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Snapping her fingers along with a sharp nod of her head towards the door, she added like a Drill Sergeant, “So, hop to it! That beautiful pain-in-both-our-asses is about to give birth toyourson,mywonderful nephew, the child who will become the best defensive lineman ever to be drafted by the Dallas Cowboys in the history of football, and nobody’s gonna keep Rox from gettin’ what Rox wants. Not you, and definitely not me. I like my head on top of my shoulders where the Great Goddess intended.”
More nodding for added effect, and Macy opened her eyes wider. Lifting her hand off Lou’s shoulder, she immediately deposited it on her hip, then ended with an incredibly satisfied, “Mm-hmm, you know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout, Bub of mine.”
Clearing her throat and clicking her tongue to be sure her point was crystal clear, she continued by making her southern drawl even more pronounced. "Let me mansplain this for you because I think you might have forgotten the World According to Rox, m’kay? Picture this. You will call. She will answer with a sweet, “Hey, Hon. How you doin’?” Then, your wife - the love of your life - and my one and only sister will say it’s okay when you tell her that you are runnin’ late. She will even be all lovey dovey and shit and tell you she loves you with all her heart and then some before she hangs up, ‘cause she does. Never doubt that. God knows I’ve had to hear about your wonderfulness for more years than I care to remember.”
“As well she should, and you should take note of that because, after all, I am quite a catch.”
Ignoring his comment, the goofy grin on his face, as well as the silly snicker, Macy forged on. “You know as well as I do that you will get the patented Roxanne-sweetness-love-and-light smile when you finally walk through the door. She’ll give you a kiss on the cheek, pat your shoulders, then ask if you want her to heat up the leftovers.”
Making her nod more emphatic and forcing her eyes open as wide as they could possibly go, Macy continued to spell out exactly what her sister would do, because messing with her brother-in-law was even more fun than Monday Night Football with all-you-can-eat wings and five-dollar pitchers of beer. "Then, about thirty seconds into the two-minute timer on the microwave, your loving wife, aka my beloved sister, in case you've forgotten who I'm referencing, will go from sweet, adoring Roxy to a screaming, crying, raving, overreacting pregnant lunatic. Furthermore, she will want to rip out your heart and serve it to the dogs on her best china with your fingers for hors d'oeuvres and your toes for dessert.”
Giving up on her pretense of being serious, Macy chuckled when Lou guffawed with such enthusiasm that he literally had to sit down before he fell down, but she wasn't done yet. "Oh, and at the same time, she's gonna be tellin' you how much she loves you. That you're her one true love, and she's sorry for being Mommazilla, but she just can't help it. She's gonna regale you with the roller coaster of emotions she's experiencing because the pregnancy hormones have taken over her body and her mind.”
Inhaling deeply, her own laughter making her words run together because the truth was so much funnier than anything she could ever make up, Macy couldn’t go on. Just picturing the scene she knew had already occurred several times since Rox found out she was pregnant was better than all the reruns of all their favorite TV shows she’d ever watched with her mom, dad, and grandparents.
It didn't matter that all her relatives -except for Rox – had passed in a fire when she was a teenager. They lived in her heart and soul, and she cherished the time she'd had with them.
“Sad, so damned sad. But true. So, fucking true,” the tall, lanky, bespectacled ex-New Yorker, now adopted Texan, howled. "She's gonna kill me then murder you, and the judge and jury are gonna say it was justifiable homicide because we knew better than to push our luck with a woman in the last two weeks of her pregnancy. Her attorney will argue that she gave us fair warning and we're to blame for not listening. The newspapers will splash her pictures all over every front page from here to NYC, and public opinion will be that you and I were the worst people on the face of the earth. They will liken us to the amoebas on the fleas on the asses of every pig in the whole state of Texas.”
“Oh, hell, yeah, and she won’t need OJ’s defense team. There won’t be a man or woman alive who’ll find her guilty. It’ll be allour fault, hands down, no question. They will even scatter our ashes on a coyote dung heap in the middle of the Chihuahuan Desert. Then put up a sign reading, 'Here lie the two stupidest people ever to wear boots, birth calves, and fix arthritic horses’ knees in the entire southern United States.”
"You know it," he gasped, working hard to get his hilarity under control and failing as bad as she was. "But I blame your dad. From every story y'all have ever told me about him, he's the one who gave y'all the hot Latin blood. God knows you're both always fired up about one thing or another. Now, for Roxy, it's mixed with baby hormones. Shit fire, nobody stands a chance, especially you and me."
“How many times do I have to tell you that we’re Mexican, not Latin?”
“You speak Spanish, don’t you?”
Laughing so hard she had to lean her hip against one of the many stainless-steel counters in the clinic to stay upright, Macy snorted, “Yeah, but so do you. So, what languages we speak means next to nothing. Because, well, no offense, your SPF 50 sunscreen needed to walk out the door skin sorta negates the chance that you're anything but Caucasian."
“Yeah, but we’re talking about the Lindon family tree, not mine. Your sister is hot and fiery and not afraid to put it all out there. She has a single-minded focus in everything she does. Hell, that's how we got pregnant, so…."
“Ewww. Yuck. Yuck. Yuck,” Macy shuddered, frantically shaking her head as she slapped her hands over her ears. “Stop! Stop that shit right now. I know where babies come from. Don’t you dare say another word. I’mma have to bleach my brain to get rid of the images of you and my sister having… having… having...”
“Go on,” he laughingly teased. “Say it. Say it. You know you want to. You know how much you love to explain things. Come on. Come on. Do it. Do it. Tell me all about the birds and the bees.”
“Noooooooo!”
Up out of the chair with hands extended, fingers wiggling like a handful of nightcrawlers, and a glint in his eye that meant he was up to no good, Lou’s hands latched onto her wrists. Playfully trying to wrestle her hands off her ears, he taunted, “What’s wrong, Macy? Why ya’ hiding those ears. You’re tough. You’re strong. You’re a doctor. You can do it.”
Laughing so hard she could barely breathe, Macy squealed, “No. Stop. I won’t do it. You can’t make me. My brain will explode and leak out my ears, and my precious little nephew will only ever know his amazing auntie as a drooling mess in a wheelchair he goes to see every other Sunday and on holidays in the home for crazy vets.”
Throwing back his head before giving an evil laugh, Lou roared, “Sex. Sex. Sex. I had sex with your sister. Many times. And I’ll do it again. We made a baby. We made your nephew. Nanny-nanny-boo-boo- I made a baby with your sister and might just do it again and again and again.”
Giving up the fight, laughing so hard her sides hurt and tears ran down her face, Macy let her head fall forward while breathing so hard it was worse than when she tried – and failed - to run a half marathon to raise money for the local ASPCA in college. “You’re a cruel man, Lou McDonald. A cruel, cruel man. You know I’m a visual thinker. You’ve just doomed me for life. Those images are burnt into my brain. I’ll never ever be able to have sex again.”
“Ha! Fat chance. You’ll see that… that… umm, what did you call him? Oh, yeah, long, tall, drink of water?" Nodding like a bobblehead on the dashboard of a Ford F-250, he cackled like the goofball he truly was. “Yup, that was it. That was what you said when your eyes nearly fell outta your head, and I thought I was gonna have to call 911 to get you breathing again." Slapping his leg as his shoulders bounced and he howled with laughter, he did his best Barry White imitation, "You'll see that long, tall drink of water, Jack Thorntree, and it'll all be over but thebow-chica-wow-wow.”
“Shut. Up. You cannevertell Rox about that. It was one time. I was tired. We’d been out in the sun for hours, and it was hot as Hell on a Tuesday.”
“Oh, yeah,youwere hot… and bothered.”
“God, I hate you.”
Shaking her head, unable to even come close to being mad at the cute nerd she adored almost as much as chocolate-chocolate chip cookies with cream cheese icing, Macy couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. Memories of howshe’d tricked her sister into meeting Lou at Mama’s Pizza all those years ago had her laughing even harder.
Trying to imitate the best lookin’ man God ever put in Texas - aka Jack Thorntree – Lou threw back his shoulders, puffed out his chest, and tucked his fingers in the front pockets of his jeans. Pretending to knock the imaginary Stetson back off his forehead, her crazy brother-in-law inadvertently knocked his glasses off the end of his nose. Then, because he was the most uncoordinated man in the world, he hit his elbow on the counter when bending over to pick them up and, as a grand finale, lost his balance when he tried to stand back up. No matter what Lou tried to do, no matter how hard he tried, the poor guy had the grace of a newborn foal with four left feet.
But he was a keeper… and a damned fine vet to boot.
