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The cringe on my face is instant. “Is that a reference I’m supposed to get?”
“You’ve never seen the movie Gremlins?!” Her shouting shifts to the device I’m holding. “What is wrong with your child?!”
“He got nightmares very easily and with me not always being home through the night, it was just better to avoid anything that might spook him until he was about sixteen.”
“This explains more than you know.”
“Boys,” I loudly invade, interrupting their humorous moment at my expense. “We’re having twin boys.”
“Awwww,” she coos even more enthusiastically, “I’m having grandboys!”
Against her own volition, Harlow’s shoulders slightly sag under the weight of my mom’s excitement.
“Everyone’s healthy and developing like they should be, but due to the increase of occupants in Harlow’s stomach, we will now be going to the doc twice a month instead of once.”
“Which is absolutely normal,” Mom swiftly reassures, spreading more relief in my woman’s gaze. “Good doctors want to be prepared and have you prepared versus having to do damage control after the fact.”
“Makes sense,” Harlow quietly concedes.
“And just be aware, you may be end up being scheduled for a c-section as well. This doesn’t mean you’ve done anything wrong or fucked up the process. It doesn’t make you less of a woman or a shitty parent for not delivering vaginally. Sometimes that shit is just about safety for all lives involved. And, Hennington, the only thing me and B want is for all lives involved to be okay. Okay?”
Her eyes swing to me where she spots a smug smirk.
Yeah.
Like mother, like son.
“Young lady,” Mom firmly states, expecting to be answered.
“Yes, ma’am,” Harlow answers on a faint smile.
“Good. Now that that’s settled, we can wrap this shit up. I was just calling to see how everything went.”
“Appreciate it, Nora,” the chick next to me says before I can even open my mouth. “A lot.”
She releases a small hum. “You’re too sweet for my boy. You know that?”
“I do.”
“Excuse you guys,” I mirthfully grouse. “I am in the vehicle.”
“Such a whiner,” Harlow playfully scolds. “You better not teach our kids how to do that shit.”
“I love you, B.”
“I love you, too, Mom.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
“Always.”
Ending the conversation is followed by something I’m not expecting whatsoever.
Harlow completely angles herself to face me as she confesses, “I want that shit.”
“What shit?”
“I want our sons to…call me or text me or come to me for shit like you do your mom. I wanna be…like your mom. I wanna be the mom I never fucking had and assumed I didn’t deserve.” Her fingers tangle together uncomfortably in her lap. “Look, I know, I’m not the best with processing all this shit, but I want our kids. And even if I’m not ready for them or have no idea how to handle them, it won’t stop me from trying or trying again when I fuck up. And no matter what? I will never say that having them is the worst thing to ever happen to me.”
Cautiously, I investigate, “Is that…what your mother said to you?”
“Not to me but about me while in a screaming match with my dad to which he countered by saying having me was the best thing to ever happen to him.” Her grin briefly returns. “And he fought like hell for full custody because he really did want me, yet she fought like hell because she knew she could get more money. Everything is about money with her. Fucking. Everything.”
“You should know something, right now, Harlow.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m gonna be like your dad, baby.” The promise is accompanied by my hand reaching over to fold with hers. “I’m gonna be here for my boys. And I’mma fight like hell to be in their lives no matter what does or doesn’t happen between us.” A tight squeeze is given from her. “They’re gonna know me. They’re gonna know you. And no matter what, they’re gonna know us. They’re gonna know that we’re on the same team when it comes to them and whatever they need.”
Instead of adding on anything else, she simply smiles, nods in agreement, and directs her attention to her own phone that’s now vibrating for attention.
Our drive home mainly consists of her working, which is pretty on brand for our time together in the car. While she doesn’t tell me about everything she’s dealing with or every email she’s answering, she does involve me at unpredicted times. Lately—today included—we’ve been discussing different warm up music to try out pre-season.
Music is definitely one of the topics I prefer us to discuss.
I don’t have to refer to one of the five Ws nearly as often.
“I think ‘Legends Are Made’ is a great onto the ice song,” I agree at the same time we exit the SUV, “but-”
“No buts,” Harlow immediately denies.
“But don’t be afraid to think out the box. The chorus to ‘Last Man Standing’ by Bon Jovi would send a pretty solid message.”
