16. Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Elsie
May 5 — 18 Weeks 1 Day, Artichoke
M arshall arrived home on the night of the 28th. Having him there was a weight off my shoulders.
I hadn’t fully realized what a stressor it was to have him away, but having him back eased a tension in my shoulders that had been accumulating for the past 28 days.
It wasn’t my intention to take his first day home as a full day off and spend it rolling around in bed with him, but that’s what ended up happening. Then, while during the day I’ve been desperately trying to get ahead on work, in the evenings, it’s been just us and a multitude of orgasms. I’m pretty sure he’s fucked me on every surface in my apartment. Yet, it still doesn’t feel like enough sometimes.
I crave the man constantly.
We arrived at The Playground on Saturday to find the entire place brimming with science fiction lovers celebrating May the Fourth with full costumes and regalia. Several of the resort’s patrons invited us to join in on their festivities, but we quickly absconded to our room.
Unfortunately, the realization of my impending meet and greet with Marshall’s family today has my nerves in knots, and not even a good dicking down this morning was able to solve the anxiousness that’s taken residence in my stomach.
I shouldn’t be nervous. They’re just people, after all, not monsters. But something has my stomach churning in a way I haven’t experienced since my first trimester.
The drive from The Playground to Marshall’s family home only takes us an hour, but it’s an hour of me twisted up in nerves.
The problem isn’t Marshall or his family… it’s me . I’m the problem.
Cinco de Mayo is a big deal in his family, so it only made sense that we join for the celebration, especially since his abuelos flew in for the weekend as well. The idea of meeting his entire extended family in one go isn’t helping my nerves, though.
“?Hijo mío!” My son! A warm voice cries as Marshall helps lift me down out of his massive truck. “?él está aquí! Finalmente.” He’s here! Finally.
“Hola mamá.” Hi mom. Marshall says with a smile as he turns to embrace the woman charging toward him. “Mamá. This is Elsie.”
He turns to me with his mom wrapped under his arm as though to hold her back and keep her from jumping me .
“Preciosa ni?a. Ella es bonita. Ella me dará unos nietos bonitos.” Precious girl. She’s pretty. She’ll give me pretty grandbabies. The woman rambles off.
“Ella habla espa?ol, mamá.” She speaks Spanish, Mom. Marshall chuckles, and the woman’s eyes widen before her expression goes bland.
“I’d say it in English, too, mija.” Darling . The woman says with a smile. “You’re gorgeous.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Law. It’s really nice to meet you.” I smile, holding out my hand in greeting.
“Oh! No need for handshakes here, mija. Hugs are for family.” She says, shaking off Marshall’s hold and coming over to embrace me tightly. “And you can call me Mamá if you like.”
Warmth spreads through my chest at the casual acceptance of me into her family unit, an acceptance I wasn’t anticipating considering my relationship with her son.
“Inside! Inside! I have food in the works, and I don’t want your younger cousins to get their grubby hands into my pork filling. It will be all gone before I even get a chance to fill the tamales.” She rushes out, ushering us into the house.
The inside of the ranch-style home is gorgeously decorated in bright colors and art. Every piece that hangs on the walls or lives on a shelf has an air of sentimentality, which has always been severely lacking in my own home.
“You have a beautiful house,” I say as Marshall’s mother ushers me through the house and into the kitchen.
“Thank you!” She says cheerfully with a small smile and a shrug. “It’s home.”
The kitchen she leads me into smells incredible of spices and sauces that make my mouth water. Every surface is covered in pots and pans filled with dishes and ingredients that smell like heaven and I groan at the smell.
“A woman with a stomach. I love her.” Mamá smiles. “Now, Marshall. Go say hi to your sisters and cousins. Elsie can stay in here with me and say hello when people come in for snacks. Now shoo!”
Marshall gives me a nervous glance before bending down to give his mom, who’s only a few inches taller than me, a kiss on the cheek and retreating from the kitchen.
“Now. I have you for about an hour until you’re going to want to lay down, aren’t you?” She asks, making my eyebrows rise. “How far along are you?”
“How’d you?” I start before she laughs cheerfully.
“You’re already cupping your belly, mija.” She gives me a wink. “A good sign of a protective mother-to-be.”
“I didn’t realize,” I say softly. “I thought I was hiding it better.”
“Why?” She asks, her expression one of shock. “Babies are a beautiful thing. Nothing to hide at all, mija.”
“We just haven’t told a lot of people. Not much reason to. It’s a little weird to have people guess.” I shrug.
“Well, you’re going to have a lot of excited guesses today.” She says with a smile. “Now. Let’s get you an apron, and you can tell me about yourself while we wait for people to stop in.”
Marshall’s mom is a comforting presence. I spend the next hour telling her my story as various family members come in and out of the kitchen to say hello and grab food and drinks. The whole time, there’s laughter and joy in the air, which I’ve never experienced before at a family gathering.
My family events were always businesslike, formal lunches or dinners. They were gatherings for the purpose of checking off a box on a list of requirements rather than an opportunity to spend time with people you love.
Love .
That’s the feeling that’s been floating in the air since I arrived. Every fiber in my being takes in the feeling of comfort and safety that this home and these people provide.
Marshall pops in to check on us several times throughout the hour, but between being plied with delicious traditional snacks and the childhood stories of him I’m getting out of his mom, I couldn’t be more content.
“Marshall has been asking for recipes.” His mother says at one point. “Is he cooking for you?”
I nod.
“Good boy.” She smiles. “I always told him that when it was time to introduce someone to the family, first, they needed to be introduced to our food.”
We’ve been working on filling the corn husks lined with masa with the pork filling to make tamales, and the rhythmic work allows us to fall into a comfortable silence before she speaks again.
“Food is the language of families. It’s how traditions are passed down and how legacies are built.” She says finally. “That’s how I met Marshall’s papa. I was here for school, cooking in our dorms much like this, and this tall white boy wandered into the communal kitchen looking for whatever was making the hall smell so good.”
“You won him over with his stomach?” I chuckle.
“Maybe. I like to think that community is built around the kitchen table. Cooking gave Paul and I a way to talk, a common language.” She looks up at me with stars in her eyes. “He proposed to me by making every dish I ever taught him, you know. ”
“He did?” I smile, thinking of how precious that moment must have been. “That’s so sweet.”
“I would have said yes either way, but the fact that he took the time to show me he saw me as I am? It meant the world.” She says with a fond smile.
“Is he here today?” I ask. “I haven’t met him yet.”
Her expression grows dark and haunted. “Paul died when Marshall was eight.” She says somberly.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” I say regretfully.
“That man was Marshall’s whole world,” Mamá says with a small smile. “He’s the baby of the six children and the only boy. I think it affected him the most out of all of them.”
We work in silence for a while before she speaks again.
“I think this is what I was hoping for with Marshall. I never knew who he would end up with. But I always told him that they were all welcome at our table no matter who he brought home.”
“You know about Marshall being pansexual?” I ask, a little surprised.
“Of course.” She chuckles. “Marshall is always interested in people, not their labels. But I’m glad it’s you. I’m glad you’re the one he’s brought home.”
“Am I the first?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“And the last.” She says with a finality that sends goosebumps down my skin. “You’re good together. I can tell.”
“Thank you,” I say, wiping my masa covered hands on my apron. “I’m glad he has such a supportive family.”
“You, mija.” She interrupts. “You have us too now.”
Tears well in my eyes at the proclamation, damn pregnancy hormones .
“Oh, mija. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Mamá says, rushing over to me and taking me by the hands. “I just want you to know you’re always welcome here.”
I chuckle with water in my eyes. “Sorry. Just my hormones acting up.”
“I think it’s time for you to rest. I’ll take you to Marshall’s room and tell him where you are.” She says all business as she cleans herself up.
As we pass through the hallways of the home, the family stops us at every turn to say hello or wish Marshall and me well, and the overwhelming feeling of acceptance is almost too much to handle without tears.
By the time we reach the side of the H-shaped house with the bedrooms, I’m exhausted physically and emotionally.
“Here you go,” Mamá says, opening the door to one of the bedrooms at the front of the house. “I’ll send Marshall to check on you in a few minutes. Just make yourself comfortable. Extra blankets are in the closet.”
She closes the door behind her when she leaves, and I take a good look around the room.
Marshall’s childhood bedroom is a shrine to his accomplishments. Every wall is covered with trophies and ribbons for various sports and academic achievements. What I wasn’t expecting was all the art on the walls, among posters of sports icons and favorite bands.
A knock on the door draws me out of my observations.
“Hey.” Marshall’s head pokes in the doorway. “Can I come in?”
“Yeah, of course.” I chuckle. “It’s your room.”
“Sure. But you deserve privacy if you need it.” He shrugs as he closes the door behind him. “I know my family can be a lot. ”
“They’re wonderful.” He gives me a skeptical look. “Really. I like them, especially your mom.”
“Mamá is the best.” He says with a genuine smile. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen her.”
“We can come visit more if you’d like.” My hands go to cup my stomach where our child grows. “Maybe she can come stay with us when the baby comes.”
“Really?” He says, his eyebrows high on his face. “You’d want that?”
“Sure.” I shrug. “It would be nice to have... people.”
He’s before me in two strides and wrapping me in his arms.
“Thank you, Elsie.” He whispers into my hair. “Thank you.”
“Of course, Marshall.”
We stand there together like that for a while, rocking back and forth in the silence of his room while muffled noise from the festivities outside filters through the walls.
“I should probably get back. Mamá said you need to rest, though,” he says, stepping back from me but not letting go.
I nod, but a tug in my chest tells me I shouldn’t let him go.
When his hands leave my body, the impulse becomes too much to ignore. “Stay.”
Marshall glances back at me over his shoulder with a quizzical look.
“I want you to stay,” I say softly. “Just for a little while.”
“Okay. I’ll stay.” He says simply. “Anything you want, princess.”