EPILOGUE Mike
Ten Years Later. Again.
The noise from a lawn mower woke me from a fitful sleep.
I’d tossed and turned all night, having the oddest dream.
There was no need to feel the other side of the bed before I opened my eyes because I knew who was mowing our lawn this early in the morning.
I just hoped the new neighbors didn’t complain.
The bedroom was dim since Cooper hadn’t opened the blinds like he usually did to annoy me on weekends.
I scrunched up our pillows, his familiar smell invading my senses, before I propped myself up to admire our recent handiwork.
The bedroom remodel looked amazing. Gone was Mom’s gaudy wall paper print of huge green banana leaves, with the matching valance over the window.
We’d replaced it with sensible beige paint to match the overall contemporary look of the remodeled house. Mom would’ve hated the monotone design.
I ran my hands over my abs, admiring what the new home gym had allowed me to accomplish over the summer. Summer meant no school for me. I missed the kids I taught, but I loved being at home with my garden and Mom’s goddamned marigolds.
I hadn’t been able to stop planting the stinky flowers each spring because I knew Mom had been obsessed with their beauty and the mystical powers she swore they possessed.
Marigolds were commonly offered as sacrifices to the gods in many religions and embodied the power of resurrection.
Mom was big on resurrection, swearing I’d know one day if we ever crossed paths again.
I never understood her affinity for the flower, but I liked having them near me nowadays.
Like my mother, I began to see them as the connection between life and death.
I found comfort in having them around the home I’d lived in my entire life.
The mower cut off and three minutes later the bedroom door burst open. “Darn,” Coop huffed. “I wanted to wake you up.”
“You did, you goofball,” I corrected, gesturing toward the front yard. “Your frikkin mower had the pleasure.”
Cooper stood shirtless in the doorway, looking better than a thirty year old should ever look.
He was ripped and almost as big and muscular as I was, except his height.
I had him there by three inches. We both had changed our hairstyle from floppy blond bangs, and over-the-ear styles, to neatly trimmed haircuts that fit our status as new thirty somethings.
“I love when our birthdays fall on a Sunday,” he stated, walking to the window and pulling the blinds up. “And look outside,” he suggested. “Absolutely stunning, don’t ya think? And why is that?” he added.
I rolled out of bed and walked over to him, kissing him on the cheek and sliding my arm around his waist. “Because everyday is like Sunday?” I mocked in a teasing voice.
“You best shut it, mister or I’ll tell your mother,” he threatened.
I tweaked his rock solid ass. “Go ahead. She’s under the garden,” I quipped. “Tell her enough with the weeds already while you’re out there yakking with her.”
“I like talking with your mom,” he insisted, his pouty face reflecting back to me in the window. “I miss her.”
I pulled him into my arms. “I know you do, baby boy. I do too.”
“Mom and Dad are coming over for the barbeque later as well,” he said. “I know you wanted a low key thirtieth with the twins, but they want to see our godsons too.”
“What time will Hastings and Jennifer be here?” I asked. “And of course Mom and Dad are welcome,” I added, loving Roger and Charla like my own parents.
“Jen said after their naps,” Coop said. “You know how grumpy they can get without their naps.”
“But today is their birthday too,” I complained. “I love Jen like a sister but lighten up lady.”
“That’s why she’s the mom and you’re not,” he scolded. “Now get dressed. I need help edging the driveway and then we have the backyard to mow, so hurry up, hubby of mine.”
“You’re killing me, smalls,” I bitched.
“Hush,” Coop ordered, squeezing the arm that was still around him.
“I really like this room,” he said. “The color is relaxing,” he added, picking up the framed photo of my parents from the dresser.
“I love this picture of them. They look so happy, don’t ya think?
” he asked, laying his head on my shoulder.
“They do,” I agreed, drawing a circle around Mom’s head as if she had a halo there. She didn’t but she deserved one, nonetheless.
Coop gave me a quick kiss. “I love you, Michael Hill,” he said, looking me directly in the eye. I adored it when he called me Michael. I thought of Mom when he did since she was the only person I liked calling me by my formal name besides him.
“I’ll be right out after my coffee.”
“Your mug is already on the counter,” Coop said, turning and heading back outside.
I walked to the kitchen, most of it completely gutted and redone since Mom ruled the room. The French doors remained though because just like her, I liked having easy access to the garden, where her marigolds brightened the flower beds around the deck.
I poured coffee into my oversized ceramic mug which used to be Mom’s. The words on it read: I’m not from this universe but I’m friendly.
I let out a laugh like I did most times when I thought of how silly the saying was, but also knowing it fit her to a tee.
Cooper wasn’t in the driveway when I stepped out the front door.
I checked across the street and saw him and his dad rummaging through the garage looking for something Coop probably wanted to borrow.
The sun felt nice on my bare chest as I meandered around the yard, making my way to the driveway edge that needed my attention.
“Hello, young man,” a voice said from beside me. I jumped slightly, not expecting anyone next door since the house had recently sold. “I’m your new neighbor,” a pleasant woman stated, extending her hand for me to shake. “Katie,” she introduced.
“Mike,” I acknowledged. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”
She was a pleasant looking woman, maybe in her fifties. Her eyes unnerved me with their color. I’d only seen that color of green on one other person.
“I’m sorry if I startled you,” she apologized.
“No problem,” I said. “It’s just been awhile since we’ve had neighbors next door. My husband is over there,” I said pointing across the street, not sure why I needed the new neighbor to know I had a husband.
“Yes, I’ve met Cooper,” she said, smiling. “Him and I were talking about your flowers over there near the walkway. My cat was laying in the middle of them earlier.”
“So you have a cat?” I asked. “Cooper is a veterinarian,” I added.
“Yes, he told me that when he picked Sunday out of your flower beds. She seemed to take to him right away.”
“Your cat’s name is Sunday?” I asked. “That’s kind of an unusual name for a cat.”
As soon as my words left my mouth, a black cat came out of her open garage door and headed straight for me and encircled my legs.
“She likes you, Mike,” she said. “Sunday doesn’t normally like anyone but me.”
I bent over to pet the affectionate cat. I’d never had a cat as a child because my father was allergic to them. I could take or leave them but this cat was friendly. I stood up and watched as the cat headed for the flower beds again.
“Anyone else live with you,” I asked, hoping I wasn’t being too forward, but I wanted to like our new neighbor since we’d been very close to the old neighbors.
“Nope. Just me,” she answered, seeming nonplussed by my question.
I couldn’t help myself. “Kind of a large house for one person.”
“That’s what the realtor said,” she replied. “But I guess the house just spoke to me.”
She was warm and her personality was refreshing. I felt compelled to know this woman after three short minutes. “Where’d you move from?” I asked.
“Seattle,” she offered. “I lost my husband a few years ago and wanted to find a smaller town to live in so I have the opportunity to bond with more folks. Seattle can be a little uptight and I like people,” she added.
“I’ve heard about the Seattle chill. I almost attended college there but landed at Washington State instead,” I said.
“Yes, Cooper told me you both graduated from WSU.”
I’d apparently missed the initial get-acquainted meeting. “Him much later than I did of course. You know, vet school and all.”
“I understand,” she said, staring at my necklace. “May I?” she asked.
“Sure,” I replied, letting her hold the ring attached.
“Birthstones?”
Her eyes were disarming. “Yes. Mine, Cooper’s, and my folks’,” I answered. “I like to keep them close,” I added, not in the least bit uncomfortable that she remained so close to me examining the ring.
“How long since they passed?”
“How’d you know they passed?” I asked.
“A mother knows these things, son.”
“So you have children?” I asked.
“Nope. Never had the privilege.”
Her response caught me off guard. She wasn’t a mother but inferred that she was. And I’d only known one other mature adult that used the word nope. My mother. The same green-eyed person who I missed terribly.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.
“That’s quite alright, son,” she said. “I’ve managed to make friends. Some young like you and Cooper even.”
Katie let go of the necklace and took a step back. “Three of you are Cancers I see. Who was Aries?”
“My mother, Cooper, and I are Cancers. Dad was an Aries but he didn’t believe in all that sorta stuff,” I admitted. “Mom sure did though,” I added, laughing at the memory.
“Sounds like a wise woman, your mother.”
“Today is all of our birthdays,” I said. “Well, Coop and I, that is. And this probably sounds impossible, but our twin godsons also share our birthday. They’re coming over later actually.”
Katie grinned and nodded like she had a secret. “Want to hear something that you might think is even more impossible?” she asked.
“Go ahead,” I encouraged. “I learned to believe in the impossible because of my mother.”
“Today is also my birthday.”
We stood in silence while I processed her words. I was speechless and wondered if Coop had discovered all the fascinating similarities we had with our new neighbor.
“No way.”
“Way,” she joked.
“Well then, Katie. Happy birthday to you. Maybe you’d like to join us later? Meet the whole gang?”
“I’ve met Cooper’s parents already. I feel like I’ve known them for years. They’re quite proud of you two boys,” she said.
“Look at me,” I said. “I guess I was late to the meet and greet.”
“It seems I’ve saved the best for last, Michael,” she said, giggling a girly laugh and filling my heart with a beautiful memory. “May I call you Michael?”
“I think I’d like that.”
The two of us stood staring at one another. There was something there but I couldn’t quite put a finger on what that something was.
“I feel like I know you, Michael.”
“You read my mind,” I stated.
“Well okay then,” she said.
I wondered if we were done talking. I didn’t want to be done just yet. I reached for her hand. “Lemme show you my marigolds in the backyard. You’re going to love them.”
THE END