Epilogue
EPILOGUE
CASSIE
Four years later
I stomped up the stairs of our house, huffing with every step I took.
“Cassie, will you please talk to me?” Matthew followed behind me, hot on my tracks. I knew he wasn’t going to let me run away from this. Not after all the progress we made.
“No, Matthew. I can’t believe this.” I sobbed, almost closing the door to the upstairs bathroom before Matthew got there, but he sprinted up the steps before I did, sticking his foot in the door.
I sat on the toilet, crying into my hands. Matthew kneeled before me, and I hated him seeing me like this. Weak and vulnerable.
“Cassie, these things take time. We can’t rush it. We’ll keep trying and eventually—” Matthew reasoned, but he was quickly cut off by a now hysterical me.
“There is no eventually, Matthew. It either happens or it doesn’t. I should have known this won’t be easy. Nothing in my life is,” I spat. I really didn’t mean those words. I was grateful for everything I had been through because it led me to right now. Except right now was me crying about getting my period after being two days late.
Matthew rubbed up and down my arms. Every month, it was the same rollercoaster.
Tears streamed down my red cheeks. “What if all the times I said how I didn’t want to be pregnant, God listened and now isn’t going to give us a baby?” I whispered, terrified that this was even going through my head.
Ever since we started trying ten months ago, every negative pregnancy test only reminded me of how much I once didn’t want the alternative.
After five years of being back together, and with a hell of a lot of therapy and tears, we’d finally made the decision to bring a baby into the world. A little piece of Matty and me. I could practically imagine the little boy with crazy hair and green eyes. It was all I thought about.
“Cassie, it will happen. It’s just going to take time. Henry said—” Matthew started, but I grabbed his hand that was on my arm.
“You told Henry?!” I shrieked, annoyed that Matthew shared our struggles with someone other than Phil.
Matthew nodded. “I wanted to help. Please don’t be mad. I also have been speaking to Phil about it during my sessions, and he said adoption would be good to consider and could really benefit us in our healing.”
I sat and listened, and soon I apologized for my rash behavior.
Once I overcame my fear of pregnancy and death, baby fever kicked in. Even though I wasn’t fearful of having a child anymore, I still wanted to be smart and have provisions set up in case Matthew and I were to pass away. I also wanted to vet my doctors and ensure no malpractice cases were associated with them.
“Maybe I can call some of the caseworkers I work with?” Matthew implored. He was proud of his contacts and the children he had helped so far. I was so fucking proud of him as well.
Two years ago, he became a guidance counselor in our school district and was thrilled to be living his dream. Both professionally and personally.
I nodded. “Fine.” I paused for a minute, thinking. “But we can still try, right?”
Matthew stood from the bathroom floor and pulled me with him, leading me out into the hall. “Yes, baby. Try, try, try again. You know how much I love trying. I’m good at trying,” Matthew boasted, pressing me against the wall outside the bathroom. I felt how much he loved trying by the hardness in his pants.
I grabbed his neck and kissed him with such fervor and passion, he was stunned, but it didn’t take long for him to catch up.
Matthew and I stood on the doorstep, hand in hand. I looked back to see the gentleman accompanying us, messing around with paperwork in his truck. I rolled my eyes and shuffled from one leg to another, too nervous to stand still.
“Would this be a terrible time to tell you I’m pregnant?” I blurted, looking up at Matthew, who suddenly was gaping like a fish.
After a minute, I waved a hand in front of his face, and next thing I knew, he was spinning me around. He quickly set me down. “Oh shit, I didn’t hurt the baby, did I?” He gasped, checking me up and down to make sure I was okay.
I waved him off, and soon we heard a voice from the other side of the door. “You worthless little?—”
Matthew and I exchanged a knowing look, and I picked at my fingers just thinking of what those poor children must have had to endure.
“Go. I’ll distract him,” Matthew instructed. He looked back at the caseworker, Neil, who was overwhelmed by his caseload. Too many kids, not enough homes. It was the name of the game.
I knocked once to give whoever was the wicked foster parent a little notice before I turned the doorknob. Of course it was open.
The house was small and dated, much like the homes I knew all too well from my own youth. But it was clean, no doubt because of the kids’ chores. There were no colorful toys or anything that indicated that children lived there.
I sighed and bumped into a little boy with curly hair, steadying him with my hands on his shoulders. He had dimples in both cheeks, a gap-toothed smile, and he was just plain adorable. I tore my gaze away from the boy and then spotted a little girl in pigtails and a too-small dress, who was collecting crumbs with a dustpan.
“Raine, I told you I’d do it,” the little boy scolded as he reached for the dustpan filled with crumbs.
“No, Ryan. I can do it!” She pulled the dustpan away from him.
He tightened his grip and leaned back with force. Crumbs flew everywhere, and I stiffened, knowing making a mess never fared well for children in their position.
“You fuck—” The woman came out from the hallway to see the commotion. Not realizing I was standing there, she was about to backhand the little girl.
“Stop!” I bellowed, revealing myself as Matthew and Neil made their way inside.
The woman smirked slightly, but she relented when she saw the caseworker with us. She mumbled something in the direction of the children toward the effect of “you’re gonna get it.”
I cringed, remembering hearing those words more than once. Matthew made eye contact with me, and we had a silent conversation. I nodded as we finished, happy to see we were on the same page.
I crouched down to the level of the two small children. “How do you guys feel about grilled cheese? I’ve been told it’s my specialty.” My tone was soft and I spoke evenly, not wanting them to be frightened. They needed to feel safe. I wanted nothing more than to give them the childhood we never got.
Matthew started talking to Neil about paperwork and the specific needs of both children. Adopting two children was tougher than one, but Matthew and I were more than hopeful that this would be another little wonder we would be blessed with.
Fate brought us back together when it was nearly impossible. Fate gave us a child when five years ago, the notion couldn’t even be considered. We knew this would be one more obstacle. One more gift of fate granted to us. Well, technically two.
“We love grilled cheese!” they said simultaneously, jumping up and down with the prospect of being adopted.
Matthew and I looked at one another and were overcome with the similarities of our childhood.
There were hugs and promises of the future exchanged. These small moments were what made life worth living. Nothing else mattered. All the trials and tribulations we went through were all worth it. All the regrets, the doubts, the fights—the darkness had a way of blocking out all the little glimmers of light. Well, it did if we let it. Now, we’d learned to always let the light win.
The hardest part was over. We would only remember the struggle in order to learn and do better.
For our family.
We finally had a family. A real family.
“Hand me that paintbrush, Raine,” I asked my daughter. I reached down to grab the slimmer paintbrush from her hand.
“Mom, should you be up on the ladder right now?” Ryan asked, holding the wooden rails tighter. He reminded me so much of Matty when we were younger, a worrywart. “I mean, you’re pretty big.”
Matthew stifled a chuckle from the doorway, watching our exchange. I shot him a dirty look, not being able to say what I really wanted to say to him.
“Big? Really, kid? I’m nine months pregnant.” I pouted at Ryan’s bluntness.
“Eight and a half, baby,” Matthew corrected, laughing and helping me step down from the ladder. “No more, Cassie. The mural is stunning, just like you.” Matthew put his hand on my tummy to feel our daughter kick.
I had been working on a mural of The Velveteen Rabbit for the baby’s nursery since I found out I was pregnant. I had been itching to paint since taking my sabbatical to help Ryan and Raine adjust to adopted life. This gave me the perfect opportunity. Ryan and Raine loved helping me paint too, giving the room a special touch for their new sister. I never wanted them to feel inferior to our biological baby so we made sure we showered them with love and affection daily.
“Vanessa’s been a soccer player today!” Raine commented, informing Matthew.
We were naming our daughter Vanessa because it meant butterfly or rebirth. All of our growth transformed us into the people we were today. Vanessa was a product of that, so no name was better suited.
Matthew and I navigated life after foster care differently, and our choices almost tore us apart for good. We would never be the same. Nobody would ever know what it was like, but we knew. We also knew what life was like without the other, and under no circumstance would we end up back there.
Life would always be messy. But in that mess, you needed to find the real. Pretending and faking got you nowhere. If you couldn’t be who you really were, who could you be?
Real wonders. Real life. Real love.