Stealth insurgence, p.7
Stealth Insurgence, page 7
“Yes; we’ll be there shortly.” I hung up and whooped. “Zander! We can move in today.”
“Have you had enough to eat?”
I shrugged. “Too excited to swallow another bite.”
“Me too. Let’s go.”
We called Izzie as we left the restaurant. She and Emilio had offered to help us move in, so we asked Izzie if she would fetch Emilio for us and meet us at our new digs around 10 a.m. We also asked if she could recruit at least one hardy male from the young adult group to help Zander with the heavy lifting.
“Not a problem—leave it to me,” she told us.
We returned to our hotel so Zander could fetch the moving truck. We had been driving yet another rental car so we wouldn’t have to drive the truck all over town while we were apartment hunting. Zander and I met up at the apartment complex’s office where we signed for the keys. As soon as we had them, we navigated through the parking lot to our building and Zander backed the truck into a parking space near the steps leading up to our second-floor apartment.
It wouldn’t take long to unload the truck once our little crew arrived, but we didn’t want them to see all the baby gifts—not until after our surprise Thanksgiving announcement to Zander’s family. So, before Izzie and Emilio arrived, Zander planned to unload all the baby gifts and stack them in the apartment’s second bedroom, locking the bedroom door behind him.
To no little dismay on my part, he insisted on doing most of the job himself.
“I thought about it while we were driving here, and I don’t want you carrying anything heavy from here on, Jay. I can manage the boxed baby furniture without you. The crib might be a smidge awkward to handle on the stairs, but it’s nothing I can’t manage.”
According to him, I was forbidden to lift anything due to my “fragile state.”
Fragile state?
“Zander, I’m having a baby, not recovering from back surgery—and I can still bench press 150 pounds—because nanomites, remember?”
“Yeah, but why take unnecessary risks? Like, what if you tripped on the stairs while carrying something and fell? Keep in mind that this is our only baby, Jay.”
We must concur with Zander, Jayda Cruz. While you should continue to exercise regularly to retain an optimal state of health during your pregnancy and while we are watching over you to provide extra support when needed, our research indicates that lifting more than twenty pounds is not advisable.
“Butt out, Nano. And FYI, all that research? It applies to women who don’t have a couple trillion nanomites fused to their skeletal system and musculature.”
Zander lifted his eyebrows and murmured softly, “Our only baby, Jayda.”
I deflated. “Yeah, okay. Whatever.”
I checked the time: 9:35. Izzie and Emilio would be arriving around 10:00 a.m.
“You’d better get a move on, bud.”
“I’m on it.”
Izzie, with Emilio in the passenger seat, pulled into view minutes after Zander finished with the baby gifts and furnishings. Izzie’s arrival was followed not by one guy to help, but three young men from Zander’s former young adult Bible study—Josh, Todd, and Diego.
“Oh, man, it is so good to see you guys!” Josh said, hugging Zander while simultaneously pounding him on the back. “It’s been like a desert around here since you left, Pastor Zander.”
Diego snorted. “Like a desert? It is the desert, you dork.”
“Yeah, but it’s the high desert, moron. Besides, I was speaking spiritually.”
“I’ll agree with that,” Todd said, nodding. “Dry as a bone without the Bible studies you used to teach. We’re parched.”
“You’ll get a new young adult pastor soon.”
“I guess the board has interviewed maybe three prospective pastors, but since you’re back, won’t they rehire you?”
Zander shook his head. “I think the Lord has something different for me at this time. Be patient; I’m sure Pastor McFee has someone in mind.”
I glanced at Zander. He knew more than he was letting on, but it wasn’t our place to make the announcement. “Well, we’re glad you are here to help, aren’t we, Zander?”
“Better believe it. Come on, guys—and Izzie. Let’s get the boxes out of the truck so we can get to the big stuff.”
You might say that the guys formed a bucket brigade from the truck to our front door. They pulled boxes from the truck one by one, and handed each one off to the next person, who handed the box on up the stairs, around the corner, and down to our doorway. I noted the markings on each box—bedroom, kitchen, bathroom—and I had them stack the boxes in groups.
When the guys had cleared all the boxes from the truck, it was time for the furniture. I directed our crew on where to put the few big pieces we owned—bed frame, mattress, dresser, nightstand, sofa, and our little dining table and chairs. Our four strapping young men and Emilio made quick work of them. In fact, it took all of an hour to completely empty the truck. While Zander and the guys put our bed frame together, Izzie and I unpacked the sheets, pillows, and comforter.
Fifteen minutes later, our bedroom, except for a stack of boxes containing clothes, looked habitable. Our crew collapsed in the living room.
“Well, that was fairly easy,” Diego said from the sofa. “You guys are organized.”
“And you guys are awesome,” I replied. I found the cooler and cracked it open. “Something cold to drink? Sodas? Bottled water?”
After I passed drinks around, Zander said, “All that’s left is to return the truck.”
“Right—cause we don’t have a bunch of boxes to unpack,” I drawled.
“Er, right. Truck is next, not last.”
“Hey, Zander?” Todd was sprawled on the living room carpet, guzzling a soda. “Any chance the young adults could come over and hang out with you guys once in a while? You know, like to play games or watch a movie?”
Zander was careful with his answer. “Sure, but I don’t want to do anything that might be construed as interfering with the new young adult leader—that is, whenever he is appointed and installed.”
Todd persisted. “Well, until we actually get another young adult leader, can we come over sometimes, have fellowship with you guys and read the word together? See, UNM’s new semester has started, and we need some sort of structure for the young adults who are giving DCC a try.”
Zander did see. He looked at me, and I nodded. “That sounds okay. I know we would enjoy the fellowship.”
“Like every Friday night?” Todd asked, “Six or seven-ish?”
Zander laughed. “All right. But you guys are in charge of organizing. I won’t take charge or call anyone or lift a finger to coordinate activities. That’s all on you.”
Diego nodded. “You got it, Boss. Organic and unofficial all the way.”
Josh added, “And we’ll stop when the new guy gets here.”
When Zander nodded, the guys grinned. Todd and Diego high-fived.
“All right! Getting the gang back together!”
“Well, I have laundry to do,” Izzie announced. “You ready to go, Emilio?”
Emilio gave Zander and me a big hug, then headed out with Izzie. Josh, Todd, and Diego followed on their heels.
AS SOON AS THEY WERE out the door, I began to unpack and set up the kitchen, my stomach announcing that it was lunch time somewhere in the world. Why? Because food was uppermost in my mind. All. The. Time.
My abnormally supercharged appetite, needed to fuel my abnormally supercharged metabolism, was eating for two, meaning I was pretty much nonstop ravenous. And being preggo, I also felt like I was frequently “off my nut.”
Stupid hormones.
The nanomites monitored and did their best to stimulate or moderate my hormone levels. Whatever I lacked in that department, they supplemented, either manufacturing what they could themselves or providing them via their (apparently) newly minted license to practice medicine and prescribe medications.
Before we’d left Maryland, I received three text messages stating that my prescriptions were ready. I picked up the medications along with the nanomites’ recommended prenatal vitamins and folic acid supplement and left it to the nanomites how they reconciled “my doctor’s” orders and the pharmacy’s inventory.
The nanomites were, I was learning, ferocious watchdogs when it came to the little bun in my oven, and that was fine with me. After all, I would not be seeing an obstetrician during my pregnancy or delivery, because any type of blood work requested by said doctor would have totally freaked out both the lab and the doc.
Nope. With the nanomites presiding over my prenatal care, we would also be doing a home birth. On one point, however, Zander and I were not only in agreement, we were militant.
Zander had put it to the nanomites this way: “Nano, you will not, in any way, shape, form, or fashion, join yourselves to our child. You will not alter, mutate, or enhance him or her. We expect your promise on this. Do we have it?”
Yes, Zander Cruz. We will watch over—
“Hold it right there. Remember—we’ve said we don’t want to know the gender until he or she is born.”
We will comply, Zander Cruz. Going forward, then, how do you wish us to refer to the child?
Zander and I held a little side convo, and Zander replied to the nanomites, “Please use ‘the baby’ or maybe ‘Baby Cruz’ in place of specific pronouns. And, no, we’re not going to call him or her some dumb, politically correct, make-believe word like ‘theyby.’”
Very good, Zander and Jayda Cruz. We will respect your wishes.
“Thanks, Nano,” I answered.
We will also, of course, monitor Baby Cruz’s development.
“Okaaaay,” I said, wondering what unarticulated clause or loophole I was agreeing to.
Zander must have followed my train of thought. “If anything concerning comes up in the baby’s development, you will do nothing without first discussing it with us, right, Nano?”
Absolutely, Zander Cruz.
I looked at Zander. He looked at me. We both sighed.
We knew the nanomites were completely loyal and trustworthy—to Jesus first (the Jesus Tribe as they referred to him) and to us second. They had always done their best for our well-being. But we’d also had enough experience with them to have learned, sometimes the hard way, that the nanomites were quite creative in their own right. Specifically, when they had found “logical” work-arounds to circumnavigate ethics and social mores.
Right then, my stomach rumbled so loud that Zander heard it.
“Lunch?”
I laughed. “Please! The sooner, the better.”
“Take the truck back on our way to that buffet restaurant on San Mateo?”
“I won’t survive that long. How about we eat first, return truck after?”
“Whatever you need, Jay,” Zander said, wrapping his arms around me. “Whatever you need, you and our little pumpkin.”
I grinned. “Our little pumpkin needs baked chicken! A big plate of chicken. And pie.”
THE APARTMENT TOOK shape quickly once we had unloaded the truck, but we only unpacked the boxes we would need in the short-term. The rest we locked in the second bedroom with all the baby paraphernalia. Hopefully, we would find and purchase a house before our three-month lease was up and before I was quite far along. Perhaps even sooner. I was scouring the Albuquerque real estate market and had come up with what I thought was a brilliant idea.
I was fixing our lunch when I heard Zander’s key in the door. He had gone out to get our groceries for the week.
Yes, groceries. We decided to cut down on eating out because it was expensive. Both of us were financially conservative, not wanting to waste the blessing God had given us via our Malware contractor checks. And since we weren’t working jobs nor were we under time and schedule constraints, we had time to cook. Of course the size of our grocery bill would have bankrupted most couples, and the amount of food we brought home from the stores would have normally fed a small army.
“Mmm. Is that chow I smell? I’m as hungry as a horse.”
“Tell me something new, Zander Cruz.”
While he unpacked the bags and put the groceries away, I said, “I’ve been noodling on an idea, Babe. Can I tell you what I’m thinking while we eat?”
“Sure. Let me wash up. Be right there.”
We sat down at the table together a few minutes later. I had made eight grilled cheese sandwiches, heated three cans of cream of tomato soup, laid out a plate of saltines, and sliced up four apples. We prayed, then dug in. My tummy, thankfully, seemed to approve of what I was putting in it. I was grateful for that because I had lost three pounds since we left DC—and I was already lean enough.
I hadn’t noticed, however. The nanomites had brought it to my attention.
Jayda Cruz, we recommend a high-calorie nutritional drink to supplement your meals.
Good grief. Whatever the problem, they tripped all over themselves to provide a solution.
“I’ll pick some up, Nano. Thank you.”
We had Zander buy two cases for you, Jayda Cruz.
“Why, of course you did, Nano. Thank you.”
Sheesh.
Zander interrupted my woolgathering. “What were you ‘noodling on,’ my love, my wife, the darling mother of my child?”
I giggled.
“That’s funny, is it?”
“Not funny, Dearest, but wonderful—especially the ‘darling mother of my child’ part.”
He leaned over, nuzzled my cheek, then my ear. Breathed on my neck until the tiny hairs there stood up and saluted.
“Uh, earth to Zander: The soup is cooling, and you won’t like it cold.”
He looked up—a bare three inches from my eyes—and made a sad puppy dog face. “Have we come to this? I make amorous advances, and you shut me down? Why, you hurt my feelings.”
“Oh, brother.”
I waggled one eyebrow, and he laughed with me—both of us happy in our mutual affection.
“Okay, but I have dibs on you tonight, my sweets,” he grinned.
“Oh? What if I have dibs on you first?”
“Hmm. Let me think. Oh, why, yes, I believe I can accommodate your expectations.”
I smiled. He smiled. We attacked our lunch.
Through a mouthful of sandwich, he asked, “Noodle?”
“It’s tomato soup, Sweetie. No noodles.”
Zander swallowed, “I said noodling.”
“Oh, that. Well, I did a little exploring of the Albuquerque real estate market—and with every listing that caught my eye, one question kept popping up: If we bought that house, how and when would we see Abe and Emilio? How can we be there to support Abe if we’re across town or on the west side? Isn’t that why we rented this apartment, so we would be less than five minutes from them?”
Zander nodded. “Well, yeah. You’re not wrong.”
“Good, because I looked up the Flores’ house on the MLS and guess what? Maybe because of Mateo’s eyesore to their right or Gemma Keyes’ vacant lot on their left, their house is practically dirt cheap.”
“What? You’re thinking we should buy the Flores’ house? I mean, no offense, but it’s not the best neighborhood for raising children.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, but think about it. We’d be right across the street from Abe and Emilio. The house’s floorplan matched my old place, but they had added on a third bedroom when their kids were little. Emilio would have his own room and could spend the night with us. In fact, he could pop over anytime. Not only is the house priced right, we’d have enough cash on hand to remodel the kitchen and bathroom.”
“Huh.”
I could tell he was mulling it over.
“Had another idea, too.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Well, what if we could get Emilio the clear title to Mateo’s house? With Mateo gone, shouldn’t be too hard. Then we could petition the court to let us fix up the house and rent it out to benefit Emilio. It would provide a nice little passive income stream for him. College money. And perhaps the court would agree to allot a small monthly payment from the rent receipts to Abe for Emilio’s upkeep—in addition to what he gets as a foster parent.”
Zander guffawed. “I think I see where you’re going with this. Neighborhood not up to our exacting standards? Change it. Gentrification coming right up! Next you’ll be asking to buy Gemma’s empty lot. Am I right?”
“As a matter of fact, you are. We can afford both the Flores’ house and the lot my old place sat on. Then, including Abe’s place, we’d have four of the six lots on the cul-de-sac. We could either build a new house on Gemma’s lot and rent out the Flores’ place when we’re done, or . . .”
“Or?”
“Or we could fence it in with the Flores’ back yard. Turn it into a playground for our kiddo and a veggie garden for us, Abe, and Emilio. A big veggie garden.”
Zander opened his mouth to say something, but his gaze had gone far away. Well, I’d given him some tempting ideas to think on.
And while he wasn’t paying attention, I snagged the last half of our grilled cheese sandwiches. Yes, my tummy was doing better.
SUNDAY! WE WERE PRETTY jazzed that it was, too. We raced around the apartment that morning getting ready for church, then drove to the cul-de-sac to pick up Abe and Emilio.
I was so excited to be on our way to DCC that I almost threw up. Almost. Zander pulled over before we got to Abe’s and I hung my head out the door until the nausea passed.
Despite this bout, I knew that my morning sickness was getting better. I was learning to manage it, and the nanomites helped when they could. I had to avoid strange and nasty smells, make sure that I ate enough but not too much, and keep myself from getting too rowdy—as in excited. Like this morning.
That said, being back in DCC’s sanctuary, surrounded by friends and immersed in worship was the best thing for me. As I listened to Pastor McFee preach, I knew I was home. Home in Albuquerque, home in my growing little family, and home spiritually.
There’s nothing like it, folks.
