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Title: Super Sunday Summary: The gang has a Super Bowl party and one couple gets more than they bargained for. Told in first person, Frohike's POV. Langly and I are heading over to a Super Bowl party at Jimmy and Yves' house with the rest of the gang. Although Jimmy is, technically speaking, our employee, he has more money than we'll probably ever have in our lives. Dumb though he seems in many ways, he was smart enough to save, not squander, the money he made during his brief career as a professional athlete So they live in a fabulous house that Yves is constantly redecorating. Langly prevails on me to stop and pick up a couple of pizzas on our way over, on the unassailable grounds that Yves is British and thus can't be counted on to provide decent food. We briefly contemplate the horrific possibility of warm beer, but agree that Jimmy is too much of a red-blooded American to allow *that* travesty in his own home. When we get there, it's like entering a Toys R Us commercial combined with hormones run amok. Everybody's brought their kids and half the wives are pregnant. Yves doesn't really look pregnant yet, but Jimmy has assured us that she is. In case we doubted his word, she takes one look at the pizza supreme with extra anchovies, clamps her hand to her mouth and sprints into the nearest of their many bathrooms. "Is she okay?" I ask. "I'll go check on her," Suzanne Byers says. Suzanne is the wife of our fourth co-worker, John. "Keep on eye on the girls, hon," she adds to her husband. "You all right, sweetie?" she asks Yves though the door. "Fine," Yves replies, coming out and looking sheepish. "Want me to get you anything?" Suzanne inquires. "I'm the hostess. I'm supposed to be asking you that question," Yves replies. "And I'm your best friend," Suzanne answers. "The closest thing you have on this side of the Atlantic to a mother or big sister. If you need me to take care of you, I will." "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of her myself," Jimmy points out. "Thanks, but I think I'm okay now." "You'll feel better soon," Monica Doggett says wandering into the kitchen. She's pregnant, too, but she's at the point where it's somewhat noticeable. To me it seems odd that she and John have chosen to space their children so far apart - Luke's almost nine and I'd assumed that either they didn't want or couldn't have any more - but it's certainly not any of my business. "The second trimester of pregnancy is what doctors refer to as the 'honeymoon phase'; you're over all the nausea and not to the point where you get tired just from walking down an aisle at the grocery store." "Monica, I don't think that's why it's called the honeymoon phase," Doggett says, coming up behind her. Monica turns slightly red and sticks her tongue out at her husband, who just chuckles and goes to the refrigerator for a beer. Obviously I'm missing something here, but I often feel that way around the married couples who comprise all of my friends other than Langly. The Doggetts and the Byers leave the kitchen and wander into the huge living room with the big screen TV. Which is a good thing, because the next person to come into the kitchen is Melissa Pendrell and she takes up half of it all by herself. Unlike the other two expectant mothers, Missy is *VERY* obviously pregnant. "Tell me again when you're due?" Yves asks. "Friday," Missy replies, heading toward the buffet table. "This coming Friday?" Langly asks. "No, day-before-yesterday Friday," Missy answers. Langly turns pale at that and says, "Um, shouldn't you be at home resting or something?" Missy laughs. "First of all, unless Sean's there to watch Kathleen, I don't get to 'rest' much when I'm at home. Mostly I'm chasing a toddler around the house all day. Secondly, no, why should I miss a gathering with my family and friends to sit home alone? Third of all, Langly, I can tell by the look on your face that you've obviously watched one too many of those TV shows where a woman says 'I think I'm in labor' and proceeds to *immediately* give birth right where she is, be it a taxicab, a wedding reception, a courtroom or whatever. I was in labor 18 hours with Kathleen. Mom and Dana assure me that it will probably be a somewhat speedier process the second time around, but I'm sure I'll still have ample warning. I promise you that if I feel even the tiniest tinge of impeding labor I'll get Sean to drive me to the hospital right away; you won't get caught serving as impromptu midwife." Dana Mulder walks in and slips an arm around what *would* be her sister's waist and says, "In the highly unlikely event that you did leap directly into the final stage of labor, I think I'd be a better person to handle it than Langly would. I'm your sister, I'm a doctor and I've given birth twice myself within the past five years." "No offense, Dana, but you mostly do your doctoring on dead people; I don't think I want you ushering my baby into the world." "Hey, Dana does a good job doctoring living patients," Mulder says, squeezing in behind his wife and dropping a light kiss on her ear. "She's patched me up a time or two." "Mommy, Jill and Jackie brought their Powerpuff Girls video," Emily Mulder says. "Can we watch it on the big TV?" "No, not on the big TV," Mulder says firmly. "That's where the Daddies are watching the football game. But you may ask Mrs. Bond if she has another TV and VCR someplace where it would be okay to watch it." "Sure," Yves says with a smile. "We'll get it set up in our bedroom Come on, girls." Most everybody else has left the kitchen when Skinner comes in. He's got his infant daughter in one arm and is carrying a six pack of beer in the opposite hand. "I brought extra beer," he says, just in case it had escaped my keen powers of observation. "Also Michelle," I point out, just in case he'd forgotten her. "Kimberly, too," Skinner answers. "She's in the other room chatting." A few minutes before the game is to start, all the mothers and little girls have cleared out. Left in the living room are the men, eight-year-old Luke Doggett on his father's lap and one-year-old William Mulder on his father's lap. "The baby is too little to understand a football game, Mulder," Skinner says. "You have to start them early," Mulder replies unperturbed. "I plan on watching football with my baby as soon as its born," Jimmy volunteers. "I know how you and Mrs. Bond started your baby growing," Luke says proudly. "You put your penis inside her vagina." Jimmy makes a garbled choking sound and turns about six different shades of red. I think I may have to give him the Heimlich manuver. It sure won't be Langly, who's currently rolling on the floor laughing. "Luke!" Doggett yells. "What, Daddy?" "That's *not* the sort of thing we say in public! Apologize to Mr. Bond." "But Daddy, you said, when you explained it to me, that I shouldn't talk about it in front of ladies or other boys and girls! But everybody here is growed-up men, except for William and he's a baby and doesn't understand," Luke says, clearly perplexed. "Son," Doggett begins, obviously trying to explain the delicacies of this situation, but Jimmy interrupts him. "It's okay, John," he says, squatting down to Luke's eye level. The thing about Jimmy is that he really likes kids; he's put aside his own embarrassment to save the confused little boy from feeling like he's disappointed his father. "I was just surprised that you knew about that already, Luke. I was a lot older than you before I learned how babies are made. Your Daddy must think you're quite a little man." "Everybody shut up, the game's about to start," Skinner says. Langly won our coin toss as to who gets to be the drinker and who's the designated driver, so he's chugging beers frequently while I've promised to limit myself to two, both consumed before half-time, so that I'll be sober at the end of the evening. Jimmy's also drinking pretty freely - well, he lives here, it's not like he has to worry about driving home - and, surprisingly, so is Doggett. I happen to comment on it during a commercial and he grins. "One of the good things about having a pregnant wife. Monica can't drink anyway, so she's the designated driver. I gave her the keys when we walked in." "Wouldn't the same apply to you, Pendrell?" I ask. He had a single beer before the game even began, but he's limited himself to Cokes since then. Pendrell shakes his head. "Missy's to the point in her pregnancy where I figure it's better for me to remain sober at all times. I never know when she's going to need me to drive her to the hospital." As if on cue, Missy walks into the living room and says, "Sean, I'm in labor. We need to go to the hospital." "You're funny, Missy," he replies, his eyes riveted to the TV screen, where the second quarter has just begun. "No, Sean, I'm serious." Pendrell makes the same sort of garbled choking sound Jimmy made earlier in the evening when Luke was giving his graphic description of how Yves got pregnant. "Really?" "Yeah. My water just broke." "Oooh, boy!" Pendrell says, jumping up and grabbing his jacket and Missy's. "That means things are going to progress more quickly this time around then they did with Kathleen, doesn't it?" "Probably," Missy says, then she gets a strange look on her face and reaches out to grab her husband's hand. Even from across the room, I can see his fingers turning white as she squeezes them. "Definitely," she amends, letting out her breath in a loud whoosh. "Where's Kathleen?" "Here she is," Dana says, walking in with her niece. "Give Mommy and Daddy a kiss, Kathleen. They're going to the hospital to get you a baby brother or sister. You'll come home with me and Uncle Fox and Emily and William." "Wim?" Kathleen says. She clearly adores her cousin; they're only a few months apart in age. "Yes, with William," Missy assures her daughter. She and Pendrell quickly kiss their daughter and hurry out the door. "Fox, go with them!" Dana suddenly yells. "I've got Kathleen's diaper bag, but you need to get her car seat and put it in our van." Mulder nods and sprints out the door, not even bothering with a jacket. The rest of us watch the scenario they make through the window; Pendrell opening the door for Missy and Mulder hurling himself into their backseat and wrestling with Kathleen's car seat as if he's capturing a violent suspect. After the Pendrells have driven off and Mulder has come back inside, having installed a third car seat in the van he and Dana drive, everybody is silent for a moment. Finally Jimmy, who can be unusually profound at times, says, "Wow. Kind of makes watching a football game seem kind of anti-climatic, doesn't it?" "You'll get your turn to have a ringside seat at a baby's birth," Yves tells him, rubbing his neck gently. "Watch the game now." At half-time, all the wives and little girls join us to watch the show. The Byers each hold one of their daughters, Monica manages to wedge her pregnant body into the easy chair containing her husband and son and most everybody else is sitting on the floor. Emily comes up to me with a look of discontentment on her face. "Mommy is holding Kathleen and Daddy is holding William," she points out. "Can I sit by you and Mr. Langly?" "Sure, sweetheart," I reply, scooting over so she can plop in between us. "Mr. Langly?" "Yeah, Emily?" "How come you don't have a Mommy?" Langly considers this for a moment then asks, "You mean a wife? Like your Mommy is your Daddy's wife?" "Yes." "Because," Langly drawls, "while my theories are actually *less* weird than your Daddy's are, I don't have the assets he does to offset them." "Huh?" "I'm not tall, dark and handsome, I don't bring in a steady paycheck and I didn't inherit half of New England. Or, in other words, because I've never found a lady as nice and pretty as your Mommy, or your aunt or any of the other ladies here, who wanted to be my wife." "Oh," Emily digests that for a moment, then turns to me. "Mr. Frohike?" "Yes, Emily?" "Why don't you have a...wife?" She's obviously proud of herself for using the correct word this time. "Because the lady I loved very much died a long time ago. Before we could get married." Langly gives me a strange look. This isn't a story that I've shared with many people. "Oh. That's sad. Was she nice?" "Yes. She was very nice." "Was she pretty?" "Yes, very pretty." "Like my Mommy?" "Well, she was kind of little - for a grown-up lady, I mean - like your Mommy is. But she didn't have red hair. She had long, black hair. She was. . .do you know what people who live in Vietnam look like?" Emily nods. "My kindergarten teacher, Miss Li, her Mommy and Daddy came from Vietnam." "That's where she came from, too." "Oh," apparently this information satisfies Emily, because there are no more questions. Late in the fourth quarter the game - like most Super Bowls recently - is a complete blowout. All of the kids have fallen asleep and most of the women have come into the living room, mostly to make comments on the commercials, which are more interesting than the game. The four little girls are asleep in Jimmy and Yves' bed, Michelle and William are in their mothers' arms, and Luke has nodded off against his father's shoulder. A cell phone suddenly blares out. "I thought we agreed everybody was going to cut off their phones for the game," Skinner grumbles. "That's mine," Scully replies. "I turned it back on when Missy left for the hospital." She quickly hands William to his father and fumbles in a nearby diaper bag for her phone. "Scully." She's quiet for a moment, a big smile spreading over her face. Then she hollers out, "It's a girl!" The whole room erupts in cheering and shouts of "Yay, Missy!" and "Way to go, Pendrell!" Luke, awakened by the noise, turns to his father and asks sleepily, "Did somebody score a touchdown?" "Much better than that, son," Doggett assures him. "Somebody had a baby." The End
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