Epilogue 2 Cal
Two Years Later
“That’s the last of it.”
My announcement draws the attention of Selene and Isis. They’re in the middle of the bedroom I’ve just officially finished moving Isis into, hands on their hips as they survey the set up and discuss what she wants changed.
I can’t know for sure, but I’m certain Imani had Beck doing the same thing in her room earlier. We worked hard to make sure their individual bedrooms met the girls’ standards and fit their personalities, but they’re teenagers, so things are always subject to change.
“Thanks, Cal,” Isis says, leaving Selene to step over the stack of boxes between us and give me a hug.
The simple show of affection warms my heart.
Selene beams at us, and I know we’re both thinking about the many embraces we’ve shared with Isis and Imani that marked the end of our time together.
For years, hugs meant goodbye, but now that Selene has officially adopted them, hugs are exactly what they’re supposed to be.
Tender squeezes that end when you want them to.
This one is quick, ending when Beck shouts that the pizza has arrived.
“Thank God!” Isis shouts, stepping out of my hold and rushing out of the room.
“Don’t run down those stairs,” Selene yells when the hall is suddenly filled with the sounds of racing footsteps and the girls arguing about who is going to get the first slice of pepperoni.
They don’t slow down at all. By the time Selene and I make it downstairs, the boxes are open and they’re dancing around with triangles of melted cheese, meat and bread in hand.
“I tried to get them to wait for plates,” Beck says, shaking his head.
“We were hungry!” Imani defends.
Isis pulls a pepperoni from the slice and pops it in her mouth. “Yeah, moving is hard work.”
“Neither of you did anything,” Selene points out as she takes a stack of plates from Beck and sits it by the pizza boxes. “I don’t think I saw you lift a single box between the two of you.”
While she’s chastising them, I hand the girls plates and Beck sets about fixing drinks. I smile to myself, loving that we’ve already established a rhythm even though this is our first official night together as a family.
Imani’s brows furrow. “What’s the point of having two dads if we have to carry boxes?”
Questions like this activate this instinct in Beck, Selene and me.
This impulse to pause and reiterate, to dissect and decode, to flat out ask Imani if she truly considers us her dads.
Both she and Isis call us by our names, which has always been fine, but being referred to in that way, even indirectly, is significant and extremely meaningful.
We can’t make a big deal of it, though, or else we risk making her feel weird or self-conscious about it. That’s the last thing any of us want to do, so we share a brief look, just to acknowledge what the comment means to us and then move on.
“Damn, she’s got a point,” Beck says, sliding drinks across the island to each of us.
The wedding band on his finger catches the light, and, on instinct, I rub the pad of my thumb across mine.
It’s been a little over a year since we took vows, legally binding ourselves to each other with Selene as our officiant and all the people we love, including our soon to be daughters, in the audience.
Conversation flows around me. Selene and Beck go back and forth with Imani and Isis about the amount of calories you burn supervising work you didn’t perform, while I lose myself in the sweet chaos of the family I created and the beauty of a moment I will never have to leave.