Your mountain is waitin', kid.

[Maria Graziano]

“I need ice cream,” Maria said suddenly, her gaze shifting up to Bode as they traveled swiftly down the sidewalk towards their RhyDin apartment.

Bode grinned down at her. He was amused that Maria’s stomach never seemed fully satisfied. Pregnancy only seemed to make it worse. “We just had burgers, Spanky.”

“Yeah, and now it’s time for desert,” she replied.

“We got some at home. How ‘bout we just eat there,” Bode said, attempting to keep a light tone. The press had been hounding them since the loss. Of course, there was the bad press swirling around Maria dropping the last duel in the TDL Finals but, after the match, she was also overheard making comments that seemed to suggest that she was pregnant again.

There was only so much sheltering one man could do. For even when trying to remain inconspicious, Maria and Bode stuck out in a crowd. He stood six feet and three inches but his hulking frame made him seem even taller. His features were unmistakable – his shaggy dark locks had a bit of a curl and a goatee always framed his good-natured grin. Maria was also tall for a woman at five feet and eight inches. Her mass of wild dark locks was hard to hide as was her stormy air. Thus, attempting to dodge the press became an even greater challenge.

This night in particular, Maria had stuffed her dark hair into a tight bun and then under a baseball cap. She hid her pregnant form in one of Bode’s Captain Hammer’s hooded sweatshirts but the lettering was so faded that one would never been able to identify exactly what it was promoting. Bode also wore a baseball cap. Both of the caps had the phrase “SLC fan for life!” in a scrawling typeface across the front which was to the great amusement of Maria.

Unfortunately, Bode couldn’t help but turning his backwards which is what allowed the press to catch sight of the pair. Bode saw them as soon as he turned the corner onto their block but it was too late to stop the inevitable. The handful of photographers camped outside their building had identified him.

Placing a hand on the small of Maria’s back, he mumbled down to her, “Brace yourself, darlin’.”

Her dark eyes found what he had seen and she immediately tugged the bent brim of her hat down over her eyes, sticking tightly to his side as he guided them towards their door. “This sucks,” she mumbled in return as her good mood quickly nose dived.

The photographers began to pepper them with questions as flashes lit up the night.

“Bode! Will you return to captaining the Crew after this loss?”

“Maria! Maria! Look here. Just one. Come on!”

“How does it feel to be responsible for another Finals loss?”

“Are you really pregnant?”

“When’s the baby due, Bode?”

Silently, Bode forcefully jabbed in their password into the panel beside the door. The door buzzed and he immediately led Maria inside, shutting the door in the face of the photographers. Their shrill voices still audible and the flashes of from cameras continued to light up the night until the pair turned the corner. Maria released a heavy sigh, removing her hat to allow her dark hair to fall around her shoulders. “I wonder how long it’ll take for this to die down.”

With his jaw stubbornly set, Bode angrily punched the “up” button on the elevator. “We’re not stickin’ around to find out.”

Maria’s brows furrowed at Bode’s rare display of anger. “What?”

“Pack up your stuff, Spanky. This ain’t good for you or the lil’ one. We’re outta here.”

___________

Somehow that dilapidated beach house a day’s trip from RhyDin which Bode had meticulously brought into prestige condition over the past year had remained a secret from both the press and the even more inquisitive Graziano clan. Therefore, when Bode decided to hide his growing little family, it was there that he took his pregnant wife and the overgrown mutt, Jeb, that they had rescued from the pound the year before.

The spring passed with a feeling of lazy relaxation that barely covered their building excitement. There was a shared intense desire to remain cool about the upcoming birth, even in front of one another, created by the disappointment of the two previous miscarriages. Days would pass without either acknowledging the pregnancy. As soon as Maria entered her third trimester, the OB/GYN (who had been paid handsomely to visit them at home) finally convinced the duo that an ultrasound was a necessity for women with troubled pregnancies. Bode and Maria’s silent pact not to get their hopes up was thrown to the wayside without discussion as they squinted and snickered over the fuzzy first pictures of the child curled in the fetal position.

Suddenly the excitement broke through their lazy days. The contagious atmosphere of the house spread even to Jeb who spent a great deal of his day yapping and spinning in circles until he would get so dizzy that placing his rump on the ground proved to be a challenge. Maria spent much of her time searching for baby clothes (for both genders as their optimism did not reach far enough for them to ask the baby’s sex) and furniture at local boutiques where enough money could buy discretion while Bode painstakingly poured over books on baby-proofing houses and painted the extra bedroom of the ocean-front house a soothing light blue.

Bode even took to reading to the baby which, according to the books he had read, they should have begun quite some time before. Maria would roll her eyes in annoyance but submit to the practice without further complaint.

That particular night when Bode informed Maria that it was time to read to the baby before he fell asleep as Bode and Maria were soon headed for bed, Maria had to bite her tongue to not inform him that the baby never seemed to sleep while she slept. Instead, Bode’s child took the moments shortly before Maria had completely drifted off as an excellent time for a shot to the ribs. Instead, she heaved a heavy sigh and settled in on the couch with her head in his lap.

“Congratulations! Today is your day. You’re off to Great Places! You’re off and away!” Bode read. Maria rested her hands on her swollen abdomen as the melodic tone of Dr. Seuss lulled her to near sleep.

She felt her temper dying inside of her. The feeling was encouraging as well as frightening. While she would, of course, value any control of her emotions, she had always assumed that her fierceness and competitive spirit were tied directly to her temper. She had long feared that being a mother would destroy the duelist she had been.

“It’s opener there in the wide open air. Out there things can happen and frequently do to people as brainy and footsy as you.” The words Bode was reading clinked around in her head for a few moments before he was once again tuned out.

Her thoughts turned to RhyDin, her family, the Crew, Wrecking Crew Racing Stables. The thoughts quickly overwhelmed her. Of those parts of her life, the only one she could be assured was still successful was the Stables. Her trainer, Wes Cloinger Jr., kept her well-informed on the happenings and the races taking place. Missing the excitement of the track, she had secretly contemplated disguises that would allow her to slip into Trinity Downs or the Waltatigo Track undetected. Each disguise had been dismissed as too flimsy. Therefore, she soaked in Cloinger’s reports, the Thoroughbred related newspaper blurbs, and the weekly industry magazine.

“I’m sorry to say but, sadly, it’s true that Bang-ups and Hang-ups can happen to you,” Bode read mournfully. “You can get all hung up in a prickle-ly perch. And your gang will fly on. You’ll be left in a Lurch.”

Now her family, the Crew – that was an entirely separate issue. One which she had tried not to think about for the past several months. Illogical guilt and dread slipped over her at the very thought of them running their own lives. She knew it was now time to let go of them but the prospect of doing so seemed quite challenging indeed.

“Oh, the places you’ll go! There is fun to be done! There are points to be scored. There are games to be won. And the magical things you can do with the ball will make you the winning-est winner of all. Fame! You’ll be famous as famous can be, with the whole wide world watching you win on TV.”

Maria’s sleepy mind wondered if Bode realized the irony of them discussing fame as a reward to their unborn as both had seen it as a curse over the course of the past year. Were they being ungrateful? What did Dr. Seuss know of fame? He was, of course, a man who hid behind a pen name for most of his life. Hadn’t he too attempted to sidestep fame and just run off with the fortune? Maria huffed at herself, blaming her tired mind for the disparaging thoughts towards the legendary Seuss.

“But on you will go though the weather be foul. On you will go though your enemies prowl. On you will go though the Hakken-Kraks howl. Onward up many a frightening creek, though your arms may get sore and your sneakers may leak.”

Leaky sneakers. Yuck. That’s such an awful feeling when your socks are all soggy inside your wet sneakers. Maria idly wondered if anybody made waterproof sneakers as she closed her eyes. She was sure they did somewhere. She’d have to get the baby a pair.

“And will you succeed? Yes! You will indeed! (98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.)”

“Kid you’ll move mountains! So... be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O’Shea, you’re off to Great Places! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting. So get on your way!” Bode finished the last line with a hint of a smile and closed the book, noticing his wife had fallen asleep with her head in his lap.

He placed the book on the end table. His large hand reaching up to twist the switch on the lamp so that it flicked off. There he sat in the dark without the heart to wake his wife. He lightly rested his hand on her abdomen, allowing that hint of a smile to grow only slightly as he softly whispered, “Your mountain is waitin’, kid.”

__________

“Mr. and Mrs. Bojangles, you have a beautiful little girl,” the doctor announced over the screaming baby. If nothing else, the child had certainly inherited a Graziano set of lungs.

Bode grinned down at the little girl’s mother who had suddenly turned into an emotional basket case. Tears slipped down her cheeks, her chest still rising and falling rapidly with the massive exertion that she had just underwent. Bode was afraid to tear his eyes from Maria to look at his daughter; afraid that if he did he’d lose both to the same force that caused Maria two miscarriages prior to this. He was still struggling to wrap his mind around this one. He had a daughter. The daughter’s mother was doing relatively well.

“A girl? No, we was havin’ a boy,” Bode said, grinning even wider down at Maria.

The doctor hesitated as if unsure how to handle the situation. Bode’s humor was missed. “No, sir. She’s certainly a little girl.”

“Well, put her back, doc. I wanted a lil’ Bode,” he joked. A soft laugh escaped Maria’s lips while tears still flowed freely down her cheeks. The doctor, finally catching on to the joke, gave a forced chuckle himself.

A tiny, squirming baby swaddled tightly in a blanket and complete with a pink hat was suddenly placed in Maria’s arms. Dark curls peeked out from under the hat. Maria’s tears came to a sudden halt. Her features twisted in a mixture of wonderment and confusion. This perfect little thing was her’s and Bode’s to raise. She too seemed to be struggling to wrap her mind around it.

Bode gave a chuckle as he leaned in over mother and daughter. “She’s a mighty small lil’ one, Spanky.” He reached out a calloused hand to touch the shrieking baby’s tiny fingers as if unbelieving that fingers could be that small.

“Do you two have a name picked out, Mom?” asked a rotund, middle-aged nurse with a clipboard full of paperwork in hand.

“We do,” replied Maria.

“We do?” Bode looked up from the baby in confusion.

“Adriana. After my grandmother,” Maria said softly, unable to tear her eyes from the squawking little girl.

Bode chuckled but did not mention that there would be yet another female in the family that could use “Ria” as a nickname. He glanced up at the nurse, offering her his warm friendly smile. “Adriana Graziano Bojangles it is.”

___________

The following article, written by Gary Stinwich, appeared in Sunday’s RhyDin Morning News.

There are times in this job when the subject I’m reporting is so secretive that I cannot even let my editor in on the subject of my article until it is ready for print. When I came in the other morning and told my editor that I was on my way to an isolated coastal village but I could not tell him what I was going there to report or an exact time when the article would be ready to hit the press, I could tell that I was pushing my luck. I am sure he wondered for a moment or two if I was just using this as an excuse for a beach getaway. However, being that I had delivered on such vague promises before, he sent me packing.

I arrived at the Sunset Beach Hospital the day after the event. Being that it is a small hospital in an even smaller town with little in the way of news-worthy happenings, I expected it to buzz with excitement being that two -- now two and a half – celebrities were in their midst. Yet, it did not. When I questioned nurse at the front desk as to the room number of the woman I was here to speak to, the nurse had to consult the aging computer screen in front of her.

This struck me as exactly what my interviewee had wanted – anonymity. A location where not a soul cared what she did for a living.

I found the room with little trouble. After all, there isn’t much room to get lost at the SB Hospital. I passed a nurse who was leaving the room and was politely told that I was expected. The friendly nurse closed the door behind me when I entered the room. The room was sparsely decorated but natural light flooded in from the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Honestly, I could tell you little more about the room. I was anxious to see mother and daughter. The pair were in a rocking recliner near the window. The baby was tightly swaddled in a fuzzy pink blanket with a matching pink knit cap. Dark curls swept out from under the cap; already unwilling to be submissive.

The baby’s mother – Maria Graziano Bojangles – glanced up from me with an uncontrollable smile as I took a seat in a chair beside them to admire the baby. “Isn’t she perfect?” she asked, unable to control her enthusiasm. I had known for sometime that the young woman was pregnant and she had promised me an exclusive to announce the baby’s birth. During the pregnancy, I wondered often if motherhood would change her. Upon first glance, it was obvious to me that it had. Her two previous miscarriages and the constant press swirling around the infamous Wrecking Crew TDL team had caused her to grow increasingly bitter and standoffish.

That was not the woman I saw holding the sleeping baby. This woman was allowing herself to be excited and was optimistic. Her dark hair was in a simple pair of braids resting on either shoulder and her unmade face was tight with weariness. Yet, she was far more beautiful than I had ever seen her.

Maria placed the swaddled bundle in my arms, ignoring my protestation that I’d never held such a young child, which offered me the unparalleled experience of holding a newborn. Ten tiny fingers clutched at the pink blanket as the newborn offered a content sigh in her sleep. I must admit that Maria’s enthusiasm and smile was so infectious that little interviewing actually took place. I, too, was caught up in simply admiring the baby girl.

Explaining that Bode Bojangles was out getting her “real food”, Maria gave me all the details she was willing to give. Adriana Graziano Bojangles had been born the day before, June ninth, and weighed in at 6 pounds and 8 ounces (“which seems to be a very important stat in the birthing world,” Maria qualified with a shrug). The baby slept peacefully despite my awkwardness as if she already knew that she was a child well-protected by her ruffianly parents.

My time with the duo seemed short. Maria began to look increasingly sleepy but kept her polite demeanor throughout our time together. She described to me – a soon-to-be father myself – the “joys” of childbirth with cynical sarcasm but it lacked the biting edge that I had come to expect from her. She introduced me to Martha, the shy yet fantastically peppy nurse that occasionally checked on us and the child. In a tone dangerously bordering on loving, Maria related to me the delivering doctor’s shock when he announced the baby was a girl and was told, jokingly, by Bode to put her back in because he wanted a boy.

With all the subtlety of a riotous boar, Bode suddenly appeared in the doorway (with a bag full of greasy food to quell Maria’s infamous stomach) and made it clear with as much charm as he could manage that his wife and baby needed to rest. Maria smiled tiredly as we said our goodbyes and I handed the baby over to her father who could not help but smile proudly down at the sleeping babe. Before I could finish congratulating him and finding my way out, Bode suddenly remembered he had something he wanted to show me.

The something was the outfit that the baby would go home in the following day. There was the typical pink hat, blanket, and booties, of course, but I knew that one man didn’t pull another man over to show him booties. The prize Bode wished to show off was a pink onesie outfit with bold chocolate lettering across the chest declaring, “I can kick your baby’s ass.”

I believe it is safe to say that the Graziano attitude will be carried on into the next generation.