Epilogue 2
EPILOGUE 2
Two years later…
Hume
I used to get my blood pumping during combat missions, or being set on fire for scenes in blockbuster action movies, or coordinating helicopter hoist operations on the search and rescue team.
Not anymore.
These days, as I approach the big five-five, I get my thrills in other ways.
Better ways.
I'm hiding behind the couch, waiting expectantly to see who'll uncover me first—Corbin or Sammy. Corbin is close to taking his first proper steps, but his twin sister Sammy has super sharp instincts, so my money's on her.
A high-pitched squeal proves me right as my darling daughter crawls along the carpeted floor to me, babbling away happily. I swear she's on the cusp of saying "Daddy" any day now.
Tenley, her folks, and I have a bet going to see who will speak first and what word it'll be. I've got a hundred bucks riding on Corbin saying "Mama" before Sammy says "Daddy."
Corbin toddles over, and I pick him up. "What have you got there, buddy?" I ask, scooping up a deflated balloon he was just about to put in his mouth.
Their first birthday party has just wrapped up. Tenley is outside, waving her family off, while I'm with the kids. I was supposed to make a start on cleaning up—who knew a bunch of babies could make this much of a mess?—but I got sidetracked and wanted to have some fun with them.
Can you blame me?
I'm married to an incredible woman, who I share two beautiful children with, and, for the most part, I'm healthy. My hearing hasn't deteriorated these past two years, and my pain episodes occur less frequently and with less severity. So of course I'm going to relish every single minute I can with the three most precious people in the world.
Never in a million years did I think I'd be in this position, and not a day goes by when I don't remind myself how lucky I am. I came so close to not having anything like this at all.
"Well, they're gone," Tenley says, walking in and immediately flopping onto the couch. "And I am pooped." She glances around the room. "How's the clean up going?"
"It's been delayed," I inform her, scooping Corbin under my left arm, Sammy under my right, and joining Tenley on the couch. "It's their fault. We have the two most beautiful kids in the world." She eyes me, unimpressed."They take after their mother, clearly."
"Clearly." Her lips tug upward ever so slightly as she plonks Sammy onto her lap. "And this little one gets all her charm from her Daddy. Just promise me you'll use it for good and not evil, kid." She leans down and presses a gentle kiss to Sammy’s forehead.
"I'll have you know, I only use my charm for good these days, thank you very much."
"That's very true," she concedes, before turning to face me. "Did you enjoy the party? It wasn't too loud?"
Avoiding loud noises is something I have to be mindful of, but Tenley instructed the DJ to keep the volume at background noise level.
"No. It was fine. Did your folks enjoy themselves?"
"They did. Especially Dad. He loved the Star Wars theme."
"Did you tell him it was my idea?"
"Yes." She lets out a groan. "About a hundred times."
"Good. Thank you."
So I may have pestered her about this a teeny bit before the party. Her family has been great and really welcoming for the most part. Well, her youngest sister, Beth, was a tough nut to crack, but apparently, that's a well-known thing. Tenley's parents are wonderful, but I always sensed a slight hesitation from her father. Makes sense. I'm closer to his age than I am to Tenley's. So whatever I need to do to get into—and stay—in that man's good books, I'm doing.
"You wanna take a shower?" I suggest. It's been a long day, and she does look tired.
"That'd be great. You okay here?"
"I'm fine. I am totally acing hide and seek."
She giggles, even though she looks like she didn't mean to. "I was talking about the cleaning up."
"That's totally under control, sweetheart."
A faint blush coats her cheeks. And to think, she used to hate me calling her that. Now she loves it.
She holds my gaze for a moment, and I can feel her love for me. It's almost as strong as my love for her.
"Good. Because Chewy is dying to get inside." She points to the sliding door, and to a very ready-to-be-inside Chewy. She couldn't be inside with all the scrunched up wrapping paper. She'd have a field day, but it wouldn't be good for her digestive system.
"I'm on it," I say, placing Corbin and Sammy carefully on the ground and find the heavy-duty garbage bag I tossed by the coffee table in favor of an impromptu game of hide and seek.
"I'll be quick," Tenley says, giving me a peck on the cheek.
"You know what, take a bath and unwind. You deserve a break. I've got this."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I'll get the living room Chewy-friendly, then I'll order some takeout. How does that sound?"
She slides her hand up my chest, setting off a volcano in me that will only be quenched much later tonight.
"That sounds divine. Thank you."
Once she leaves, I set about restoring the living room as quickly as I can, keeping one eye on the kids as I weave in and out of the mess, scooping up crumpled wrapping paper scattered everywhere, wiping cake frosting off the table, the high chairs, and somehow the wall as well, vacuuming the floor, and tossing all the kids stuffed animals and plastic blocks into their toy bins.
Glancing over at Corbin and Sammy playing with each other, it hits me that I'm the happiest I've ever been in my life. But I also recognize the immense responsibility that comes with fatherhood.
At the moment, it's all about feedings and diaper changes and sleep routines. But as they get older, there's going to be one extra important lesson I plan on imparting to each of them.
With Corbin, I'm going to teach him the right way to treat people, especially women. He'll learn that it's never okay to lash out, raise a hand, or even threaten to do anything that makes a woman feel anything other than completely safe in his company,
And with Sammy, I want her to know her own power and worth, and that any man who doesn't respect her, isn't worth her time.
My mother grew up in a broken home and went on to marry an abusive man. I want that horrible cycle to end with me.
And I'm going to teach my kids, not with words, because on their own, words don't teach. Actions do. Behaviors do. My children will grow up in a house where everyone feels safe and is treated with respect and kindness and love.
So much love.
Tenley walks in, drying off her hair. She freezes, mouth wide open. "I can see the floor again."
"That's because I'm that good." I scoop up the two full garbage bags and leave them by the front door. "I was just about to order some food. What do you feel like?"
She walks over to the sliding door and Chewy comes bouncing in, making a beeline for her new favorite person, Sammy. She giggles as she reaches for his wagging tail, and Chewy sits perfectly still, letting her tiny fingers explore without pulling away.
"Thai?" Tenley answers.
"Sounds good. I'll give them a call."
After ordering the food, we take the kids into the bathroom where it descends into our regular nightly chaos. Sammy has recently discovered the joys of splashing, and my shirt is thoroughly soaked through as it is every night, while Corbin has grabbed the soap bottle and is squeezing bubbles everywhere. Tenley tries to wrangle the bottle from him while I watch the two of them in my drenched T-shirt and laugh.
There really is nothing better than this.
All my life, I've had a death wish.
Now?
Now I have a life wish.
I have three incredible reasons to live, and I want to be the best man I can be for my wife and kids.
This (former) wild man is perfectly happy being tamed.
THE END