#i need to be quarantined in a box with a blanket and some takeout for everyones safety

[geneticcatalyst]

[jobrookekarev]

A Little Something Extra

Chapter: 1/1

Words: 5800

Summary: Jo and Alex agree to babysit Scout for the weekend and after spending the weekend with him they wonder what it would be like to have a baby of their own.  

Fandom: Grey's Anatomy.

Relationship: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson Karev.

Characters: Alex Karev, Jo Wilson Karev, and Scout Shepherd-Lincoln, (Mentioned: Amelia Shepherd and Atticus Lincoln)

Rating: General Audiences.

Additional Tags: Domestic Fluff, Babies, Reeses the dog, Grumpy Alex, Jo being cute.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

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“Hey,” Jo said, bouncing up to the nurse’s station like a little ball of sunshine. Her eyes were as bright as the late March sun and he could tell that she was smiling under her mask. Jo instantly brightened his day as she put her arm around his neck, leaning in for a quick masked kiss. 

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Alex asked, smiling as Jo held up a takeout bag from their favorite Thai restaurant. 

“I brought you lunch and I thought we could eat it together,” Jo said, grabbing his hand and pulling him away.

“Okay, any particular reason why?” Alex asked, noting that Jo's eyes were just a little too bright and that she was a little too eager to whisk him away to an on-call room. She closed the door behind them and they took off their masks.

“Okay, so don't be mad, but the nurses called down and said that you were grumpy,” Jo said, frowning as Alex curled his upper lip, adopting his grumpy look as he stopped in front of her. “Also I may or may not have promised Link and Amelia that we would babysit Scout for the weekend.”

“Well, you can tell Janet that I wouldn't be so grumpy if… Wait, did you say that we were babysitting for the weekend?”

Jo just smiled at him as he set her with a glare. Alex tried his hardest to stay mad at her, but it was almost impossible, especially with that smile. He was happy to see her. They didn't get much time together with the pandemic and her fellowship. Although they had tried to make more time for each other and Reeses since they got back from their Christmas vacation in Leavenworth, the pandemic still put a strain on their relationship. Her lunch visits were the best part of his day, but he also knew that if he let her, she'd sign them up for babysitting every weekend. Leaving them little time to make a baby of their own.

“Okay, I know I should have asked first, I'm sorry,” Jo said faltering in her innocent act as her shoulders slumped. “It’s just that Link talked to me yesterday and he wants to take Amelia to a hotel up north so she can speak at this virtual Neuro conference. It’s this weekend and it was just supposed to be the two of them. They had everything lined up but Meredith got pulled on this big case. So I offered to take him, and I figured it would be good practice for us.”

“We don't need practice though,” Alex said, pulling her in and putting his arm around her waist as she held onto the collar of his scrubs. “I'm a Peds surgeon and your training to be an OB/GYN and a Maternal-Fetal surgeon, together we've taken care of thousands of babies. Besides we babysit for them all the time.”

“I know, but we’ve never had one of the kids stay with us for more than a few hours. Besides you know how much I love Scout and it's just so hard to say no to that little face,” Jo said as she tilted her head and pouted. 

“You're never going to be able to say no to our kids will you?” Alex said, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

“Oh please, like you'll be able to say no to them either,” Jo said with a smile and nudged his shoulder.

“Well I guess our kids will just be spoiled brats,” Alex said, with a smirk.

“Nah, we'll figure it out by the time they're two or so,” Jo said, staring off as if she was imagining it. 

Alex smiled as he watched Jo sigh, before leaning into him and putting her head on his shoulder. He loved imagining their future together, especially with a baby. Sometimes he would sneak up to the maternity ward and see her holding a baby she delivered. He could imagine her holding their baby and he couldn’t wait to make it happen.

“How have you been feeling?” Alex asked, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

She had been throwing up late last night, but was feeling better that morning and didn't want to miss work. So far Meredith had said that she'd been doing fine, but had complained of a headache earlier, and he worried about her.

“Ugh, did Meredith tattle on me again,” Jo sighed and stepped out of his arms.

“Meredith didn't say anything,” Alex said, although Jo raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, she might have said that you had a headache.”

Jo made a face and crossed her arms. “It was just a little headache. I didn't get my coffee this morning because one of the new interns ran into me and spilled it.”

“Okay,” Alex said, with a nod. He didn't want to fight with her, especially on this, he just wanted to sit down and enjoy lunch with his wife. “So what time do we pick up Scout?”

“I'll bring him home with me at the end of the day and Lincoln and Amelia will be back on Sunday sometime around dinner,” Jo said, her cheerful disposition returning with a smile.

“I guess that leaves me to walk Reeses and make dinner,” Alex said, sitting down and pulling out the food.

“Do you mind?” Jo asked, biting her lip.

“And let Scout eat your cooking?” Alex teased her as Jo swatted at his arm. “No, I don’t mind.”

“Good,” Jo smiled as she sauntered over to him and took the fork out of his hand before sitting in his lap. “Because I am very thankful for your help.”

“Oh yeah?” Alex smiled as he put his hand on Jo's hips, pulling out her blouse from where it was tucked into her jeans. 

“Yeah,” Jo said, dipping her head down to kiss him. Alex melted into her kiss as Jo moaned and tilted her head. He got lost in her lips as Jo showed him just how thankful she was. 

……………………………………………………………………

Jo struggled to reach the top of the stairs with Scout and all of his things, he was in the car seat, but there was the pack and play, a suitcase full of clothes and toys, and the diaper bag as well. For some reason, Jo thought she could get it all in one trip, but struggled to reach the top of the stairs. She stopped in front of the door and gently set the car seat down, before dropping everything else.

After a moment, Jo caught her breath and knocked on the door before she looked down at her little godson. She picked up the car seat with one arm as Scout smiled up at her, grabbing his toes and squealing in excitement. After Meredith recovered from COVID, Amelia and Link had moved out of the house and to a place up the street. Since then the Shepherd-Lincoln and Karev families had been co-quarantining together. Jo loved every minute she got with Scout and leaned down to tickle his toes. 

The door to the loft opened to reveal Alex and Reeses, who eagerly jumped around them and barked. Alex made Reeses sit and Jo leaned down to rub his head as he licked her hand.

Then she straightened up and smiled, leaning in to greet Alex with a kiss. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Alex said, putting a hand on her waist, before looking down at Scout, He tickled his toes as well and watched as the eleven-month-old smiled and babbled.

Jo took Scout, leaving everything else and walked into the loft. Reeses bounded around her feet as she made a beeline for the couch. Alex had picked up Reeses’ toys and pushed back the coffee table like they always did when they had Scout. 

“You couldn't have made two trips?” Alex asked, struggling to bring everything into the loft. 

“Well that's why I have a big strong husband, to help me bring stuff in,” Jo laughed as she looked over at him. 

Alex grunted as he put the pack and play over by their bed, like they always did, and put away the rest of Scout’s stuff. While Jo and the boys played on the rug. Jo sat on the blanket and pulled Scout out of the car seat to sit in her lap. Reeses immediately started to play with Scout wagging his tale a mile a minute. Jo grabbed Reeses’ chew toy and handed it to Scout and he waved it around as Reeses chased after it. The two of them were best friends and Jo loved watching them play. 

“Seriously why did Amelia give us all this stuff?” Alex complained as he set the pack and play up. “It's not like we don't have things for him here. We do have him almost every week.”

“I think they're just stressed about leaving him for a whole weekend,” Jo said, smiling at Scout before picking him up to see if he would stand up and hang onto the side of the couch. “But we're going to have lots of fun aren't we Scout.”

Scout smiled and babbled at Jo before Reeses caught his attention. Scout fell down to sit on the rug and reached out to grab the rope toy away from Reeses, suddenly finding it more interesting than his Auntie. Jo grabbed the box of baby toys they kept in the basket under the coffee table and pulled out a mirror and a rattle along with a couple of block toys. 

Alex finished putting away Scout’s stuff and came to sit next to her, putting his arm around her waist as they both played with Scout. They each tried to grab his attention with the toys and see if he would crawl over to whatever they were holding. Although Scout wasn’t walking yet, he would get up and hang on to the side of the furniture, and Link swore that Scout would walk any day now. Jo and Alex always had to resist the urge to test Scout's development every time they had him. They were doctors, it was what they did, but Scout was always on track for development and they were always so excited to see what he learned.

“What's the plan for dinner?” Jo asked, taking her eyes off of Scout as she leaned into Alex and laid her head on his shoulder.

“I was thinking something simple, maybe that lemon pasta dish you like, or not?” Alex said as Jo made a face at the thought of the lemon pasta and grabbed her stomach.

Jo fought off the nausea as she closed her eyes and put her arm around Alex’s neck. He moved to hug her closer and rubbed his hand up and down her back. He always held her when she was sick even if she puked, he would carry her to the toilet and braid her hair. Not even Link would do that for her. When she got sick in college, Link would just stand in the doorway and toss her a water bottle. Alex though, he would hold her forever if he could and Jo would let him. Alex’s arms were safe and comforting. 

“How about baked mac and cheese with broccoli?” Alex asked as he trailed his fingers down her spine. It was her favorite and he knew she wouldn't refuse unless she was truly sick. 

Alex looked down at Scout who smiled as he squealed, stealing the toy from Reeses who whined. When Jo didn't respond and Alex stilled at his fingers at the base of her spine. He couldn't see her face from where her head was laying on his chest, so he reached out to grab the mirror next to Scout and tilted it to see her face. Jo was fast asleep, her lips parted as she slept. He smiled and put the mirror on the couch as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. 

Alex moved ever so slightly to put an arm under her legs and moved the other one around her shoulders to pick her up. He carried her over to the bed and laid her down, pulling the blanket over her and grabbed a bowl from the kitchen to put on the nightstand. Alex looked back at Scout and Reeses who were happily chewing on the blocks and walked over to pick up the baby.

“I guess it's just us boys, so what do you say, Scout? Mac and cheese for you and me, and puppy chow for Reeses, yeah?” Scout squealed happily, his arms flailed around as Reeses yipped and jumped up on Alex’s leg. “That sounds like a yes.” 

……………………………………………………………………

The warm sunset and the cool evening spring wind blew in through the open windows as Jo woke up from her nap. She had to drag herself up as she sat up in bed. The loft seemed empty save for Reeses sleeping next to her. The whole weekend she had gone back and forth between being sick and being fine. It was Sunday evening and she had spent the morning making waffles with Alex, and playing with Scout, but had ended up in the bathroom puking that afternoon. The vomiting had taken its toll on her body, leaving her exhausted. She had fallen asleep on the floor of the bathroom by accident and Alex must have carried her to bed, again. 

As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she heard Alex's voice and looked over to see him reading to Scout. They both sat in the rocker they had set up in the makeshift nursery where Alex’s weights and boxing bag used to be. Jo listened for a moment as he read a medical case to Scout. She smiled as she got up and walked over to them before leaning against the pillar as she watched them. Scout was asleep in Alex’s arms, as his soft voice filled the room like the beams of sun coming in through the window. 

Alex smiled up at her as he finished reading and put the case study on the nightstand, before transferring Scout into the pack and play next to him. Alex held out his arms to her and welcomed Jo in as she sat on his lap and rested her head on his shoulders.

“How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted, even though I just took a nap.”

Alex sighed and pressed a kiss to Jo's forehead. “And how's your stomach?”

“Fine for now, but it keeps flip flopping between nausea and heartburn,” Jo huffed as she pulled at his shirt. “Did Link and Amelia call?”

“Yeah, they video chatted with Scout for a little while,” Alex said, kissing her forehead. “They had one last talk they wanted to watch, but they should be here pretty soon. They seem to have enjoyed the conference though.” 

“You're good at this,” Jo said smiling over at Scout. Since she hadn't been feeling well, Alex had taken on the majority of Scout's care. 

“I am a seasoned ped’s doctor,” Alex said with a wide smile as she turned to look up at him. “And like you said it gives us a good idea of what it’ll be like when we have a baby of our own.”

Jo smiled as Alex mirrored her and leaned down to kiss her again. After he pulled back from the kiss the nausea came back and Jo put a hand on her stomach, leaning away from him just in case. Alex put his hands around her and rubbed up and down her back. It passed as quickly as it came and Jo put her head back on his shoulder.

“Alex, could you go to the drugstore for me?”

“Yeah, of course,” Alex nodded as he brushed her hair out of her face from where it had fallen out of her braid. “Do you want me to get the pink stuff or the red stuff? I know you don't like the liquid kind, but let’s try it and see how it goes.”

Jo just bit her lip and fiddled with Alex’s sweater again before looking back up at him. “I’m not sure that’s what I need.”

……………………………………………………………………

Alex smiled under his mask as he quickly walked down the aisles of the drugstore despite how out of place he felt shopping in this section. When he reached the correct section for the pregnancy tests he paused as he looked at all of the various choices in front of him. There were so many different products, all offering different versions of the same thing, but he had no idea where to start. At the hospital, there was one test that was plain and simple, here there were hundreds. The bright white lights made everything seem so fake and Alex picked up one then set it back, questioning his decision.

He briefly considered calling Jo, she had already told him exactly which one to buy, but he didn't want to admit that he forgot. He could call Meredith, she knew more about this than he did, but he didn’t want to tell her yet. He looked around the near empty store and caught the eye of a middle-aged manager.  

She greeted Alex with soft eyes and walked over to him. “How can I help you?”

“Umm,” Alex's voice escaped him and he felt pretty dumb as he played with his ring and just looked back to the display of products. “My wife’s pregnant, well we think she’s pregnant but we don't have any tests at home so.”

The manager just nodded at him with a knowing smile. “Don't worry most husbands are clueless in this department, but it's always nice to see a man shopping for his wife. This pack of tests is quite reliable and it’s always best to have more than one.”

“Thank you,” Alex said, letting out a breath as his shoulders eased. He let the manager lead him up to the front and pay for it. Once he got back into the car his smile returned as his excitement and anticipation grew the closer he got to the loft.

-----------------------

Jo swayed back and forth with Scout in her arm as she stood by the window and watched the city light up as the lingering light from the sun fell away. She smiled and looked down at the baby in her arms. As he slept she traced her finger from his forehead down and up his little nose. This could be her life someday Jo thought as she leaned forward to kiss his head. 

She heard a car pull up and looked down to see Alex pull into the parking lot. Reeses got up from the bed and raced over to the door, barking as Jo put Scout down in the pack and play. She scooped up Reeses and went back to the window as they watched Alex run into the building and she laughed at his mad dash inside. Jo set Reeses back down as he went to wait by the door and reached for her water bottle. 

She took a sip but found it hard to keep the water down. She had filled up her water bottle before Alex left and had drank too much. It didn't help that she was still nauseated and her anxiety seemed to churn her stomach in a bad combination. Jo walked over to the bathroom, figuring she'd need to be in there anyway to take the test, and sat down against the shower. She closed her eyes and willed the water to stay in her stomach, but it was a losing game and she quickly scrambled over to the toilet, throwing up water and bile. 

Once she was done she leaned against the wall and heard Alex moving around in the loft as he greeted Reeses. She looked up from the toilet bowl, as he opened the door and set the bag on the counter. Alex grabbed a cup, filling it with water, and handed it to her. At this point, she hated to even think about putting water in her mouth, but Jo took it anyway and rinsed out her mouth, before closing the lid to the toilet and flushing it.

“Did you get it?”

“I did,” Alex said, letting a smile spread on his lips as he got the box out of the bag. 

He opened it and pulled out one of the packages, handing it to Jo. Despite how she felt, Jo smiled as well. It wasn’t the test she’d asked for, but let it slide as she read the instructions.

“Are you ready?” Alex asked her, seeing her eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Are you?” 

Alex smiled and leaned forward to kiss her, before remembering that she had just puked and turned his head to kiss her cheek. Jo laughed and put a hand on his chest, pushing him away, but Alex stood firm. He leaned against the wall before sliding down to sit on the floor as Jo raised an eyebrow at him.

“What I’ve seen you pee before and I’m not missing a second of this.”

“Weirdo.”

“Just pee on the stick, Princess.”

Jo shook her head but ripped open the packaging. She dropped her pants and underwear kicking them over to him and Alex neatly moved them so she could step back into them when she was done. She gave Alex one last look, raising her eyebrow, but he just stayed where he was. Jo sighed and sat on the toilet before she held the stick between her legs. She held the test in the stream of pee for a few seconds and then placed it on the side of the sink as Alex set a timer. 

After Jo had finished and washed her hands, she put the cap on the test and sat next to him. She leaned into his chest as Alex put an arm around her shoulders and she took a deep breath. Reeses came in through the open down and settled on Alex’s lap and they both rubbed his ears as they waited. 

“I'm ready for this, and you are too, yeah?” Alex asked looking over at her. 

“Yes,” Jo insisted, emphasizing it with a nod. 

She had always been the one that was apprehensive about having kids. She knew that he was still worried that she was ready, but as Jo looked down at the test in her hands she knew she was ready.

They both anxiously waited for the results to appear, as Jo pressed her fingers to her lips and Alex rubbed Reeses’ ears as the puppy slept on his lap. They both wanted so badly for the test to be positive and stared at it as if they could will it into being. They had been trying since December and were waiting for her to miss a period, but so far she hadn’t and was due to get it any day now.

Scout let out a heavy sigh breaking the silence as they both turned their heads to glance out the bathroom door to watch him kick as he slept. Jo knew that Alex loved babysitting all of their friends' kids, but that he longed for a baby of his own. They had watched their friends become parents and even though they were happy to be Aunt Jo and Uncle Alex. She knew that he was ready for kids of their own and she was ready too. 

“If it's positive we have to go see Carina right away. I don’t care if it’s too early,” Jo said, despite how she knew her genetic history was fine, she needed to know that their baby was okay.

“Yeah, we should get you seen and make sure everything's okay. Regardless you’ve barely kept anything down all day and you could be dehydrated,” Alex said as Jo turned to lean into him and he ran his hand up and down her back. 

“God, is this what it's gonna be like all the time?” Jo moaned into his shoulder.

“No, we can get you on something to ease the nausea,” Alex said, kissing her forehead. He hated to see her like this and couldn't imagine it going on for several more weeks. 

“If I'm pregnant, then I think I'm five weeks along, which makes sense, given the sudden arrival of symptoms.”

“Which means you got pregnant the week of Zola and Bailey's spring break when we were helping Mer with the kids.”

“Oh my God, what if our baby was conceived from that quickie we had in Meredith’s bathroom?” Jo said with a laugh, putting a hand over her mouth. 

“We could always just say they were conceived in an on-call room,” Alex said, joining in her laughter.

“Oh no, I don't know what is worse, a baby conceived in an on-call room or in a friend's bathroom?” Jo said as they both continued to laugh, jostling Reeses in Alex's lap. 

The puppy woke up and moved off of Alex's lap and went back into the loft in search of a better place to nap. Their laughter tapered off and Jo closed her eyes as she leaned back into Alex's chest. She tried to take deep breaths as her heart pounded in her chest. The ringing of Alex's phone pulled her out of her head as she looked over at him. Alex gave her a nod and she turned over the test in her hand. 

It was negative. Jo wasn't pregnant.

Her breath came out as a heartless sob, as she put her hand over her mouth. Alex pulled her back into his chest and put his head on top of hers. “It's okay Jo. It’s okay.”

She was in shock, she shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut as Alex held her against him. She couldn't believe that it was negative. It all made sense that she would have been pregnant. Why wasn't she pregnant?

There was a knock at the door and Reeses started barking as Scout started crying. It had to be Amelia and Link, but Jo didn't think she could face them without falling into tears. She looked up at Alex and he just nodded. 

“I’ll get Scout and tell them you're sick with the flu,” Alex said leaning in to place a kiss against her forehead before he got up. 

Jo watched him run out into the loft yelling to Amelia and Link that he was coming and quieting Reeses. Alex picked Scout up as he calmed down in his arms and smiled at his Uncle. It was so perfect and all Jo could think about was how he should be a Dad. Jo knew that he would be the best Dad in the world and that he would always take care of their kid.

“Alex,” Jo called out to him as he looked over at her. She wants to tell him that they'll try again, that she'll be pregnant next time, that they'll have a baby soon, but all of her words died on her tongue and she just stared at him.

He gave her a sad smile and bounced Scout in his arms for a second. “It's okay Jo. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay.”

Jo took a deep breath letting his words sink in. She nodded and gave him a smile, it was okay because they could be parents another day. Alex came over and leaned down to kiss her forehead, giving her a chance to say goodbye to Scout as well before he closed the bathroom door. 

……………………………………………………………………

Jo waited until she heard the front door shut to slip out of the bathroom. Reeses was asleep on the rug having tired himself out playing with Scout all weekend and it seemed that Alex wasn't far behind him. Jo smiled at Alex as he collapsed on the couch and walked over to stand in front of him. He reached out to take her hand and she let herself be pulled down into his lap. Jo sat sideways in his lap, with her back against the armrest as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She looked over at him as he closed his eyes and laid his head back. 

“One weekend of babysitting got you all worn out?” Jo teased as she watched his eyes flutter open for a second as he looked over at her.

“Hey, I was the one who babysat because you have the stomach flu,” Alex said as Jo reached over to tickle his hip, making him laugh and squirm under her. 

Alex captured her hands and held them above his head as he laid his head back against the couch, closing his eyes again. Jo watched him for a second and pulled her hand back from his loose grip. She reached out to put her hand on his cheek and ran her fingers over the grey hairs of his beard. 

“You're not too old to do this every day, are you?” Jo whispered in his ear wondering if Alex had already fallen asleep.

“I’m not old, I’m just greying early trying to keep up with you,” Alex said, a small smile blooming on his lips as he opened his eyes to smirk at her and moved to hold her hips. “I’m only doing it if it’s our own kid and you know maybe we could try right now. If you're up for it?”

Jo smiled and leaned in to kiss him before pulling back. Alex had that devious spark in his eye and he quickly moved his hands up her back to her bra strap. Jo laughed as he kissed down her neck, but pulled away from his lips. 

“Alex, wait,” Jo said in between giggles. Alex pulled back to look at her as she put a hand on his chest and shook her head. “We don't need to try for a baby.”

Jo let her words hang between them, hoping that he'd figure it out, but Alex just looked confused.

“What do you mean? I thought you wanted a baby?” Alex asked, his eyebrows coming together with a little worry line on his forehead and his lips slightly parted as he stared at her. Jo shook her head at his clueless look and laughed again. 

“We don't need to try for a baby because I'm pregnant!” 

“What?” Alex asked in disbelief as he looked at her with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

“I'm pregnant. It was a false negative. I took the other three and they were all positive,” Jo said, her smile so big it hurt her cheeks and she watched the excitement unfold across his face.

“We're having a baby!” Alex exclaimed as he leaned forward and peppered her face with kisses, laughing with excitement in between kisses. 

He kissed her forehead, her nose, and her cheeks. He put one arm around her waist before he looked down and pulled up her t-shirt. She wasn't showing and neither of them expected her to be, but Alex still put a hand over her lower abdomen, just under the hem of her sweatpants. 

“We're having a baby,” Alex breathed out, still in disbelief. 

Jo smiled, happy to be in this moment with her family. They laughed and kissed until Jo got the hiccups and Alex ran to grab her cup of water. When he returned with the water, Alex sat down beside her and she leaned against him. After her hiccups disappeared, Jo’s nausea came back. Despite how hard she tried, she couldn't keep the water down and threw up within a few minutes. Much to Reeses’ delight as he tried to eat the vomit water from the bowl on the floor.

“Okay, let's head to the hospital,” Alex said, wiping her chin and taking the bowl away from Reeses before he could get it and dumped it in the toilet.

Jo sighed and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. “Fine, but if anyone asks I have the flu. I don't want anyone knowing I'm pregnant yet.”

“Okay but if Mer asks.”

“No, we are not telling Meredith,” Jo insisted, pointing a finger at him.

“She's gonna figure it out, Jo,” Alex said holding up his hands.

“Well, she can mind her own business for once. This is between you and me,” Jo said as Reeses whined at her feet. “Okay it’s between you, me, and Reeses, but I don’t want anyone else knowing I'm pregnant. They're going to start treating me like glass and gushing over me. I see it all the time on the maternity ward. It happened with Amelia and Meredith and I want to avoid it as long as possible.”

“Everyone should be gushing over you and you should be taking it easy. It's exciting and it's already taking a lot out of you,” Alex said, coming back to sit on the coffee table across from her.

He put his hands on her knees as he smiled and tilted his head. It was that adorable look that he always gave her. He cared about her so much and sometimes it surprised her because no one cared for her the way Alex did. Even if he was overprotective of her at times.

“I want to work up until my due date. I’m halfway through my OB fellowship and I want to finish it and take my boards in May.”

“Okay.”

“And I don't want you or anybody other than Carina pulling me off of surgeries, because they think I can't handle it.”

“Okay.”

“And if I have to take time off, you have to take time off too,” Jo said, setting him with a look. “We're in this together and it wouldn’t be fair if I have to be the only one at home with the baby.”

“Jo, I promise you that I'm not going to leave you with all the childcare,” Alex insisted, leaning forward and taking a hold of her hands. “You are going to carry this baby for forty weeks and after that, I promise you that I'll take care of you and the baby so that you can rest. You won't even have to change a diaper if you don't want to.”

Jo nodded and she knew that he would keep his promise. Alex was good to her like that. She reached up and put her hand on his cheek. Alex smiled as he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. 

“You're a good man Alex Karev and you're going to be a good Dad too.”

Alex smiled and leaned up to kiss her forehead. He lingered there before Jo pulled back and stood up. He put his arm around her waist and led her into the car, grabbing her things and asking Layla across the hall to watch Reeses, before they headed to the hospital. 

“So I won't have to change a single diaper?” Jo asked looking over at him as he got in the car next to her. 

“Do you want to change diapers?” Alex said looking over at her with a smirk anticipating her answer.

“Nope,” Jo said as she shook her head, shutting up and looking out the window with a smile.

[twiceblackvelvet]

Purgatory

TW// mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts

To say that Kim Jisoo has had very little in life would be an understatement. Whilst most people grew up in loving households, parents doting on them every waking second of the day and teaching them life lessons in preparation for adulthood, Jisoo was forced to fend for herself at every turn.

The care system is a broken one and quite frankly, the number of foster homes she had been a part of and then ultimately removed from was never-ending. Some of them pretentious and with unrealistic ideals of who they thought she should be, none of them ever right. The others barely able to keep a firm grip on their own lives never mind hers too. 

It was only a matter of time before she decided to stop trying with the fake parent’s people kept trying to give her and live out her teenage years among what society would consider burdens. However, the addicts, the desperate, and the people without homes all offered her a sense of belonging. After all, they too likely come from the same place as her. Broken home after broken home will quickly make you believe that no home at all is the better alternative. Dysfunctional has a craving for the chaotic. 

It’s been this way for a few years now, no longer considered a child of this earth, instead, a full-grown adult who should have responsibilities, career prospects, friends to take funny selfies with, a life, essentially. But none of those things exist when you’re stuck in Purgatory. 

That’s what everyone calls it. Purgatory. The area is known for its increased number of people living in doorways or alleys. Sleeping near houses belonging to those of social status and wealth. Being stepped on both figuratively and literally every morning by them and their mammoth security detail who scurry everyone away. A blight on humanity is what she and the others here are considered and it’s something that those whose most difficult decision in life is whether today is Gucci or Dior don’t wish to see. But there’s nowhere else for them to go. So when they drive their fancy cars down the street, they’re forced to see life from the opposite end of the spectrum whether they like it or not. 

Not that any of them ever spare her a second glance. Simply raising their perfectly sculpted noses in the air and turning a blind eye. A single drop of their wealth could bring an end to what she’s sure they call a “plague” on society and yet, their crummy little hands keep a firm hold on their expensive tiny purses that are worth more than her entire life. 

It’s almost spring, the weather hasn't been so bad recently. The harsh conditions of winter have passed without claiming her life, though, a very small part deep down wishes that it had so she could be put out of her misery without having to do anything to cause it. Not that she hasn’t tried, multiple times in fact, but things just never want to go her way. Thus, the air continues to fill her lungs, her pulse remains strong, and the idea of attempting again seems futile.

The latest “spot” if you can call it that, where she has been staying, has recently become unavailable, however. Fences being built in place especially to stop her and a few others lingering in the alleyway between two buildings. It’s a shame, truly. Though it wasn’t the warmest area she’d laid her head, it was comfortable and spacious enough for her to share with some of the friends she’s made. 

However, once again, she’s picking up the holed, stained blanket that is barely even holding itself together nowadays, and moving on to find somewhere else to get some rest. The only time she ever feels peace is when her eyes are jammed firmly shut and her brain escapes to the dreamland. Ironically, none of the illusions her mind creates ever include her escaping this life, but rather, delving further into the horrors of the underworld. 

She drags her feet slowly across the pavement, head down watching her small steps, idly kicking a pebble along with her whenever one ends up before her mangled, dirty shoes. That is until her forehead ends up pressed against a soft material that propels her body back a few places. 

“Watch where you’re going, freak!” The mouth, belonging to the body she just collided with shouts abruptly causing her head to snap upward and meet their eyes with her own. Well, she would do that if they weren’t concentrating wholly on the phone screen in their hand. 

Cascading dark hair frames the girl’s face. Her eyes covered by the biggest pair of sunglasses Jisoo has ever seen. Her features appear small and delicate, though Jisoo shifts her focus to her outfit and recognizes quickly that this is another of those rich kids she despises. Her coat lined with fur and designer shoes a dead giveaway that they are from two different worlds. In fact, she’s amazed this girl hasn’t called her daddy to request her coat be put into quarantine to rid it of all of her homeless bacteria, or burn it. 

“You… You  aren’t even watching where you’re going... brat.” She offers in retort, however, the girl has already pushed past her and carried on walking by the time she stutters them out. She simply raises her middle finger over her own shoulder and carries on staring at her phone. 

It’s people like that, Jisoo thinks, who will somehow end up in positions of power in the future when their brain cells are likely so fried from the amount of time they spend staring at themselves, they can’t focus on anything else. 

A few blocks down and finally, there are buildings that aren’t blocked off with the same fencing that just destroyed her last “home” if you can call it that. Shops line most of the street, restaurants mostly. The windows filled with decorations and lighting hoping to entice people in on their way home from work or simply enjoying a family outing.

Out of curiosity, Jisoo stops in front of one of them to read through the menu that is stuck to the window. Words she isn’t even capable of reading beneath the food item, describing what goes into the recipe, however, she tries her best to make out what she can from it all.

A couple dining inside and sitting close to the window begin to watch her, or rather judge, having noticed her torn clothing, a dirty appearance, and unkempt hair. She ignores their staring eyes though a big part of her wants to burst through the restaurant door and yell at them for having no manners. Money can bring you everything in the world and yet they still choose to be rude, she thinks.

However, the door ends up opening before her anyway. A tiny bell rings above it to signal that someone has pulled it open and small steps reveal shoes that are clean, an apron covering casual clothing, hair tied in a messy bun that makes for a face that is coated in sweat but clean. 

Whoever this is, they are not one of those snobs she’s grown used to dealing with. There’s no way any of them would allow themselves to be caught dead looking like they’re actually doing a day’s work and not just inputting numbers into a computer repeatedly. 

“Hey, are you coming inside? The special menu is just about to end,” you ask, voice trembling slightly under Jisoo’s intense gaze hovering up and down your frame. “It’s um, on the house, for… you know…” 

She does know. Many places had recently begun to offer warm meals to those who are homeless in the area during certain hours of the day, however, she’d never ventured into any of the places offering it. Pity isn’t exactly an easy thing to deal with, especially when you have the false sense of pride that Jisoo does. Nor does she wish for the actual paying diners to judge her.

“I was just looking but thanks.” 

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other which causes you to notice the holes in her shoes. Despite hoping you’d convinced her to take up the free meal, she starts to shuffle away slowly. With her back turned toward you, your first instinct is to dash inside, grab anything easy to pick up, and hand it to her away from the eyes overseeing this exchange. Without even realizing, your body had already begun to move to do just that.   

Heavy footsteps that seem to be getting faster can be heard behind Jisoo from your feet. She turns around lazily to look over her shoulder to come face to face with a takeout box full to the brim with food as well as two different sets of utensils. 

“You don’t take no for an answer, do you?” Her face is stern yet curious as she speaks. 

“I don’t want you to go hungry is all.” 

“Wow, thanks so much for the concern.” Sarcasm, you think, though you’re sure at this moment if either of you are the condescending one it would be you hoisting the food up into her face. Thus you lower the box toward her hands instead. She reluctantly takes it. 

“I don’t need these.” She offers back the extra set of utensils. Just as your hands grasp around them, she pulls them back toward herself instead which pulls your body along with it. The two of you now inches away from each other until she steps back almost out of instinct. “Sorry, um… would you…” 

Her eyes dart between you and the extra utensils a few times before you finally figure out what it is she’s attempting to ask. 

“Sure, I’ll eat with you.” The gracious smile that presents itself on her face is one of the best things you’ve ever born witness to, however, an idea presents itself in your head and before you can think twice, the words are already blurted out. “But, please, come back to the restaurant. I own the apartment upstairs, you can shower and grab some clean clothes if you want. “

Her features contort into uncertainty, confusion, and suspicion all within a matter of seconds. You assume because she’s either never had such an offer or hasn’t for a long time. It’s easy to forget what basic humanity feels or looks like if you’re not used to receiving it from people. To your surprise, she does turn around and even manages to open the door and step inside for herself this time without hesitation. 

The same couple who were sat by the window is now at the counter to pay for their meal, heads low as she passes by them to sit at a table toward the back of the restaurant. You join her, sitting in the seat opposite her own. She places the tray of food between you both and immediately begins to engulf it. You simply pick at the sides and allow her to take in as much as possible. She doesn’t notice, though, you’re glad her only focus is on lining her stomach. 

“My name is Y/N.” you interrupt her mid forkful of vegetables. She simply nods in response until she’s finished chewing. 

“Jisoo.” she bluntly offers. 

“It’s nice to meet you Jisoo.” 

No other words are exchanged between you both. She continues to eat until her stomach can’t possibly handle it anymore. You watch as she simply looks around the entire room, noticing every little detail to the walls and paying close attention to the old television in the corner of the room. Her eyes are dark and lifeless as they try to follow along with the characters acting out a scene in the drama playing. 

One of the servers grabs ahold of the apron you pull off from around your waist and places it behind the counter as you stand abruptly blocking Jisoo’s view of the screen. She shifts her body to look around you and back to the television but then up to meet your eyes once she realizes you aren’t moving.

“Come on, I’ll show you where the shower is.” 

You point her toward a door behind the counter and she reluctantly stands to join you, though not before she takes one last glance toward the television to see the characters involved in what looks like a heated argument. 

The two of you head up the flight of stairs above the restaurant to the quaint apartment that doesn’t look as if it has been touched for quite some time now. Once more, Jisoo’s eyes pay attention to all of her surroundings, not that there’s anything on these walls nor is there a television playing. Instead, she runs her hand along with the wallpaper that is barely clinging to the walls. Her fingers tracing the outlines of the floral design. 

A small cough is all you let out to break her concentration to direct her to another door.

“Come on, there should be some spare clothes in here for when you’re done.” However, she remains still. “It’s just here.”

You can sense the nervousness radiating from her despite the distance between you both as she stands at one end of the hallway and you at the other. Her fingers removed from the wall now so that her other hand can fiddle with them idly. 

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice quiet, almost inaudible. 

The question perplexes you at first, why wouldn’t anyone wish to help her? How could someone see a young woman in such a dire state and simply ignore her? However, not everyone shares these thoughts, nor would everyone invite a total stranger in to use their shower after only meeting them seconds ago. 

“Call it my good deed for today, whatever helps you accept it.” She nods and slowly begins to walk toward you. 

The two of you spend several minutes hunting through the drawers and wardrobe for clothes that not only fit Jisoo but will keep her warm. She settles on a black hoody that you don’t recall ever seeing previously, a white fitted t-shirt, and some old jeans that are long worn out. You offer her an old scarf and coat, however, she refuses to give up her own torn one. She spends a few seconds simply feeling the fabric between her finger and thumb before placing her new items under her arm and leaving the room without a word. 

Following her, you find her standing awkwardly in the hallway once more, frozen in place. 

“The bathroom is this way.” She strides beside you but quickly dashes in front of you and into the bathroom before you can even tell her how to use the shower. Instead, you’re forced to shout it from behind the door she also locks. “There should be a switch on the side of the wall here, I’m going to  turn it on but be careful, the water will be cold at first.” 

Flicking the switch, you can hear the water begin to run out of the showerhead and hit the bottom of the bath. Deciding that it’s probably strange to stand outside the door as she washes up, you head back toward the bedroom the two of you were both previously in. It’s been a long time since you’ve stepped foot in here, and yet, floods of memories hit the second you’re alone in there. 

Moving out on your own, opening up the restaurant with her, it all feels like a made-up fallacy. Especially since she’s no longer here to live it out with you, instead finding her own dream to live out, alone. However, it had all been worth it in the end. A small picture of her and you sit coated in dust atop one of the side tables, the corners slightly curled and beginning to tatter but your smiles ever-present. A lifetime ago now, or so you’d like to delude yourself into believing. 

It’s strange how despite having not thought about her, or anything to do with her for the last two years, you can still remember the very day in which the photo was taken as if it was yesterday. 

“Who is she?” The words startle you out of your thoughts so much so that you throw the picture frame in the direction of the voice, just barely missing Jisoo’s head, hitting the wall behind her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“It’s fine, I just didn’t think you’d be done so quick.” You try to catch your breath as you watch her dry her hair in her clean clothes. 

“It’s been like an hour.” She points toward the clock on the wall in the hallway. It has indeed been an hour of you simply reminiscing and staring at one of the biggest mistakes you ever made.  “Do you have a dryer?” 

“Yeah, um… It’s in the other room, come on.” You brush past her, quickly picking up the now smashed picture frame as well as the fragments that had bounced across the floor and place it into one of the drawers in your own bedroom whilst retrieving the hairdryer for Jisoo. 

She quickly finds a socket to plug it into and begins to brush through her still wet hair. 

“Do you,” She pauses. “Do you mind doing it for me? It’s been a long time since I’ve used one of these.” 

“Sure.” 

Handing you the dryer, she sits down on your bed making herself comfortable and then closes her eyes. You maneuver to a kneeling position behind her and begin to dry her hair for her. From this angle, you can see that her scalp is severely damaged and hair is still matted in places where she’s been unable to brush through it. However, you can see that it would be painful to attempt to get rid of the knots and decide not to take the brush from her also. 

It only takes a few moments before the strands of her hair are all flowing as dry and clean as they can be.  She remains seated even after you’ve unplugged the dryer, face straight and eyes still without a sign of life. Once she does stand, she simply grabs her things and heads out of the apartment entirely. You try to race after her, almost tumbling down the stairs more than once. 

Almost colliding with her body stood completely still in the middle of the restaurant floor, attention once again on the television which is now showing the latest music video from a male singer you can’t recall the name of. Disappointment etched on her features, likely because she missed out on seeing what happened with the drama she had become interested in after only a matter of seconds. 

“They replay it quite often you know, you could always come back to eat and watch it.” You whisper, not wishing to startle her as she had done you. 

“Thank you.” She flatly says. “But, I’m good. I have to get going now.” 

Before you can protest and offer her some more food to take with her, she’s out of the door with a flash, quickly looking over her shoulder and toward you through the window to give a small nod of appreciation. 

[thecollinhartman-blog]

Collin’s Coronavirus Thoughts

Corona Diaries

 I know what you are thinking. It is Day 4 of the Quarantine and Social Distancing and Collin has gone so crazy without all the busy-ness of life that he is writing a blog post. And you would be absolutely correct. Like every other millennial twenty-something, I have a lot of really great ideas that haven’t quite come to fruition. By now I thought I would be operating a volleyball facility, or traveling the US in a VW van driving for Uber, or pursuing a PhD program in England while playing volleyball, or coaching a small college team in Southern California.

All this to say I’m a big-time dreamer and a mostly incredibly poor “executer”. I often mistake my busy-ness for full-ness. I have seven unread books on my night stand, I haven’t been grocery shopping in weeks, I never got around to painting the trim in the bathroom my dad and I remodeled, my phone hasn’t been at full charge since November, and there has been an overflow of recycling sitting outside my house from the garbage disposal and mattress I got for Christmas… and now it’s March. Welcome to it, friends.

 Let’s start here: I stopped by my parents’ house this week to print something – which I often do because I have a lot of printing needs but haven’t ever purchased a printer. It’s nice because I can print some papers I need AND I can always count on cool ranch Doritos and a Mango Orange Crystal Lite…. that I’ll likely take one sip of, leave on the counter, and finish when I’m there 4 days later.

 Anyway, here I am printing in my dad’s office and running late for a meeting  (all because I napped for too long). I rush out the door of the house, accidentally leaving one document on the printer, pens and paper everywhere, and a cupboard desk drawer open. A few minutes later, my dad sends me a picture of his office, which was without a doubt entirely put together five minutes prior to me being there. The tone of his text is sarcastic but loving but semi-annoyed which I can handle. I spend six seconds feeling bad about my reckless and disorganized self until Hillsong’s Highlands comes on the radio and I turn it up. I don’t spend time reflecting on things that would make me sad, I’m a 7.

 In the midst of my frantic printing and meeting prep, my dad told me he was going to call me “F-5”as my new nickname. By the look on my face, he could tell I was confused as to why. He begins to tell me that tornados are classified in F-0 through F-5 categories, with an F-5 tornado being the wildest in nature. My quick google search defines an F-5 tornado as the most “violent damage, homes lifted off foundation and carried considerable distances, autos thrown as far as 100 meters.” I think what my dad was trying to say is that my general way of life is to rampage my way through different spaces, groups, situations… often times in an assertive, proactive, somewhat wild, chaotic way and then just… leave (I think this how I drive too). Stop go stop go stop go. I go from this thing right on to the next without pause. I show up, jump out of my car, race to wherever I’m supposed to go, be (mostly) present there until BOOM, it’s a Monday evening and I’m in the Eagle gym, shutting off all the lights, gathering volleyballs, turning on the alarm, leaving for Young Life – all in an attempt to get there three minutes before it starts so I can prep items for the game I’m leading ALLLLL before being interrupted in the parking lot by a mom of a U11 kid who is reminding me (probably for the 3rd time) about the t-shirt they ordered and are waiting on. Following? Me neither.

 In short – my life actually is like an F-5 tornado. I run run run from one thing to the next, filling my world to the brim with as much as I possibly can all until I arrive back at my house at 10:30 pm, gas light on, eat whatever I can find in the fridge before my head hits the pillow 4 minutes later, only to set my alarm and do it again.

 I’ve been living my life like this for a really long time until…. well until Sunday when we got the news that school is cancelled, which means volleyball activities are all cancelled too, and Young Life gatherings paused and suddenly my wild Monday is WIDE OPEN.

 This blog post / journal / diary is my attempt to articulate from my squirrel brain some things I’ve learned about myself in the last 48 hours since this craziness called coronavirus officially stopped my (and probably your) collective world right in their F-5 tornado tracks.

 First, let me tell you about my day today paint a picture of how my world feels just a bit (LITERALLY ENTIRELY) different…..

 1)    I didn’t set an alarm and I woke up at 8:30 am.

2)    Shortly after, I went on a quick walk to the nearest coffee shop and ordered a Misto: I am on my journey to black coffee and I just graduated from a latte to this half coffee half milk concoction (with caramel) and I feel accomplished.

3)    I stopped by my neighbor friend’s house to say hello.

4)    I got home, cleaned a couple things around the house, washed a couple plates in my sink, and went on a bike ride to downtown Boise where I enjoyed a takeout lunch from Whole Foods. I would like to tell you that I rode my bike home, but a friend happened to see me and my girlfriend (she is working remotely from Utah and visiting right now) saw us and somehow realized the journey completely uphill from downtown to my house on the bench might not be all that fun so we piled our bikes in her car and she took us home.

5)    I took a 20 minute snoozer.

6)    I got up and did some yard work outside, gathering pine needles from underneath my big backyard tree and finally broke down those big boxes that have been sitting outside my house for months and was able to fit them all inside my recycling can.

7)    It started to drizzle so I came inside, crawled under a big blanket and read the first couple chapters of Prodigal God by Timothy Keller.

8)    Kinslie and I then stopped by the store to pick up some things for dinner and I grilled some steaks and shared a giant salad and some grilled asparagus.

9)    After a few girl scout cookies (they stopped by yesterday), we watched the last half of Ellen’s Game of Games and picked a movie on Netflix.

10) Now I’m lying in my (perfectly made) bed (because I had the time to make it) writing all my thoughts down in a word document wondering if I’ll actually post this or if there is really anything of worth that I’m typing. I think there is but not sure yet.

 Well, friends of the interwebs, you might be wondering why you just read a detailed list of my day from start to finish. Here’s what I want you to know.

 1)    Upon arriving at the coffee shop, I had a cheerful silly conversation with the barista about what drink I should order as we laughed about me wanting to eventually enjoy drip coffee. We engaged in authentic dialogue for a few minutes and on the way out I thanked her for the drink recommendation.

2)    Before leaving for our bike ride, my tires were flat so we walked them to the gas station and filled up with six quarters before we went on our merry way. I empathized with the Chevron employee as we talked about coronavirus and how it might impact our lives. I wished him well and went on my way.

3)    While bikeriding downtown I noticed there are five…. FIVE… different types of massage or spa places between my house and Curtis, which is the next main stop light.

4)    At Whole Foods, I asked the clerk their favorite pasta salad as she walked over and told me all about the 2 for $6 deal. I noticed the different textures of the floor and the neatly stacked chairs and how the vegetables were perfectly arranged in their place.

5)    While doing yardwork, I stopped and looked at Kinslie as she was raking leaves into a pile. I went over and looked, I mean REALLY LOOKED into her eyes and noticed how the Irish green edges melt into a light sky-ish blue before meeting her pupil. I noticed the way she parted her wavy blonde hair and the way it fell just barely over the sweatshirt she was borrowing of mine.  I noticed how thankful I was I had someone to share this day with and even more thankful for her idea to do this yardwork that surely wouldn’t have been started for maybe forever.

6)    While reading, I noticed the way the soft sunshine pressed through my semi-open blinds onto my page and made the black ink pop off the page. I contemplated Keller’s words of Pharisees and tax collectors and a story of two sons on their journey of deeper understanding of God’s steadfast love and grace in the midst of their own struggles.

7)    While making dinner I couldn’t help but take just a little extra time to delicately cut each cucumber and carrot slice with care as I heard sounds of clattering branches from my cracked window as dusk began to settle in.

8)    And while writing this blog post, I can’t help but notice all the things I noticed in my own world for perhaps the first time.

 While I can’t be sure what life will look like in a few short days, weeks, or even months, and while I’m not positive what my income will be, and what daily routines or rituals will be impacted, or how our schools and communities will be changed – I can be sure of this: I hope in the midst of my crazy F-5 tornado life that surely will be back in busy routine before I know it – I hope for a couple things.

 I hope I can continue notice the little things. To notice the wildly interconnected, perfectly-timed, awe strikingly beautiful, crazy detailed, little details of this world like the way I noticed the lines on the fresh steaks as I pulled them off my garage sale grill.  

 I hope to breathe deep and see, I mean REALLY see the world around me, to engage in relationship in more authentic and honest ways, to stop for a moment wherever I am to truly connect with the people around me.

  I hope to take my time through a home cooked meal, and to not be so filled with anxiousness and fear of the future and unknown that I my eyes are blinded to see the way God is working in and through my (and our) world, possibly even through something like the freaking COVID-19.

 While I’m sure there will be more lessons to be learned in the next little while, I challenge you to take a couple moments to really press in and reflect upon the way this Zombie apocalyptic ish tirade is impacting your world. I truly hope in the midst of empty toilet paper shelves and hand sanitizer hoarders there is something beautiful in your world that you’ve noticed, too.

[toddlazarski]

Last Suppers Vol. 3

Shepherd Express

“I see that the world is upside down,

seems that my pockets were filled up with gold.”

— Tom Waits

My grandmother never allowed pizza delivery. Pizza—yes, most definitely, frequently, likely for a medically inadvisable percentage of grandma-house meals, but only if you took her keys, locked the door behind you, drove the Malibu—tape deck stacked with “Electric Ladyland,” for just such necessary excursions—across town and schlepped the steaming box back yourself, again locking the door behind you. I’m not sure if it was an abject fear of delivery personnel, something nefarious laying in an unknown driver lurking, even if said lurking was only out of pepperoni remittance and tip hope. Maybe it was the tip itself, an avoidance of sorts. Or it could have been the disclosing of her address. Maybe she was in trouble with the law. Maybe all, or a combination, or something else, all rolled together into one of those nebulous anxiety yarn balls one comes to know and generally acknowledge and accept when hungry and negotiating with a late-80’s grandmother. So I’d never really ask, would shrug with mild annoyance, take the keys, and let her pay with a crisp twenty-dollar-bill, because in hindsight, I’m not nearly as thoughtful as I’d like to believe. 

Similarly, this is probably how I don’t know much, anything really, about the Great Depression. Grandma was born in 1925, which, according to Wikipedia, means she spent much of her childhood in said epoch of forlorn-toned black-and-white photos of destitute pea pickers in California. She would have been a good source, I suppose, for all the wonder I’ve put on, of late, the d-word, in both proper noun form and the more loose, casual way it’s been thrown about. “I think he’s depressed” has become a standard line. Friends talking about other friends, co-workers talking about spouses, somebody talking about me, maybe. But over the past eight weeks I’ve heard it at least a handful of times, accepted it, took it with brow-furrowed, middling resiliency, as if it were part of a bad but expected forecast. As if, yes, “might have to shovel tomorrow.” Or like a thing meant for small-talk chewing and grumbling, as in, “I’m not sure about that first round pick.” When Kai Ryssdal comes floating in on the kitchen radio I switch the channel before the capital form of the word comes up. I usually have to hurry.    

I should have asked her, I suppose, in hindsight, it being one of those many things we all only now realize we should have always asked, said, paid attention to, thought about, considered. Before the world turned sideways, began coughing, lost sense of taste and smell, and we all woke up with our furniture seemingly turned to face the wall. Before she died. It might have been especially helpful since of late I’ve found the same pizza delivery paranoia creeping in. Though of all the faults I blame on genetics, this is hardly one—it can’t be Adult Onset Delivery Dread, it came far too fast. And I still don’t understand it fully: do I fear the boxes, or the bringer? Or do I fear the bringer's perception of me, sitting in my ivory tower, looking down on the help, or not looking at all, just expecting them to, yes, drop the sustenance on my luxuriant, sanitary doorstep? And then be gone, faceless servant. Or is it maybe that I don’t want to infect them? Did he or she think of that? Should I go out and tell them? Or maybe just put up a sign on the closed door: It’s Not You, It’s Me. Should I try at some levity, one of these days, maybe attempt a recreation of the “keep the change you filthy animal” scene from “Home Alone”? But, of course, nobody takes cash anymore, so it wouldn’t work.   

Whatever the approach, the newfound anxiety has been robbing a righteous, innocent joy of late. The sweet echo of a doorbell, startling, even as you sit with perked ear and open Ring app, leaning a bit with anticipation. It might be right now, this second, or in 35 minutes. Or, what if they never show? You make the call and are transported to Dr. Seuss’ Waiting Place. Patience and perspective needing to be fought for amidst the mad sea of slack-jawed seekers. A 90’s Civic with bad brakes and problematic bumper stickers, a goateed driver with questionable politics often the only thing to bring you back to the moment, offering deliverance, unveiling the places you will go, the tastes you will have, the boom bands you will hear and the balloon-high heights you will see. “Should you turn left or right, or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite?” At this point of rescue, like no other in life, it matters only that you know how to find your way to the door, can manage not to trip carrying a box back to the coffee table. 

Whether or not grandma was right, or had a reason, or had an outstanding warrant, and whether or not we’ll all get over our cardboard fear and food conveyance dread and Clorox addiction and the balance of common sense versus Medium articles versus FDA guidelines versus something somebody in the office Slack channel said, it still has to be done. And at the very least she was right, like all grandmas seem right, about the most important thing being the bringing of comfort. Or the going and getting of comfort. So, my car or there’s, these are the best current bets for said pizza procuring solace. 

5. Ned’s

Through the years, through my decade-and-a-half of Milwaukee life, through an adulthood of being judge and jury and general jerk about pizza, I’ve never really cared much for Ned’s, or the “Milwaukee-style” pie it so well seems to epitomize. I’ve always found the crust too thin, crackly, unfilling, the special’s seem over-topped, the entire thing often feels a bit under-cooked, the cheese a tad too slidey, the sauce slightly over sweet. Quarantine week two though was weekend-ed with my wife and her friends sharing Ned’s, collectively, each with their own pie, over a happy hour Zoom meeting. It was such an innovative act of community, togetherness, pizzaing, that I was softened toward epiphany. And then later, as I greedily, guiltily, drunkenly mawed microwaved leftover squares after she had gone to bed, I finally disabused myself of all lofty notions as if I were a Dickens character. Ned’s is old-school, since ‘69, simple comfort of hometown iconicism. The pizza itself too has an undeniable tang, a distinct crumbly soul, a sausage-y quotidian satisfaction level akin to a High Life bottle and the Brewers on a daytime bar corner TV. At a time the Brewers are good. Most importantly: it is the pizza of my wife’s youth. There are few things tastier than nostalgia, and nothing more comforting. And so Ned’s always has a place in the heart, in our home, in our refrigerator, especially when she orders too much and goes to bed too early.   

4. Rosati’s

The five years I spent in suburban Chicago, coming of age and hitting my pizza peak, happened to coincide with adolescence and the accompanying boundless, obscene appetites. A standard chicken or egg scenario. This is maybe why I keep coming to defend Rosati’s, our locally-owned franchise location’s sometime inconsistency, and why I keep going back, here, and to all Chicago-bred ilk. There is the personal sway of the one that got away, the one that taught me to be a man, of the person you’d go out of town to a 10-year-reunion just to get a glimpse of and awkward drink with. But there is also no objective argument to the fact Rosati’s aspires to, and often achieves, the ideal of Chicago tavern-style: rolled dough, thin, square cut wedges of well-cooked crunch, trademarked by a cornmeal dust bottom and oregano and fennel-y finish. The cheese often looks like the color of approaching-autumn, the crust like it was two minutes from being burnt. Equally crispy and chewy, the toppings are half-buried under a winter blanket of mozz like endless hidden prizes. But maybe it’s just personal. And really a takeout here is akin to reliving high school’s zenith. If I really want to go down that Springsteen route, like the part in the song where he sees his ol’ baseball playing bud, and they go back in and have a few drinks, I get a pie and an Italian beef. Glory Days.    

3. Transfer

Of the 30 or so times I’ve eaten at Transfer, I’d say 29 of them I’ve eschewed all normal pies, disregarded all pasta or apps, ignored the menu or anything the waiter was saying or what anyone else at the table might want, really, in tunnel-vision favor of the simply named, boldly furnished Garlic Lovers. It is a special of aromatic, crushed bulb bombardment, almost stunt-like in essence, that somehow holds together. Sturdy enough to steer with one hand, the pleasantly dusty and charred bottom still has a doughy, Southern Italian-leaning chewiness. The decadent top is garlic sauce svelty, with pepperoni and sausage and cheese chunkily clattering together, as delightful black air bubbles adorn the edges, indicating artisanal-ness, craft pizza lineage, a really hot oven. But you don’t need to read too deep, or too far past the pizza’s name—overall this is an oily, pungent affront to subtlety and fresh breath. But garlic, they say—-and what are we but the collection of what they’s we believe?—is a natural antimicrobial agent. And we’re all six feet apart anyways. Actually, after four slices, I’m wondering if Fauci and the lot of health-advising acronyms are really right: is six enough?  

2. Tenuta’s

A recent takeout phone call to Tenuta’s, where I ordered my usual—Diavola, no pineapple—was met with this:

“You can’t do that, the pineapple makes the diavola.” 

“Oh. I, uh, disagree.”

“You know what, let’s not do this right now.”

Tenuta’s is that kind of place. The shaded Clement Ave brick corner spot of pasta and pizza and cozy classiness and classy coziness is the type of place Tony might take a goomah one night and Carmela the next. Tenuta’s To Go continues the tradition from a Howard Avenue counter-only outpost, more conducive to our house-car-back-to-bottle-of-sanitizer cycle of now. But from either there is a standard gamut of specials and absurd glut of crust offerings: thin, virgin, deep, stuffed, some house pies come in triangles, some in imperfect squares. It’s like one of those Strengths Finder personality tests of endless combinations new employers make you take to find out precisely which type of pot-stirrer you will become. I always default to a pepperoni and giardiniera and cream cheese thin, a square-cut beaut, indicating the recessive gassy guy-from-Chicago trait. Balanced, zesty, spicy, creamy, it is everything I hope for on the precious, too few pizza nights of existence. But there are similar satisfaction points up and down the board: the basil-y freshness of a margherita, an olive oil sauce holding ham and pepperoni and garlic on the house special, a mis-order even found me enjoying the pleasant carb overload of a “virgin” crust, redolent of pan pizza or something from Detroit. You’d think they might specialize, defer somehow to the simpler ways of the old country. It’s almost too much, like life—the options, the anxieties, the distractions, the food narcotics necessary for real world-dimming, dulling. But you settle in, eventually, you know your order, come to know yourself and the shape of your DIY haircut-framed mug in the mirror, the spirit within said order. And, soon, with time and gut-work, then you know the voice on the other end of the line, and, even in quarantine, the gravy of a Sunday gathering can be part and parcel and pepperoni with a little good natured jabbing, some convivial ball-busting that hides, that hints at, care and love.    

1. Fixture

Even if you believe, rightly, that there are no guilty pleasures in life, there can still often be times of feeling like you are cheating a bit, calorically. Like, say, when enjoying Taco Bell sober, or scarfing Totino’s pizza rolls well into your 30’s, or driving through a Wendy’s and eating in your car, by yourself, removed from any identifiable meal time, just doing it because dammit and because you can. Sometimes you might know that notion, back behind the base lizard brain, of just feeling bad about existing as a stereotypical fat American. Ordering cream cheese—so rich, so creamy—atop a well made pizza feels this way, and yet, the “Great Lakes Distillery”—extra sauce, pepperoni, cream cheese wedges—keeps calling me back. Or at least keeps picking up when I call. 

And there they are: creamy black-speckled corpuscles of gooey cheese comfort, squishing softly, almost a bit curdy, marshmallow-y, stretching, existing in that perfect cheese nirvana state of half-melt. They are model contrasts to the salty oven char on the liberal toss of near-burnt pepperoni. Beneath a vibrant, herbaceous marinara mixes with well-ratioed mozz, the kind of top where you can’t fully tell if the sauce or cheese were put on first, as they gel together, taking turns, like pass-first teammates that make deep championship runs, that reign supreme on a top-five pizza list. The crust seemingly has an application of anti-flop finish, good hold that is toothy and strong without getting in the way. So it’s a bit Chicago, afterall, and also a bit that they just seem to use higher quality ingredients than so many old school joints, the places phoning it in, doing it the way it’s always been done, forgetting what we all too prominently remember now: that tomorrow is no guarantee. But they are also big on the homemade hot honey siding offer, a move straight out of Greenpoint, or whatever is the new Greenpoint, Brooklyn. Honey should have no place on pizza. Or so I think, for ⅞’s of every first piece. But, actually, wait another bite—sure it does. Let’s all not think about it right now. It is honey, it has creeping zing finish, and that different flavor profile quality that makes life and another endless day of dread, a day no different than yesterday, worth it. So, for now, anyways, let’s dip our crusts bits endlessly until we’re beyond stuffed. 

When they throw open the French takeout windows, even despite the masks, despite the fact my paranoia makes me insist on paying ahead of time over the phone to limit contact, despite the fact that this makes me need to call back and get their Venmo so I can send more money to fix my non-existent tip, Fixture’s pickup window really has been a lifeline of sorts since mid-March. Whether it’s the pizza or the wings or the chicken parm sandwich, it’s a satisfying reminder that there is some delicious humanity still pulsing on quiet 2nd Street. On all of our graveyard-quiet streets. And next week, maybe, for sure, pizza delivery, like normal, can return to our house. “Be brave,” all the books I read to my daughter seem to teach, implicitly or otherwise, they echo back at me in the sound of my own voice. And one day we will. Or else, we won’t. And maybe, years from now, when she’s old enough to grown-up talk and have thoughts and observations and real life queries, when she’s old enough for these loathsome days to be the old days, she’ll ask why we always have to go pick up the pizza. And I’ll just gaze distantly out the window like grandma might have, had I wondered, or like a character in a Tom Waits or John Prine song. Or, better, she won’t ask, will just chalk it up to the personality scars of an old, damaged man, and then we’ll be able to focus only on the pizza.