PRESENT TENSE
Chapter Sixty-Two

December 31, 2003

On New Year’s Eve, all four members of the household, plus Sophie, met together at the house. Much to the surprise of the others, Tommy and Sophie had decided to go out together for New Year’s Eve. They were going to San Diego for the evening, while the other three members of the group would remain at home.

Rose couldn’t resist teasing Sophie, who had been giving Tommy a merry chase. He had been trying to get a date with her for months, since October, and she had been avoiding the issue the whole time. For New Year’s Eve, she had finally decided to give him a chance.

"I knew he’d win you over eventually," Rose teased Sophie as they sat in the kitchen waiting for Tommy. Neither Rose, Helga, nor Sophie could get over the fact that it was Sophie who had to wait for her date this time. She was notorious for being half an hour late for any date she went on, but tonight she was the one on time.

Sophie shrugged. "It’s only New Year’s Eve."

"Only New Year’s Eve! This is one of the most important date nights of the year. You know what they say—if you end up alone on New Year’s Eve, you’ll have bad luck dating for the next year."

"Well, I’m not alone, now am I? I don’t see you going out."

"I don’t need a date. I’m married. We’ll keep Helga company, and then have our own celebration."

"I really wanted to hear that," Helga told her, grimacing.

"Well, you’re not going out."

"I don’t think my little boy needs to have me go out and party all night." Helga rested her hands on her distended middle. At eight and a half months pregnant, she looked ready to burst. "Besides, I’m exempt. I’m a recent widow."

"Oh, this is all silly!" Sophie exclaimed, glaring at her two friends. "Tommy and I are just friends. We’re just going to go down to San Diego and have fun."

"Whatever you say," Helga told her. "Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do."

Sophie looked at Helga’s swollen stomach. "Whatever you say." She smirked.

Jack came in the front door, carrying the pizza he’d picked up for the three of them staying at home, just as Tommy came from his room. Rose hurried to take the pizza, while Sophie jumped up and hurried over to Tommy, tugging on his arm and urging him to leave before the others could make fun of them anymore.

Helga couldn’t resist one last parting shot. "Tommy—is that aftershave I smell? You never use aftershave."

"Shut up, Helga. I don’t see how you can smell anything over the scent of that pizza."

"Don’t you know? Pregnant women have an extraordinarily good sense of smell."

"Let’s get out of here," Tommy told Sophie, ignoring his grinning cousin.

"Adios," Jack told them. "Stay out of trouble."

"You stay out of trouble," Tommy retorted, holding the door for Sophie.

"I don’t have to stay out of trouble," Jack called after them. "I’m married."

"Oh, yes you do, buster," Rose told him, coming up behind him. She wrapped her arms around him. "The types of trouble you’re allowed to get into are severely limited."

"Ahem," Helga called from the table. "Why don’t we have some dinner before you two forget? I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry."

"Yeah, we’re coming," Jack grumbled, giving Helga a look of mock annoyance. "Come on, Mrs. Dawson. Have a seat. I left off the jalapenos and anchovies just for you."

"You’re sweet." Rose stopped at the CD player on the counter, putting in one of her folk music CDs.

"Do we have to listen to that?" Helga asked her.

"You know you like folk music," Rose told her, hitting the play button. "Besides, wouldn’t you rather have your baby listen to this instead of some of that pop music you like?"

"Not really. There’s nothing wrong with pop music. It won’t give him any bad ideas."

"Have you decided on a name for him yet?" Jack asked, opening the pizza box.

"Yes."

"What is it?" Rose wanted to know.

"I’ll let you know after he’s born. For now, he’s just the baby."

"When is he due?"

"January nineteenth."

"Less than a month to go, then."

"If he’s on time. I’ve seen babies be as much as a month late."

"A month? That must be hard on the mother."

"It is. Usually, if a baby is very late, the obstetrician will induce labor, but some women who haven’t had any medical care come into the emergency room, wondering what could be wrong, that the baby is so late."

"Well, I think you’ll be fine. You’ve worked in the maternity ward, haven’t you?"

"Yes, and everything is progressing normally. I know what to expect, though sometimes unexpected things do happen."

As Helga launched into a description of some of the unusual things she had seen at births, Jack was trying to cover his ears and eat at the same time. Finally, Rose noticed.

"I think we’re embarrassing him," Rose told Helga, glancing at Jack.

"I really wanted to hear about childbirth at dinner," Jack commented, hoping the conversation was over.

"I was right," Rose told Helga.

"Rose!" Jack looked at her in annoyance.

"We’ll shut up now," Rose assured him, patting his hand. "Besides, wasn’t this better than listening to folk music?"

"Actually, some of the folk music isn’t too bad, unlike medical horror stories." He scowled at Helga.

"You see?" Rose said. "I knew you’d like my music."

"Well...some of it’s okay," Helga grudgingly conceded, then added, "but I still prefer Britney Spears to Peter, Paul, and Mary."

"Your choice," Rose told her, reaching for another slice of pizza. "What say we go watch those DVDs we rented?"

After the kitchen was cleaned up, they gathered in the living room. Helga settled down on the couch, finding it more comfortable than the chairs, while Rose and Jack argued over which movie to watch first.

"Unbreakable!"

"Chicago!"

"We should watch the shorter one first," Jack argued.

"There’s not that much difference. Besides, if we watch the longer one first, we’ll be sure of finishing it."

"We have over four hours," Helga pointed out from the couch. "We’ll have plenty of time to watch both of them. I say we watch Unbreakable first. Rose and I have both seen Chicago."

"Besides,” Jack added, “Chicago looks like a chick flick. All that singing..."

"Trust me. You’ll like it," Rose told him, then conceded to the others. "All right. We’ll watch Unbreakable first."

"You’ll like it," Jack told her. "It’s about a guy who’s obsessed with proving superheroes are real."

"Sounds weird."

“Just give it a chance, okay?”

When the movie was over, Rose had to admit that she’d enjoyed the movie. "That guy was a real psycho," she remarked, reaching for other DVD. "Killing all those people to prove his crazy theory."

"Which turned out to not be so crazy after all," Helga added from where she was laying on the couch.

"He was still psycho, though. And I thought I knew some nasty people. I’m glad that one’s not real."

It was almost midnight when the second movie ended. Rose put the DVD back in its box, while Jack surfed through the channels, looking for a televised New Year’s Eve celebration. She sat back down beside him, then looked at Helga, who was being far more quiet than usual.

Helga was stretched across the couch, sound asleep. Her protruding belly moved up and down as she breathed, her head turned to the side and her blonde hair cascading over the side of the couch. Rose smiled, then walked quietly over to wake her, knowing that Helga would not want to miss midnight.

"Helga, wake up."

"Humph."

"It’s almost midnight."

"Leave me alone, Fabri."

Rose couldn’t help giggling. Helga awoke with a start, staring at her.

"What’s going on?"

"It’s almost midnight."

"It is?" She struggled to sit up. "Give me a hand here."

Rose helped her to her feet.

"How much time do we have?"

"About ten minutes."

"I’ll go get that sparkling cider I bought." She waddled out of the living room, closing the kitchen door behind her.

By the time she returned, it was two minutes to midnight. The three of them sat in front of the television, waiting for the countdown.

"Ten...nine...eight...seven...six...five...four...three...two...one...Happy New Year!"

Rose threw her arms around Jack and kissed him, while Helga struggled to get the bottle open. When she finally succeeded, she poured cider into three glasses and handed them around.

"This doesn’t have alcohol in it, does it?" Jack asked, looking at his glass suspiciously.

Helga gave an aggravated sigh. "No, of course not. Do you really think I’m going to give the baby alcohol?" She shook her head. "What is it with you and alcohol, anyway? You wouldn’t drink any wine at Christmas, and you don’t drink beer with Tommy anymore, either."

He shrugged. "I’ve just lost my taste for it, is all."

"Uh-huh. Well, here’s to the new year, with a farewell to the old year. Let’s hope this year is better."

"I second that." Jack raised his glass.

"Me, too," Rose added, clinking her glass against the others. Smiling, she launched into Auld Lang Syne. The others soon joined her.

Shall auld acquaintance be forgot?
And never brought to mind?
Shall auld acquaintance be forgot?
And the days of auld lang syne?

"A new year," Rose said, taking a sip from her glass, remembering all the trials of the year now past. The earthquake, Cal, Jack’s illness, the problems with her mother...it had been a hard year.

"It wasn’t all bad," Jack remarked.

Rose and Helga turned to stare at him. He’d had the worst time of any of them.

He reached for Rose’s hand. "Rose and I were married, and you and Fabrizio were married. Those were good times."

Rose smiled, nodding in agreement, remembering their wedding day. It had been one of the happiest days of her life, in spite of her nervousness. Helga smiled, too, but there was sadness in her eyes. She and Fabrizio had only been married two weeks when he was killed in the earthquake, leaving her to carry and raise their son alone. She still missed him, but she wouldn’t have traded those two weeks together for anything.

"What do you suppose Tommy and Sophie are up to?" Rose wondered, putting an arm around Jack.

"I’m sure I’m don’t want to know," Helga responded wryly.

"You are dirty-minded," Jack told her, shaking his head.

"Yeah, that I am," Helga replied, patting her swollen middle. "But I’m no worse than anyone else." She struggled to her feet. "Good night, you two. Enjoy your celebration." She smirked, making her way down the hall.

"Good night, Helga!" Rose called, waving her off before she could make another smart remark. "Isn’t it just our luck?" she asked Jack, as he turned off the television. "We have a couple of smart-mouthed roommates."

"Yeah, but it wouldn’t be the same without them." He kissed her. "Come on. Let’s go find some place private for our celebration."

*****

Jack and Rose quietly made their way down the hall to their room. Jack closed and locked the door behind them, then took Rose into his arms and kissed her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, pulling her close.

For the past couple of weeks, ever since she came down with strep throat, Rose had wanted to do nothing but sleep at the end of the day. It had been a particularly stubborn case of strep, and she had only started feeling better the past few days.

"Better. Much better. I could stay up all night," she told him. Extra antibiotics had been required to finally cure the disease, but she was recovered now.

She kissed him, then pulled away. "Let me go change into something more comfortable," she suggested, going to the dresser and removing an item of clothing. "I’ll be out in a few minutes."

Rose stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She unfolded the garment she had brought with her—a green satin and lace nightgown Jack had given her for Christmas. It was long and low-cut, with spaghetti straps and a long slit up one side so she could walk. It was accompanied by a green satin shawl that wrapped around her shoulders to preserve her modesty.

Slipping it on, she smiled, remembering the Christmas celebration. Jack had insisted that they stuff stockings for each other. Rose had objected at first, thinking they were too old, since she hadn’t had a stocking stuffed for her since she was ten years old. Jack had told her that his parents had exchanged stockings, and filled one for him, all the years he was growing up. Surprised, Rose had finally agreed to his idea, so he had bought two small Christmas stockings—one red and one green.

Rose had laughed at his childlike enthusiasm, but she had been touched at the care with which he filled her stocking, giving her a small framed drawing that he had made, an abalone shell pendant, some sample size containers of lotion, bath powder, and shampoo, a book by one of her favorite authors, and a small box of candy. She had taken equal care in selecting gifts for him—art supplies, a new watch to replace his old one that had finally worn out, aftershave, a humorous book about Prozac, and two bags of Craisins, which he liked to munch on while working on his art. In spite of her initial misgivings about such an activity, they had enjoyed exchanging stockings on Christmas morning before the others were up. Rose had felt a little childlike herself as she had dug through her Christmas stocking, eager to see what gifts Jack had given her.

There had also been a Christmas tree set up in the living room that all four of them had chipped in to buy. Jack had painted designs on several types of purchased ornaments the previous year, and there were also lights and tinsel. Rose hadn’t contributed much, so she had purchased a box of multi-colored candy canes and added them to the decor.

At mid-morning, they had sat in the living room together and exchanged gifts that they had bought for each other. Jack’s gift to Rose had been the satin nightgown. She had blushed when she unwrapped it, and had blushed even more when Tommy had whistled and made a remark about Jack "getting lucky." Jack had elbowed him hard in the stomach, and Helga had slapped him on the back of the head and reprimanded him for being rude, but Tommy had still grinned at them, even when Jack had sourly remarked that sometimes it was hard to believe that Tommy was the oldest one of them.

Rose smoothed the elegant nightgown and smiled at herself in the mirror. She still hadn’t been feeling well that night—but tonight was another matter. She felt better than she had in a couple of weeks.

Adding a touch of mascara and a bit of lipstick, she examined her reflection in the mirror, her smile fading as she recalled wearing a similar garment for Cal. That garment, left behind when she left home, had been blue, and not nearly so low-cut, but Cal had taken one look at her when he saw her wearing it and slapped her, accusing her of wearing it for other men. Rose had had no idea what he was talking about and had said as much, but he had grabbed her by the shoulders and shaken her until her teeth rattled.

Upset and furious, Rose had stalked out of his apartment and into the darkened streets of Masline, intent on walking home, but he had finally gone after her and apologized, saying that he only got so angry because he didn’t want other men looking at her. She had forgiven him, and the incident had been forgotten—until the next time it had happened.

Rose shook herself, trying to put the memory out of her mind. She doubted that Jack would react in the same way, especially since he had given her the nightgown and wanted to see her in it. But then, Jack had also never gone to the depths of suspicion that Cal had. They trusted each other implicitly, something that she and Cal had never been able to do.

Sighing, Rose began to brush out her hair, remembering another incident with Cal the previous New Year’s Eve. There had been a party at Cal’s apartment, with plenty of champagne available. Rose had known that she wasn’t supposed to be drinking, but the champagne had been good and no one had objected to what she was doing.

By midnight, she had had way too much to drink and had fallen asleep in Cal’s bed. About an hour later, he had gotten into bed with her and awakened her, refusing to leave her alone until she agreed to sex. Rose had refused at first, then had finally given in, wanting him to leave her alone. Exhausted and still intoxicated, she had fallen asleep in the middle of it. Furious, he had slapped her awake.

Rose had never quite forgiven him for that night. Resentful of the way he had treated her, she had spurned his advances over the months that followed. He hadn’t touched her again until the morning he had raped her.

Setting the brush down, Rose pushed the memory to the back of her mind. There was no use dwelling on it. It was over and best forgotten. Jack wasn’t going to hit her or force her against her will, and she wasn’t drunk or sleepy tonight. The hangover she had gotten from the champagne had been enough to warn her off of alcohol, so she hadn’t drunk any alcoholic beverages since.

Wrapping the shawl around her shoulders, Rose gave herself one last glance in the mirror and sauntered out of the bathroom. Jack was stretched out on the bed, waiting for her. He looked at her in appreciation.

"You look good," he told her, sitting up and pulling back the covers. Slipping beneath them, he held them open for her.

Rose smiled and tossed the shawl onto her bookcase, climbing into bed beside him. "Do I?" she asked, the low-cut top of the nightgown slipping down farther as she settled down beside him.

"Yeah. You look wonderful." He pulled the covers up over them against the chill night air.

Rose reached over and turned her lamp out, snuggling against him under the covers. They embraced, kissing, forgetting about the past as they moved to celebrate the new year.

Chapter Sixty-Three
Stories