Page 7 of For Her
“What the…” I trail off in question and hike my thumb in the direction of the living room.
My mom rolls her eyes skyward and lets out a sigh.
“Your father isn’t coming to grips with the idea of being a grandfather as well as one would hope,” she explains, resting her hands on the counter as I nod in realization. “In fact, we’d been at Home Depot for supplies for converting the garage into some gritty home gym when you texted,” she rolls her eyes and lets out a cleansing huff before changing the subject and diving into the bag. “Speaking of, we dropped by the store and found what you asked for. Sea Bands, Vernors, gummy vitamins, some saltines, and some cranberry juice, because I always remember that helping your tummy troubles with you were little.” I ignore the mist that’s come over her eyes because acknowledging that will only make it worse. Clearly, my mother is dealing with some life-changing emotions of her own.
“Thank you so much, Mom,” I say, as I start putting the items away. “So… this thing with Dad, is it just a phase do you think?”
“God, I hope so,” she says exasperatedly, shrugging her coat off. “He’s in there talking to Jack about restoring his old Harley so he can ride it again. We’re talking textbook midlife crisis here.”
“Well, Jack will probably gladly help him with the bike and the garage. When he’s not touring, he gets twitchy and needs to keep busy and goes nuts on home projects around here,” I gesture my arms around me.
“No!” My mom holds her hand out in protest before looking around and lowering her voice. “Your father needs no help here. I mean, he needs something that will help him accept this whole thing. He’s totally paired being a grandparent with aging.”
“So let him go ahead and do all this if he wants. Let him be one of those cool grandpas, like Annie’s dad,” I shrug. My best friend has a six-month-old little girl, and her dad is a badass.
My mom wiggles her head side to side, considering this.
“Still, maybe Jack should focus on fixing up a nursery or something and your dad could help him.” I raise an eyebrow at her and she huffs again. “I want a place to park my damn car! If your dad wants to get in shape and all that shit, I want to put it off until he just buys a gym membership. Otherwise, the whole idea falls by the wayside and I’m stuck with dumbbells and weight bars that I can’t get rid of taking up space!”
“You raise a valid point,” I hold my index finger up at her as she scooches onto one of the barstools at the counter. I can totally imagine my dad transforming the garage and then giving up on the idea down the road, and then he and my mom would have to deal with all the crap left over. “It might be a little early for the nursery thing, but I’ll talk to dad about the gym membership. I’m sure I can convince him.”
“Thank you,” my mom mouths the words as she reaches across the island to squeeze my arm affectionately.
Three
12 Weeks
Jack
Mayzie’s nausea got worse before it got better. She spent most of that night curled around the toilet with a blanket and a pillow. I hate seeing her feel that way, and fortunately for the both of us, she’d given up on hiding from me and trying to spare me from what she calls,the horror. I spent that awful night spooned behind her, rubbing her back and fetching her saltines and ginger ale.
Since then, we’ve gotten ahold of some Sea Bands which have just about cut the nausea in half. She still gets sick but it’s not nearly as brutal, and while I wish it would go away altogether, I’ll take it for now. As bad as I feel for my baby, Mayzie being Mayzie is more worried about yours truly.
I haven’t been feeling so hot myself with an on-and-off queasy stomach for the last week and a half, and last night I had a raging case of some kind of heartburn or indigestion when I had no reason to. Mayzie was feeling it too, but she could explain hers away with the fact that she’s been putting hot sauce on everything she eats… when she feels up to eating anyway. I’ve also been tired off my ass, despite being home and recovered from the tour for over two weeks.
As stubborn as I am, I go in for a doctor’s appointment to make Mayzie happy and put her mind at ease – under the condition that she stays home and rests, especially since I made an early-ass appointment to avoid snooping photographers. Fortunately, I still see the same doc as I did before Turn it Up gained fame, and I know to him, it’s going to be just another day at the office.
After Dr. Eaton walks in and greets me and the usual small talk is out of the way, he surveys my symptoms.
“Jack, your vitals are perfect, and your lungs sound good,” he reports cordially, as he slings his stethoscope back behind his neck. “The upset stomach when there’s no change in your diet is odd, but what’s concerning is the untraceable heartburn. Your life has kicked into high gear the last few years which can be stressful…”
“Well, yeah, but I don’t feel stressed. It’s all going great and I’m happy…” I trail off and wave a hand towards him, hoping he’ll fill in the blank for me here.
“Sometimes your body knows you’re stressed before you do,” he says, offering a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t suspect anything life threatening, but I do want to do a blood workup and a stress test, just to rule out anything to do with your heart.”
My heart?
“That way we can be proactive, and it’s the perfect time with you not touring at the moment.”
“Whoa, what are you saying?” I ask with my hands up in the slow down gesture. “Are you saying there could be something wrong with my heart?” My voice is rising slightly at the end of the sentence.
“Calm down, Jack.” He quirks one side of his mouth up in a half smile, trying to get me to chill. “You’re thirty-three and in great shape. I have every reason to believe you’re healthy, but even I get surprised sometimes in my line of work. This is strictly to rule it out so we can say we did. I’m confident that these tests are going to prove me right. Now, let’s see, are you free the rest of the morning for bloodwork?”
I blow out a breath and give him a nervous nod.
“Good,” he makes a note in his computer chart. “And I can schedule your stress test for as soon as tomorrow morning.”
I nod again as he gives me a grandfatherly clap on the back and takes his leave from the room.