an incoming text message chimed, and when he withdrew it from his pocket, Jon saw that Petey had summoned her best friend. 

“Nobody’s dying, but I might’ve made a grave mistake in telling Gavin he could suggest some baby names.”

“You did what?”  The tears were gone, and was quite sure about that, because her eyes were as wide as saucers.  “You did not tell Gavin he could name my baby.”

A quick skim of the names, accompanied by justification had Jon torn between laughter and horror.  “I told him to pick out some names.  I never said we’d use them, and Lord, God, Jesus… That was a brilliant stroke of foresight on my part.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“Oh, you’re gonna know,” he cheekily informed her.  “Would you like to start with the demons or the vampires?”

The plastic pillow crunched beneath her head when she let it drop back with a groan.  “I’d ask if you’re kidding, but I know you’re not.  As long as ‘Gaga’ isn’t on the list, give me the demons.”

“Diabolos, Abigor, Ravana, Seth are the male versions.”

“Seth is a demon?  I picture Seth in a pink button-down shirt and loafers.”

“Evidently, it’s Egyptian mythology.  ‘God of Chaos, Desert and Storm’.”

One dimple flashed as she shook her head.  “Whatever.  None of those are happening.”

“Not even David’s contribution?  ‘Samael, the Jewish Grim Reaper’.”

That brought the other dimple out to play, along with her husky laugh.  “That’s frigging funny, but no.  What about the girls?”

“Batibat, Lamia, Lilith, Pandora, Mara, empusa, Jezebeth, and Prosperine.  That last one has an asterisk and ‘nailed it’ next to it, since she’s the princess of Hell.”

“Pandora’s not horrible, but no hellacious princesses.  What about the vampire list?”

“Alaric, Spike, Vlad, Malcolm, Draven, Ambrosia, Bronwen, Zurie and Layla.  Bronwen also has the ‘nailed it’ notation for ‘dark and beautiful’.”

With her pierced brow lifted high, his imp scratched at her nose and gave Jon an assessing look.  “Well, the vampires are markedly better than the demons, but I don’t even want to see what the media will do with that – and my mother.  She will completely disown me.”

Jon doubted that, but Teresa would be none too happy.  “My mother would shit a brick.”

That made her snort loudly because one of Petey’s favorite hobbies was making his mother shit a brick.  She’d taken infant tattoo designs over to the house last week for that very purpose, asking Carol’s opinion on whether the skull or the bat would be more appropriate for the next Bongiovi grandchild.   Used to her daughter-in-law’s shenanigans by now, his mother had chosen the skull – with a bat on top.

“Fortunately for both of mothers, I was thinking more along the lines of Angelica.  Christmas angels, Angel Orensanz Foundation…  It just seems appropriate somehow.”

Angelica.  Trust his wife to come up with something that was the complete opposite of what everyone else was expecting her to do.  Jon recognized some of Gavin’s choices from his own foray into the demonic baby name websites – because he’d thought she might like them, too.

“It’s pretty.  What if it’s a boy?”

“I don’t know yet.”  She laid her palm over the tiny protrusion on her left side, stroking the baby’s kicking foot with her thumb.  “All the rest of your boys have names that start with J.  Do you want another J?”

“That wasn’t planned, it just happened, so don’t read anything into it.  I was into cowboys with Jesse, Jacob was just a name Dot liked, and Romeo Jon was…  Well, you know.”

“Thank God he got your name, because Romey is the spitting image of his mother.”

All of his kids had features that were like his in some way, but his wife was right; it was harder to see in Romeo. 

“I personally hope little Angelica is the spitting image of her mother.” 

A dark-haired beauty with ice blue eyes and dimples would suit him just fine, and if she happened to have the genius gene, that would be great, too.  His vanity hoped that she could sing and carry on his legacy, since none of the other kids were, but other than that, he was completely on board with a miniature Petey.

“I come up with a single name and you’ve suddenly decided we’re having a daughter?”

Jon’s head tipped toward the shoulder that lifted in a shrug.  “Better than having an ‘it’.  Makes me think of that goddamn clown.”

“I have yet to deliver an ‘it’,” Petey’s doctor informed him dryly propping reading glasses on the end of her nose as she entered the exam room.  “Good evening, Bongiovis.  I’m sorry it took me so long to get here.  Traffic was awful, and with the snow falling…  Yuck.  Tell me what brings you here.”

Jon suspected that was a ploy to keep his wife on an even keel while Dr. Spanos took inventory of the baby monitor and Petey’s vital signs.  Even so, as she probed the swollen orb of a belly, she nodded attentively until the very end of the tale of today’s adventure.

“So these back spasms,” the good doctor ventured, shoving the reading glasses into her short cap of silver hair.  “How often are they presenting now?”

Pink eyes darted in Jon’s direction.  “I…  At first they were about ten minutes apart, but I haven’t had one in…  at least an hour.”

“Excellent.  Sounds like you pissed baby off real good and maybe tweaked your back a little.  Just the same, I’m going to do an ultrasound just so we all have warm fuzzies about the whole thing.  The nursing staff said you requested one, anyway, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Petey confirmed.  “I’m ready to know the baby’s gender.”

An even, white smile found its way to Dr. Spanos’s face.  “I already know, so we can play this however you like.  Do you want me to just tell you, or would you like to enjoy the full experience of seeing blurry baby bits when you find out?”

“Blurry baby bits.”  The heads of both the doctor and his wife spun toward him in unison, wearing similar expressions of amusement and disbelief.  “What?  Just because it’s my fifth kid doesn’t mean I’m jaded to the whole thing.”

“Then blurry baby bits it is,” Dr. Spanos chuckled.  “Hang out here for just a few more minutes, and we’ll make sure everything looks good with your son or daughter.”