Page 74 of Hey Girl
Rebecca is my new hero, not only for taming the cracked out leprechaun that is Chris Richards, but also because she beat her social anxiety enough to do a reality show. She still stammers if she’s stressed out, and still finds going on tour with him hardbecause she’s overwhelmed by large crowds. But when she’s talking to a producer and a couple of film crew members, even when they’re holding a camera, she seems to have found her new comfort zone.
Chris, on the other hand…
Sure, he’s unfazed by the cameras. And says whatever shit occurs to him in the moment, unfiltered. But, while he may have fooled the world that he’s a happy-go-lucky crazy sack of hyperpants that goes with the flow, I know his wife going into labour will take him down a peg or two. Or twenty. And I can’t wait to be proven right.
Bear Moon Richards - yes, they named their baby after bare naked ass - was born a month ago, but this is where we, the audience, watch him make his entrance into the world. Not literally. No ring side seats, if you know what I mean. But Chris coping with Rebecca crowning is going to begold.
“So, given that Bear is the son of Drop Dead Fred on speed and Miss Mostly-Has-Her-Shit-Together, how many times do you reckon they’re gonna get called to the headteacher’s office?” Sadie smirks, taking a sip of my beer.
“Principal’s office,” I correct her.
“Not if I have my way. I’m working on Rebecca, trying to convince her to move to the UK.”
I massage my temples, grinning sarcastically. “Nice job, Pumpkin. Chris Richards as a neighbor?”
“Never said they’d live next door, butthead.” She pulls my beer out of reach, and I roll my eyes fondly. She’s always doing that. “Anyway, shut up, it’s on.”
She presses play, and the scene opens with Rebecca sitting on a couch, rubbing both hands down her enormous belly and breathing slowly, looking as serene as a morning meadow. I smile wistfully to myself as I remember Sadie in the same shoes.
“So, is today the big day, do you think?” The female producer’s voice can be heard off camera, and Rebecca nods with a remarkably calm smile.Go girl.
“Yes, I think so. I started having contractions this morning around - ”
She’s cut off by her blur of a husband running past her in the background, shirtless like he’s Iggy Pop, holding a baby seat over his shoulder. “The car is running and I’ve got the car seat!” He bellows this in less than a second, and I’m already laughing.
Rebecca closes her eyes and lets out a long breath that, I suspect, has nothing to do with labour pains. “As I was saying, the contractions started around four this morning, and - ”
Chris interrupts her again. “Shit, I forgot the diaper bag!” Chris flails his arms, and Sadie snorts with mirth next to me. “Breathe, Mouse, breathe!”
“Aren’t you glad I wasn’t like that when Rhi was born?” I ask Sadie smugly.
“Buddy, you weren’t far off,” she replies blithely.
I shrug. That’s fair, I had my moments.
“Chris, I’m barely even in labor!” Rebecca calls after him. “We have hours yet.”
Papa-to-be returns with a way overstuffed diaper bag slung over one shoulder and a giant birthing ball tucked under his other arm. “No way, baby. If this kid’s anything like me, he’s gonna come barreling out fast and furious like Vin Diesel when we least expect it. Like, one moment my mother was all, la la la, and the next minute she was forcing my head out and - ”
“Please be kidding,” Rebecca says weakly.
“Ugh,” Sadie mutters, “way to keep her calm, idiot.”
“Amateur,” I add.
Rebecca takes another steadying breath on screen. “Chris, I’m telling you, I’m hours away. Just…just go and have some of your mom’s tea, and calm down.”
“Can’t!” Chris takes off again, and there are some odd squeaking noises bleating out with every charging step he takes off camera.
Rebecca’s face is a picture of annoyance. “Chris Richards, did you buy those,” there’s a bleeping noise as our girl swears, “dog toys for the baby after Itoldyou not to?!”
There’s a long pause.
“...No…” comes the faint, sheepish response.
“Seems you two have switched places today,” the producer chuckles, and Rebecca responds with a tired grin.
“He’s just panicking,” she defends her loving and well-meaning doofus of a husband. “The baby won’t even know about toys when he first gets here. And I’ll give the squeakers to Jack and Mayzie’s dogs.”