Two Kids, No Consequences

I just got back from my five month checkup, and everything is looking fine. Dr. Matthews said that the baby is growing just as it should be at this point. There was something that concerned Dr. Matthews, but she said that it was nothing and that it would go away. I hope she’s right because I don’t need anything else to worry about right now.

Zack is stressing enough for the both of us because he’s trying to write a song and none of his ideas are working. Even though we haven’t been living together for long, I know how frustrated he gets when he’s trying to write and to just leave him alone. Whenever he comes into whatever room I’m in, I usually get up, give him a kiss, tell him that I love him and to not break his guitar.

I want to tell him that everything went fine, but he’s locked himself in our room and won’t come out until he gets the first verse done. He has the chorus already, and that’s the hardest part for him. The words come easily, but the chords and notes are a bit more of a challenge. Usually Alex wants a certain sound and Zack’s really good at making things fit with the concept of the album, if there is one, but sometimes he just gets stuck.

A few minutes after I sit down on the couch and turn on the TV, Zack starts yelling. He sounds happy, but I’m not sure. “Zack, baby? Are you okay?” I call towards the bedroom.

“Yeah, I’m great! Come here!” Great, right when I got comfortable. It’s hard to sit comfortably for me with this belly. “Wait, I bet you’re comfy. I’ll come to you!” And with that, Zack comes running down the stairs, guitar in one hand, papers in the other, and a pencil in his mouth.

“What is the cause for this occasion?” I ask, because he looks a little crazy right now.

“I figured out the first verse. And the second verse. I just need the bridge and I’ll be done with the song!”

“Could you play it for me? I’d love to hear it. And I can help you with the bridge, and then you’ll be done!”

“Okay,” he says, and situates himself. He puts the papers with the words and notes on them in front of him on the floor, and then sits down with his guitar in his lap. “It’s still kind of rusty, so bear with me.”

He starts to play a beautiful melody, and I can tell that this is going to be a slow song. Then he starts to sing. I love it when he sings.

“I wish you could see your face right now, ‘cause you’re grinning like a fool. And we’re sitting on your kitchen floor on a Tuesday afternoon. It doesn’t matter when we get back to doing what we do, ‘cause right now could last forever, as long as I’m with you.”

It’s great so far.

“You’re just a daydream away, I wouldn’t know what to say if I had you. And I’ll keep you a daydream away, just watch from a safe place so I’d never have to lose.”

I have a feeling he wrote this about someone in particular.

“We would go out on the weekend to escape our busy lives. We’d laugh at all the douchebag guys chasing down their desperate wives. I’d drink a little too much, you’d offer me a ride, I’d offer you a t-shirt, and you would stay another night. But you’re just a daydream away, I wouldn’t know what to say if I had you. And I’ll keep you a daydream away, just watch from a safe place, so I’d never have to lose.”

He stops singing and looks up at me. “That’s all I have so far. I was thinking that I would put the bridge here and do one more chorus and fade it out or something. What do you think I should do for the bridge?”

“Could you play the last little bit of the chorus for me?” He does and words instantly come to my head. I don’t know why I didn’t go into music sooner. I’m great at coming up with words once I have a melody. The chorus music ends and I instantly come up with something:

“We never stood a chance out there, shooting love in real time. So we’ll take it over ice tonight with a little salt and a little lime.” He smiles and writes that down, then sings it to himself as he figures out the chords. He plays it all together, letting it build toward the end of the bridge, and smiles again, standing up to hug me.

“We just finished a song,” he says. “I’m sure Alex and everyone else is going to love it.”

“They better love it. You spent a lot of time and patience on that song. If they don’t like it, I’ll go down to the studio and beat them up!” I say, making a face that is supposed to be intimidating, but only makes Zack laugh. I love it when he finishes songs and they turn out right, because he’s in such a funk when his ideas don’t work. Once everything falls into place, though, he’s back to being my Zack again.

“In your current state, I don’t think that would be a good idea,” he says, moving on to his knees and putting his hands on my belly, rubbing it sweetly. “We wouldn’t want to hurt my kid, now would we?”

I smile down at him, loving how he doesn’t give me any credit at all for this child. “Zack, you know I am putting more effort into this pregnancy than you did. I am actually carrying the child, so it is our baby, not just yours.” I sound serious when I say it, but he knows that I’m just joking around with him.

“Okay, it’s our baby. Hey, let’s go out to celebrate finally finishing this song!” Zack suggests. “What have you been craving recently?”

I know my answer before he even asks the question. “Burger King. Definitely.” And with that, Zack gets our shoes and his keys, puts my shoes on for me because, again, my belly gets in the way, and we leave for a night out.