Epilogue
EIGHT MONTHS LATER
Des
It’s another chaotic morning in the Chance-Desmond household. In between getting the kids up, getting them dressed, and making sure they brush their teeth, I’ve gotten my cardio in for the day by eight.
And then there’s also the matter of feeding Big Guy, the rabbit Tanner got Lulu and Dean. The kids may forget to do their homework or where they left the remote, but they clearly remembered the time Tanner promised them a pet rabbit for keeping our fake marriage ruse alive.
Big Guy hops around in his cage as I put pellets in a little bowl for him. Despite the kids really wanting him, I’m the one who does most of the rabbit maintenance, including trimming his nails, which is as difficult as it sounds.
On a sunny summer morning, Dean hovers near me while I perfect my omelet flip.
“I have an idea for the next omelet. We should put the leftover mac and cheese in there,” Dean says, acting as if he just discovered alchemy.
“Maybe next time, pal.” I flip the omelet. One half flops onto the other in a beautiful, fluid motion. If they handed out gold medals for omelets…this one probably wouldn't come close. But it’d score gold in the Chance-Desmond household.
“Look at it.” I slide it onto a plate and hand it to Dean. “That is a work of art.”
“Eh.” Dean takes the plate and heads to the table without acknowledging my hard work. Luckily, I’m used to this treatment from my clients.
He plops into his seat and lets out a loud pfffft. “Hey!” he yells, pulling a whoopee cushion from under the kitchen seat cushion.
Lulu laughs so hard milk threatens to spew from her nose.
“That’s payback for the can of snakes in the pantry last week,” I say.
“Tushy.” Dean slaps the whoopee cushion on the kitchen table.
“I told you, it’s pronounced touché,” says Lena, who eats a bowl of cereal next to him.
“I want a cwoissant,” Lulu says, emphasizing its Frenchness. “Those eggs smell magnifique. Bonjour.” Lulu bows to me. “Beaucoup.”
Lena used Lulu to help her practice French this past year. Lulu has become quite the Francophile in response. I chuckle to myself. “Cheese omelet?”
“Mercy,” she says as Americans pronounce it. “Did you know there’s a street in Paris called Chomps Ulysses?”
“You don’t say.” I have fond memories of dropping six grand on an Omega watch there, then sitting in a café, people watching with the most delicious coffee I’ve ever had. Another life. Perhaps one day, I could take Tanner and the kids there. Vacationing with four kids: what could go wrong?
Over the past eight months, we’ve gotten into routines with the kids, while I’ve been learning to balance new work responsibilities with new domestic duties.
I may take work calls while cleaning up the kitchen, or hop back online for a little bit after everyone’s asleep.
I’m making it work. As much as I love the work I do, I’m grateful to have a family to come home to every night.
It reminds me that contrary to what I used to believe, work isn’t everything.
That no matter how stressful a day I have, I can unplug from my phone and get lost in their worlds.
(And when living in a quaint house with four kids gets a little too stressful, I’m grateful to get lost in my work. Like me, it goes both ways.)
My future travel mate swoops into the kitchen and grabs a banana.
“Omelet?” I ask my husband. I lean back from the stove to give him a morning kiss.
“No thanks. I gotta run.” Tanner pulls his gardening gloves from his back pocket.
The extra time at home has allowed him to reconnect with his love of planting and hoeing.
He meets up with a gardening club on Friday mornings to work on elaborate flower beds at Renegade Park.
I man the fort. Luckily, Lena has work, the boys have day camp, and Lulu loves coming to the office with me.
My coworkers can’t get enough of her, and she gives the bluntest feedback on all of our advertisements.
Matthias knocks at the back door. Lena turns red and puts on her best smile.
“Matthias!” I give him a rousing high-five. He still acts nervous and scared around me after our carnival skirmish, despite the fact that I’m always friendly to him. He kind of reminds me of a cat perpetually seconds away from dashing under the bed.
“Hey everyone!” he says when he comes in. “Mr. Chance, are you ready to go?”
“Yes! Let’s do this.” Tanner claps Matthias on the shoulder. “Are you ready to plant some hydrangeas?”
“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my whole life.”
Even though Lena and Matthias broke up, Tanner was able to retain custody of him.
They’re now garden club buddies. Lena and I share many an eye-roll at the development.
Fortunately, Matthias started dating a girl two months ago, effectively ending his crush on Lena.
She has yet to shed a tear about the one who got away.
“Can I talk to you a second?” Tanner pulls me into the living room.
“Are you nervous?” He asks in a low voice moments later.
“About what?”
“Today is your annual checkup for…the C-word.”
“Curmudgeon?” I smirk at him.
“Cancer.” Tanner crosses his arms. “Your appointment is this afternoon.”
“Will you be back in time from hoeing it up with the gardening club in time to hang with Lulu?” I’ve used the hoeing joke a bunch since he joined.
Hasn’t gotten old yet. I rub Tanner’s shoulders, hoping to bring about that smile I love so much.
“I’ve been cancer free for four years. Statistically speaking, I should be fine.
Don’t get yourself worked up over nothing. ” I kiss his forehead.
“There’s always a chance…a chance I could lose you.” Fear clouds his eyes, and I wipe the smirk of my face. I kiss him softly.
I pull him to me. “Tan, it’s going to be fine.”
“This is serious, Des. This is…curmudgeon.”
I rub my hands up and down his arms, trying to bring him calm. His eyes are saucers of worry. My far-off fear is right in his face.
“It’ll be okay,” I tell him. “And if it’s not, we’ll get through it together.” I rest my forehead against his. “I love you.”
“Love you more.”
“It’s not a contest.”
“But if it was, I’d win.” Tanner pulls me into a kiss that sets me ablaze. I told him that when the kids start school in the fall, I’m taking a day off work and spending it in bed with him. No exceptions.
“Matthias is waiting for you,” I whisper.
Tanner
It’s amazing how much my life has changed since I married Des.
Being able to be a full-time dad has allowed me to stop and breathe for the first time since Katie died.
Heck, for the first time since my twenties.
I’m able to make better meals (and less take-out), spend quality time with the kids without the incessant dinging of Slack notifications in my ear.
I keep meaning to do some job searching, but Des says there’s no rush. I want to do something. We have four kids we’ll need to put through college, after all. In the meantime, I’m gardening, cleaning our house, and getting sucked into more PTA volunteering alongside Russ.
But for now, I have bigger things to worry about. Des. His test. He said there’s very little chance of a recurrence, but that’s not zero. I never expected to go biking with my wife and have her die twenty-four hours later. Things happen.
He hasn’t called or texted all afternoon.
As the day wears on, my nerves get more heightened, until I find myself chowing down on two red velvet cupcakes at For Goodness Cakes.
Lulu and I joined Cal there for his weekly ‘You Made It Through Another Week’ red velvet cupcake.
But not even Cal’s theatrics could distract me.
I check my phone at every red light on the way home.
“Dad, you can’t text and drive,” Lulu says.
“Sorry, sweetie. You’re right.”
Things will be okay. They will. If Des has a recurrence of cancer, we’ve likely caught it early. He can get treatment. He got treatment last time.
I keep thinking of him in that hospital bed, in the chemotherapy chair. We played cards and watched hockey games together, and I could tell he was in pain. But he kept it to himself.
At a red light, I close my eyes and say a silent prayer. There are so many people in the world who are hurting. I am low on the list of priorities for the big guy in the sky. But please let Des be okay. But let our family stay intact.
“Dad, why are your eyes closed?” Lulu asks.
“Can you think really good, really happy thoughts?” I ask through the rearview mirror.
“Like about ice cream?” Lulu asks.
“Exactly.”
She squeezes their eyes shut. Lulu mumbles to the Lord her request for ice cream. It’s so cute how unself-aware little kids are. There’s nothing so pure.
My heart pounds louder and louder in my ears when I pull onto our street. It becomes full-volume bass between my ears when I spot Des’s car in the driveway.
Did he forget to text because he’s fine? Or did he get bad news he’s afraid to share?
We go in the house; nobody’s there.
“Hello?” I call out.
The silence is eerie. My house is never this quiet. The opening of a door makes me jump. Dean exits the bathroom. A flash of parental approval distracts me when I notice his hands are wet and freshly washed.
“Hey, Dad,” he says nonchalantly.
“Where is everyone? Where’s Des?” I ask.
“We’re all outside.” Dean strolls through the living room and kitchen to the sliding patio door.
Des runs with a football through the backyard, my three oldest kids chasing after and tackling him in the end zone, as the sun shines above us. Their overlapping laughter echoes in the wind. It’s an image reserved for catalogs.
“That’s a touchdown! That counts! I’m still holding onto the ball,” Des says, wiping grass off his old T-shirt.
“The ball touched the ground. It doesn’t count,” says Davy.
“Where’s the instant replay?” Lena manages through laughter.
“According to official NFL rules, I was over the line with the ball in my hands. Counts. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta do my touchdown dance.”