NANOWRIMO Day 3

Day one here if you haven't read it yet


Thanks to my husband, today's post is the equivalent of days 3/4 even though I will also be doing the normal 1667 for day 4 as well. Anyways, on with the story. (still need a title)



So, as per usual I laughed and gave Spencer a kiss on the cheek. “One lasagna a day would be

“One lasagna a day would be enough.” I said, biting another forkful into my mouth. I was starting to become full after the third helping. I got up from the table and wrapped the bowl in saran-wrap before putting it into the fridge for later. I yawned sleepily and took Spencer’s hand as I walked back to the bedroom, dragging him with me. I kissed him, then climbed back into the bed, dragging him with me. He didn’t complain, just asked if while I was laying there sleeping he could see how the game was going. I told him he could, since the point of my being back in bed was to go to sleep.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asked me once I got myself comfortable in his arms. I yawned again, very glad that I had till tomorrow night to get my act together.

“I’m not hungry. And I’m not even really tired. I’d rather stay up and do something. But I am exhausted. Like physically. Which kind of sucks cause if I was sleepy, then I’d just go unconscious, but it’s my body that is exhausted.” I explained, yawning yet again.

“Sorry Marti.”

I laughed and playfully pushed him. “That’s not your fault.” I’m just probably not getting enough sleep.”
He kissed me on the forehead again. “Then rest. I’m just going to see if the game is still on.” I needed ok and closed my eyes. When we were dating, I was psyched to find a guy that wasn’t really into sports. What I didn’t know, until after marriage, is that his “sport” was on ESPN in the evenings. He liked to watch Scrabble tournaments.

I still haven’t figured out why. As with most guys and football, baseball, soccer, basketball, or put in other voyeuristic sport enthusiast’s normal sport of choice, Spencer couldn’t play Scrabble if his life depended on it.

I actually got him to enthusiastically play a few games after I had learned of his secret “game” the first year we were married, for. He said that he loved the game but had never played, so immediately after opening the game, we sat down to playing our own game. He knew all the rules, naturally. He kept score practically in his head. And I could see him evaluating the amount of points he’d get for various plays in his head. Still, despite that it quickly became apparent that he couldn’t play Scrabble at all. At the end of the game I had 450 points and he had 175, despite all his calculations.

He reached around me to the remote and flipped on ESPN Tournaments. Currently there were high school cheerleaders doing different dance routines on the screen. Spencer turned down the volume to nearly mute and lie there holding me, waiting for Scrabble hour to begin. I don’t know what would happen to him if we were not able to afford to keep our satellite television. I don’t think cable has any channel that shows Scrabble games on an other-daily schedule. I watched a few of the cheerleader routines before snuggling into Spencer’s chest and closing my eyes, surrendering consciousness to sleep.

When I woke up, it was morning again. Late morning. The sun was shining fiercely into my eyes through the window and I’d guess that it was nearing noon. I flicked my eyes to the clock and it said it was 1pm. That sucked. That meant in three and a half hours I was due in to work again. Though, I did feel marginally better. Marginally.

“Spence!” I yelled to the other room in the apartment.

“Yes?” He said, entering the room. “Everything OK?”

“I need an Excedrine, please. Major headache and that sun isn’t helping.” I covered my head with my pillow and blanket so as to block out the light.

He went to the bathroom and came back with that magically red bottle. I don’t know what made Excedrine work, but I found it to be a gift from God. He also brought in a full glass of cold, over-sugared, tea- just the way I like it. After taking the pills I laid back on the pillows again and closed my eyes, thinking that I’d get up when the pain subsided. I could feel the veins on my temple throbbing and figured it’d be best to wait until that was normal before trying to carry on with my already-shortened day.
“I went to your parents house this morning. They are worried about you.”

“I hope you didn’t scare them.”

“I didn’t. I just said that you were sleeping.”

“At what time?”

“I dunno, probably around 11 or so.”

“Crap. I better call and let them know I’m not passed out in a coma.” I pulled the pillow off of my head and reached to the nightstand to get my cell phone. “Did you get Linux installed then?”

“Yup. Easy Cheesy. Your dad didn’t really want to do anything very complicated with it. You know how he is about open source though.”

That was very true. My parents, while never hippies or even activists, had very firm opinions about what should cost money and how much. To their credit, they were realistic. They didn’t think that everything should be free. They’d happily pay 200 dollars for a good computer without complaining. It was the 2,000 dollar computers they had issues with. They didn’t bat an eye at paying 98 cents for bread, but now that it’s frequently over four dollars for a single loaf… well, lets just say that you should approach Mom with caution on grocery shopping days. I fell somewhere in the middle. I hated spending all my money on groceries, but I didn’t see that there was much I could do about the issue.

One of my parents’ more admirable solutions was to move to an area where they had a little bit of land, a little less than an acre, and plant a full garden. It didn’t have a ton of any one given crop, but they instead had 100 square feet of one crop, about ten feet away from that 100 square feet of another crop, and another ten feet from that another 100 square foot of another crop. In between the different plots of crops, were planted trees. They planted apple trees, peach trees, nectarine trees, cherry trees, apricot trees, lemon trees, lime trees, orange trees, and pomegranate trees. For crops they had corn, wheat, strawberries, pumpkins, potatoes, tomatoes, and carrots. Near the house they had a pecan and walnut tree as well. The only thing I can think of that they lacked was farm animals. I think my parents would rather pay overpriced prices for already dead meat than kill the animals themselves though.

I opened up my phone and keyed in my parents number. “Hello?” I said into the phone.

“O Martina sweetie, it’s you! How are you doing? Are you running a fever?”

“No, Mom. I’m just fine. I just passed out last night. I probably worked myself too hard yesterday morning. It was worth it though. I got seventy five dollars. That’s not bad for a Tuesday morning.” I said, and then inexplicably I burped. It was a loud one too. Which is very much not me. I don’t burp ever. I apologized to my mother but she seemed more worried about me than my indiscretion.

“Are you sure? Did you drink last night? I know you are over 21, but part of that means being responsible with alcohol. You’re such a smart girl. And you know your father and I won’t love you any less, I just want you to be healthy. What would happen if you found out that you were pregnant? You said you quit taking the shot, and try though you might, I know you are no good at taking pills. That’s one thing you inherited from me.”

“I didn’t drink last night. I passed out too early to drink. Like I said, I probably have been over-working myself. Spencer and I are being careful. I just didn’t think that the shot was worth that much money every three months, not to mention the doctor visit bills. We know we’re in no condition to have a child. We’re enjoying our time when it’s just us. I know you want grandchildren, and you will have them. Just not now. Maybe when Spencer is out of college and teaching. It’s only another semester.”

“I do want grandchildren, but again I just want you to be happy. You’d be such a good mother. I can see it in your eyes. But I know you guys aren’t ready for that yet. But if you are off of birth control, you need to be careful about drinking. You’d never forgive yourself if you caused a child you didn’t even know existed to develop abnormally.”

“We’re being careful.” I reiterated. I was so glad that me and my mother were close enough to talk about all this like adults. Though I did wish she believed me about the not-drinking thing. I was responsible when I did drink, not allowing myself to get past a little tipsy. If the world started spinning, I quit drinking. And I most definitely did not drink last night. “I just wanted to call and tell you I was OK. Spencer said you were worried.”

“You’re just so full of life and energy. You keep me and your dad young. It was sad not seeing you today, and sadder still to hear you were knocked out. I’m glad you are feeling better. Do you work tonight? Your father and I were thinking about going out. We could ask for your table.”

“Yea, I’ll be in at 5.” I said, checking for the time. I still had 3 hours till I had to be there, which meant about two and a half hours of livable time.

“That will work well then. Your father doesn’t like to eat until six anyways. We’ll see you later honey.”
“Ok, love you Mom.”

“I love you too. Tell Spencer your dad likes the new operating system.”

“I will. Bye.” I said, hanging up the phone.

“Mom says that dad is really enjoying his new operating system.” I said, placing the phone back on the nightstand.

“Glad to hear it.” Spencer said. “Your headache any better?”

“Yea. Can’t feel it anymore.”

“Good.” He said, taking his spot next to me on the bed. He kissed me with those kisses that are so familiar to anyone who is happily married, or who has ever been happily married. It was the kind of kiss that didn’t suggest or demand more. It was one of the kisses that was perfect, even though it didn’t have to be cause if it wasn’t there’d be a trillion more where that came from. It was the kiss that said “I am glad to be with you.” The kiss that said “Hi.”

“I’m so lucky to have you.” I said, looking into his dark brown, chocolatey eyes. That was one of the things that made me fall in love with him. Whenever we got into a serious conversation about something he was passionate about, or when we kissed, or made love, his brown eyes which are always deep and dark take on the texture of melted chocolate. Creamy, almost milky. And it’s intoxicating.

“I’m the lucky one.” He said, hugging me tightly to his side. “You are my world. The only one that hold my heart and gives me reason to not give up hope when things get hard.”

“Speaking of, how are classes coming?”

“Slowly. I have a student-teacher thing I have to do next week.”

“I thought you did that last semester?”

“I did. This is kind of a final exam of sorts. My advisor is supposed to be in the back of the class while I conduct classes for that week. I’ll probably be staying late as he wants to see how I grade papers and there’s a few interview-like tests I get to go through too. I’m not worried about it, it’ll be an additional reference and experience thing I can put on my resume. I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t freak if I was out a bit next week.”

“Thanks. It’ll be fine. I’ll probably be working a lot anyways. Have you got a job secured for when you graduate?”

“Not yet, I’ll probably get on at Southside Elementary.” Two weeks before graduation there is supposed to be a job fair. And my advisor will advise me until I have a job.”

“I can’t believe I married a soon-to-be elementary teacher.” I sighed with a joking grin on my face. “At least I know you’ll be good with kids.”

“Kids I’m good with. It’s the infant stage you’ll have to worry about.”

“As if. You’ll be a great father. Someday.” I said. At the mention of his becoming a father his eyes went wide, like deer in headlights.

“Someday.” He repeated, his face relaxing.

I kissed him again before standing up. “I’m starving. Let’s get something to eat.”

“Lasagna? You still have some left.”

“Nah, that’s ok. I’ll keep it for later. I’m thinking about having a pizza.” I said padding my way to the kitchen. I reached into the freezer and pulled out a Tony’s pizza. “You want some?”

“I’ll eat what you don’t.” Spencer said, following me to the kitchen.

I laughed mockingly. “Hope you aren’t hungry, because I could eat the whole thing.” I reached under the counter to get the pizza pan. I put the pizza on the pan and then into the oven for ten minutes.

“You will at least leave one piece. And if you don’t, I’ll take the leftover lasagna.”

“Might want to say your prayers. I’m starving.” I sat down at the bar and held my hand over my mouth while an undeveloped burp slipped out of me.”

“Are you OK?” Spencer asked immediately when I swallowed and dropped my hand.

“Yea. Just a bit gassy I guess. Hope it ends before my shift. Customers, even that ‘manly man’ ones aren’t impressed by burping waitresses.”

“Have some tea.” Spencer said, getting up to pour me a glass.

“Thanks.” I said, drinking about half the glass before sitting it down. “Don’t be surprised if I’m not home till early morning. I’ll most likely get closing, and you know how I hate leaving all the work for the morning crew to do. Probably cause I usually am the morning crew.” I sighed. “Not like anyone else really cares.”

“But that is what’s so great about you. You care. You do the job, happily, and you don’t leave it for others just because you can. You are an amazing person.”

“Biased.”

“Not bi!” He said, raising his arms in a surrendering gesture.

We continued chatting until the pizza timer went off. I went over to the oven and puled out the pizza, cutting it into eight slices and giving four to myself and four to Spencer. He started right in on his pizza. I took a bite out of mine, chewed it up and swallowed before handing my four slices to him as well. “You know,” I said, feigning nonchalance. “I’m not as hungry as I thought.”

“You sure? That’s a lot of overestimating.” Spencer said, concern in his voice. “You barely had a single bite, much less the whole pizza.”

“Yea, I know. I guess I overestimated how much I wanted. You enjoy it. I’m just going to drink this tea.” I said, refilling my glass to full.

“Ok, if you’re sure.” Spencer bit into his second piece and condensed the two paper plates down to one.

“I am. I’m going to go check some stuff on the internet though. If that’s ok.”

“Sure, go ahead. I think your dad Facebooked you.”

I headed into the main room where we kept our computers. I set on the couch and opened up my laptop, checking my email which was full to capacity with junk mail. Also, Crystal had sent about 15 different chain letters to me. If those things work, I hope that my non-participating doesn’t affect her. She’ll send me on average twenty different ones a day. I can’t say that her life is charmed, but then again she hasn’t died of a horrible car wreck or anything. And while I personally didn’t think that “If you deny me in front of your peers I’ll deny you in front of my Father” meant that if you didn’t send on an email titled “I BELIEVE IN JESUS CHRIST”, then you’d go to Hell, I could admire her for passing them on. It’s not that I didn’t believe, it’s not even that I was ashamed to believe. Just that I didn’t think that sending along an email would help secure me a room inside the heavenly gates. Heck, there’s probably a special level of Hell for those that obsessively forward messages onto their friends. Not that I want Crystal to be in Hell. I don’t think she’d qualify. For one, she never forwards the same email twice. Even the “I BELIEVE IN JESUS CHRIST” emails had to be different from a previous one for her to send it on. I flipped through the emails reading each one. Though I never participated, I found chain mail fascinating.

Seriously, have you read them all the way through? It makes me laugh when I read one that says “if you don’t send this on your love life will suffer for five years.” Luckily, my lack of forwarding on emails has yet to cause me to end up in the divorce court. I still have my head on my neck and all of my fingers and toes. And while it’s true that I’ve never gotten a check in the mail from Bill Gates, I don’t think Crystal has either so I think I’m doing ok, even if all the bad luck in the world is supposed to be following me around.

And for another reason as to why Crystal isn't going to Hell, I’m not entirely convinced that she actually forwards them all in the first place. I think some of them are just to amuse me. If so, they do their job well.

My dad had Facebooked me a message making sure I was doing OK since he noticed I hadn’t been online yesterday. He cautioned me to make sure I didn’t over work myself and wanted to say he loved me.

After checking my inboxes and replying to Dad, I updated my Facebook and Twitter statuses to say that I was up and ready for a day at work before signing off the computer.

Spencer had finished up the pizza and took the computer from me when he sat down. “Mind if I check on some stuff?”

“College?”

“No, I’ll do that when you are at work. Just maintenance. Email, Facebook, news, stuff like that.”
“We have satellite television and you get your news from the web.” I sighed, shaking my head as I handed over the computer.

“That’s for the game.” He said matter-of-factly. He never actually said the word Scrabble and Tournaments in the same sentence. Even when it was just us it was “the game”. In public, it sounded like he was into any normal sport. Though, I have seen strangers give us strange looks when standing in line and he says something like “I hope we make it in time for the game” on the day after the Superbowl.

“Please tell me that we are not paying for satellite television just so that you can watch Scrabble tournaments.”

“The game. It’s for the game.” He said, I suppose correcting me on actually calling it what it is.

“Besides, you get plenty of enjoyment out of the fact that we have satellite too.”

I rolled my eyes. It’s not like I could do anything about his silly antics. We had a contract. Satellite will continue to get our money are least for the next year. “I’m going to go get ready for work.” I said, noticing the clock now read 4pm.

“Can I come watch?”

I laughed. “You want to watch me put on clothes? By all means, I guess that’s OK.”

“Well,” He began, a glint gleaming in his eye, “in order to put clothes on you first must take them off."



Day four here!