The thought sometimes weighs heavy on my shoulders. But with Lix and Stan by my side, it becomes less haunting in my mind and less daunting as a duty. It’s returning as one of my dreams again, to want a cleaner compound of Kys that will bring the best out of its users. Not the worst, and certainly, not in a manner that risks their welfare.
But such ambition can wait for a while. We have a bigger priority presently.
At this very moment, I’m on my way to see my gynecologist.
I sigh, my breathing a bit labored, though I don’t want to worry Lix and Stan, who are in the car with me.
This should be a day of excitement, not trepidation, since today’s the day we learn the biological sex of our baby.
Stan’s red sports car shines under the spring sun. Its hood catches bright slices of sky through the trees, and I can see my own reflection in the windshield’s glass—hair freshly cut by Elle, my glasses on, and my expression composed in a manner I’ve learned to present as default.
I’m reclined in the passenger seat farther than is necessary, only because the boys insisted I do this since my lower back has been in mild pain lately.
My hand rests over my abdomen, rubbing slow circles over the slight protrusion that still feels rather surreal when I look down at it.
Four months. A number that should be ordinary. Instead, it holds so much significance. Time truly has flown past us, almost as fast as Stan drives.
To my left, Stan has one hand on the steering wheel and the other tapping along to the music, sunglasses on and mouth smiling. He glances at me more often than a person should while operating a vehicle, but each time he does, I give him a quiet warning glare to focus on the road.
In the back seat, Lix leans forward toward me, and I feel his touch on my shoulders. His hands move carefully, massaging the back of my neck with silent attention. It should be relaxing. Itisrelaxing. But that doesn’t mean I get to ignore the detail that catches my peripheral vision.
His seatbelt isn’t positioned correctly if he’s able to reach me this well.
I turn my head and see that his seatbelt’s strap is utterly slack, not secured.
“Lix,” I say.
His hands stop their soothing motions. His eyes meet mine, brows lifting, as though he’s prepared to comply but wants to know exactly what he did wrong.
“You’re not wearing your seatbelt properly,” I state.
He blinks, then glances down at it. “But I’m wearing it.”
“It’s not secured,” I reply. “The strap is loose. If we stop suddenly, it won’t protect you.”
He exhales through his nose. “I just wanted to reach you, Em.”
“It’s appreciated, but I’d rather you secure yourself correctly.”
Lix’s mouth twitches as if he’s fighting a smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
Stan’s chuckle breaks through the front seat. “Ooh, I love this,” he says. “Love it when you’re the one getting scolded for once, Ocean Eyes.”
Lix tries to adjust the belt. He glances at me again like he’s hoping I’ll accept the attempt.
I don’t. Raising my brow at him, I frown disapprovingly.
He sighs and does it properly this time, pulling it snug, and clicking it into place.
When he leans forward again, his fingers return to my shoulders, lighter now, given the distance.
Stan’s smile stretches. “Good teamwork, babe,” he says. “We can’t stress Em out today, or Idris’ hard work is gonna be for nothin’.”
Lix huffs, and I frown deeper at how he phrased that.
Stan continues. “God knows this is the only chance he’ll get ‘cause every baby outta Em after this one is gonna be ours, Ocean Eyes.”
Lix’s hands still on my shoulders. I groan, slumping into the seat some more.
