Page 32 of Bringing Home the Bacon
I scan the table. Our usual morning fare of buttered toast, fried eggs, and glasses of orange juice are at the ready. But something is off.
“Is there a reason no one is drinking coffee? What’s with all the herbal tea?”
Gran raises and lowers the tea bag in her cup. “The Bedd boys all love herbal tea, don’t they?” she says, using a teaching voice that I know all too well.
Ethan, Alex, and Samuel respond by raising and lowering their own tea bags and saying, “Mmm, yes. Teeeeeeea.”
Gran continues. “Pregnant women shouldn’t consume caffeine, so as our first show of support, we decided to join you in drinking red raspberry leaf tea. It strengthens the uterine muscles and softens the cervix.”
Ethan winces as he takes a sip. “Like we said, mmmmm.”
“Actually, guys?” Sam holds up his phone, showing an article about herbal teas. “We don’t want to start softening the cervix until thirty-seven weeks.”
“Alright, Colleen,” Gran says. “You stick to the orange juice for now, then. We’ll find you a cervix-friendly tea bag soon.”
I slide into my chair, take a big gulp of orange juice, and set the cup down a bit too roughly. “So did you guys rehearse this intervention, or what?”
“Just the ‘Sit. Eat.’ part,” Sam says. “And the ‘mmm, yes, teeeeea’ part. But from here on, the discussion will be entirely improvisational.”
I give Sam a nod and a tight smile. No matter how bad things get, at least I can always count on my twin to tell me the truth. He’s as straightforward as he is sincere.
“Where are your soon-to-be wives?” I ask. “They didn’t want to enjoy the show?”
“We thought it would be best if it were the original Bedd family members for this initial meeting,” Ethan says, his ice-blue eyes looking even more serious than usual.
“Well, then we ought to call Jackson up while we’re at it,” I joke.
“We did, actually,” Alex says, pointing at the phone propped against the salt and pepper shakers. “He’s on video.”
Sure enough, my younger brother’s handsome face smiles back at me in real time. “Hey, Sis. Congratulations! Or actually—are we saying congratulations? Is ‘I heard the news’ better at this point?”
I ignore his question and ask one of my own. “Dude, why did you agree to this? Isn’t it the crack of dawn in LA?”
“It is, but don’t worry. Rock stars are known for staying up late.”
Alex rolls his eyes at that. Gran catches him and scolds him with her stare. “Thanks for being here, Jackson,” he amends and smooths his dark beard. “We appreciate it.”
Another moment of silence descends.
“Well, let’s get this over with,” I say. “And Ethan, don’t think I didn’t catch it when you said this is our initial meeting on this subject. It is not our initial meeting. It is our only meeting. I appreciate your concern, but I think you all forget I am a twenty-nine-year-old woman. I’m not the same little ten-year-old girl who cried at night unless she was snuggled up in her twin brother’s bed?—”
“Yeah, now she snuggles up in reality TV stars’ beds,” Alex says under his breath, staring at a square on his signature flannel shirt.
“Alex…” Gran warns at the same time I say, “One reality star! One time! And I’m a grown-ass woman! If I want to sleep with every reality star on planet Earth, it’s my prerogative to do so!”
Sam gives me a look. “Wow, pregnancy has really changed you.”
He and I instantly devolve into a fit of giggles.
“Anyone know what they’re laughing about?” Jackson asks from the video call.
“Never did, never will,” Ethan says.
It’s one of many private jokes Sam and I have. I don’t even know how or why it started, but whenever one of us tries something new or accomplishes something cool, we joke about that person suddenly being “too good” for everyone around them. Like when he learned to ride a two-wheeler before I did, I hit him with a “Wow, bike riding has really changed you.” When I was salutatorian at our high school graduation, he made sure to say, “Wow, that smart people award has really changed you.”
It's a dumb joke when you try to explain it to other people, but it’s our joke, and I love it. The fact that he’s busting it out now feels like his way of suggesting that maybe this pregnancy could be a good thing. Perhaps it could change me in a good way.
When I recover from our twin laughing fit, I clear my throat and continue. “As I was saying, this is the only time I am participating in this Bedd family town hall you’ve orchestrated. I’m sure you have questions. Go ahead. Get them all out of your system.”
