Epilogue #3
“So there is no way it is going to hide my butt,” she said, eyes huge.
“Oh Jesus Christ, we’re still on that? How many times do I have to tell you that big asses are in? Right, guys?” I asked, bringing them in since they were listening anyway.
“She’s not wrong. You know how many squats I have to do to pretend I was born with what you have?” Elsie asked, wrinkling her nose up at the idea of that loathed exercise.
“Did I not tell you what Tig said about asses? I’m pretty sure it is what every guy would say about nice, big asses.”
“I’m not wearing that, Kenz,” she said, shaking her head, sounding apologetic—and she was—because I knew how hard it was for her to speak her mind, let alone stand by her decisions when she was confronted about it.
“If that means I can’t stand up there, then…
” she shrugged. And I knew she didn’t mean that. I knew she wanted to be up there.
But that was how big of a body image issue she had going on.
And it more than broke my heart a little.
One day, I wanted her to be able to see what everyone else saw when they looked at her.
That being said, I completely understood that my bitching was not going to miraculously cure her of her concerns. I also knew that I would only make the insecurity worse by making a big deal about it.
“Alright, well, you know… maybe you were right,” I agreed, pretending to make a show of looking through my sketches.
“You know, bodycon doesn’t really fit the whole theme here.
” It did. I had two girls in flowy and two in tighter dresses.
It worked perfectly. But for my sister, I was willing to completely revamp Elsie’s dress to make it looser, so everyone was comfortable.
Elsie, being a fashion maven herself with a body that worked with just about anything, would completely understand.
“How about something like this?” I suggested, showing her the sketch I had for my fall collection with mid-length sleeves and a handkerchief skirt that would do wonders to play down her ample behind.
And when she took it, looked it over, then looked up and beamed at me, I saw a spark of some confidence there.
If you would have told me then that in a couple of years she would come out of her shell, love a completely ridiculous choice of a man, and somehow learn to love that great ass of hers, I would have laughed at you.
But that was exactly what happened for her.
And that was her story to tell.
Tig - 2.5 Years
I was terrified.
It was a wholly unknown feeling for me.
I had been in shit situation after shit situation since I was old enough to walk.
I knew what it was like to be face-to-face with groups of men, outnumbered.
I knew how it felt to have a knife to my throat, ripping slices through my skin.
I had felt a gun to my temple. You name it, in my personal life or my line of work, I had been through it.
So I should have completely understood fear.
But I realized as I sat there that I absolutely hadn’t a clue.
Because I was sitting in a stark white hospital room with hideous mauve accents to the walls, chairs, and artwork, the early morning sun blindingly bright through the windows, holding our baby.
Kenzi had been, well, a terrible patient.
She had screamed, thrown things, cried, and threatened a homemade vasectomy without anesthetic.
It took a long eighteen hours, but she had finally given us our first child, and after getting stitched up, had fallen into an exhausted sleep after having nursed and held our daughter for almost an hour.
Yes, our daughter.
That was the main reason the fear was a vice grip on my heart and guts.
It was wrong to hope for any one sex over the other, but I had been hoping for a son.
Why, you might ask?
Not because of some lame-ass misogynistic reason like I wanted to throw a ball around with my son. I could throw a ball to a daughter just as well as a son.
See, there were some wounds that never healed.
I had exactly one.
And that was my sister.
That was what had happened to her on my watch.
There was no assuaging that guilt.
There was no getting over that cruelty and loss.
And there damn sure was no way I could let that happen again.
So I had hoped for a son, knowing the chances of a similar fate for him would be significantly less.
It was irrational. I knew that. My life now was nothing like the life back then.
I wasn’t in a slum. I wasn’t hustling to make ends meet, and leaving my loved ones alone to get involved with shitheads.
I could take care of any daughter the same way I took care of Kenzi—with the threat of bloody, painful death if they so much as honked their horn at her.
“One day she is going to tell you that she’s got a date, and you are going to want to drag out a gun, point it at his crotch, and tell him that if he hurts your little girl, you will make a eunuch of him,” Gina’s voice said from the doorway, her head cocked to the side, her smile warm.
“Sounds about right,” I agreed, keeping my voice low, still not overly comfortable around babies and maybe a bit worried about what would happen if I woke her up with my deep voice and she started screaming.
“I wish I could tell you that the worry is for nothing,” she added, moving in, touching Kenzi’s foot through the sheets.
“But I don’t want to lie to you. More than one of those guys is going to send your baby girl home sobbing her heart out.
I would also like to tell you that it gets easier.
It never does. Every single time you are going to want to charge out there and rip the bastard’s balls off,” she said, and I found myself chuckling, completely able to see that.
“I raised my girls to be independent, to value themselves more than they value their worth as someone’s accessory.
But everyone wants to find love, and they are bound to get burned along the way.
Someone hurts your baby, they hurt you too. ”
“I’ve only known her for an hour or so, but I can already see that,” I admitted.
“All you can do is raise her to be strong and confident and know her own mind. It won’t stop her from falling for the wrong guy here and there, but it will stop her from putting up with things she doesn’t like or getting involved with guys who she knows are bad news.
And eventually, all those nights of crying into buckets of ice cream are going to be worth it when you see your baby finally find the right man for her.
It doesn’t seem like it now; it seems like no one would ever be worthy, but someday some man will, and all that stress when they were younger will be worth it. ”
“So, what you’re saying is, you like me, huh?” I teased as she moved toward my side to look down at the round face with a mass of dark hair already. Her eyes hadn’t been opened long enough to determine if she got Kenzi’s and her whole family’s green eyes or my brown.
“I love you, Tig,” she said, shaking her head.
And it was maybe the first time in my life that I heard those words from a maternal figure.
It never even occurred to me before how fucked up that was.
I certainly never thought it was words that I needed to hear, but as they settled, seeming to seep into my skin and warm through my system, I saw how much I did, how much they meant.
“And believe me, watching Kenz go through all those idiots in their ridiculously expensive suits with their gazes always on their phones because work was more important to them than her, it was all worth it to see her find you. Now, I only have Reese to worry about.”
“Reese has a good head on her shoulders.”
“Yeah, the problem being she’s always stuck up inside it and not actually living her life.
See, we all screw up our kids in different ways, intentional or not.
Even with the best intentions at heart, we allow our actions, words, and example to shape them differently.
Kenzi decided to take the independent thing to an extreme, but it was okay because it made her unshakable.
No man could throw her off her game. Reese, I think she fell into books because her life was so up and down with money struggles after her dad was out of our lives for good, and then her brother’s getting involved with Third Street, and Kenz rebelling.
Her stories enabled her to escape and have adventures in a safe way.
A part of me is worried she will never look up long enough even to notice a real-life flesh-and-blood man would be just as fun to explore. ”
I wasn’t going to tell her that I heard a rumor about Reese only two days before.
And while she wasn’t getting involved with Brock like I had once suggested to Kenz, the man on her heels was every bit the kind of man I said she needed—extroverted, but good-hearted, someone who would love her shyness, but also slowly ease her out of her comfort zones, help her grow.
Gina would find out soon enough.
Whether she would approve or not, well, that was up for debate.
Her brothers, though, would not be happy.
But I had a sneaking suspicion that he would prove himself eventually, that Gina would be able to breathe easy and know her girls were both safe and happy.
“So, do we have a name yet or is she being as ridiculous about this as she was about naming her first hamster?”
“Ariah. It means lion,” I added, smiling at her. “She wanted to give her a fierce name.”
“That’s my Kenz.”
Mine too. Mine too.
Kenzi - 7 Years
“Ariah, stop pulling her hair,” I called, my tone a little bored-sounding. This was because it was the tenth time I had to tell my stubborn little five-year-old to stop doing that. Wait, five and a half. That half was very, very important to her.