Epilogue - Don’t say his name
EPILOGUE - DON’T SAY HIS NAME
IVY
“Can you believe this is my first manicure ever?”
“Honey, your cuticles are a goddamn nightmare. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve never gotten a manicure in any of your past lives, either.” Brandy files away at my short nails, her nose scrunched up in disgust at the state of my cuticles.
“Seriously, Ivy. You work with your hands. You have them all over your clients, don’t you think you should make sure they’re presentable?”
That comes from Mindy, who is sitting in one of the rolling massage pedicure chairs with her feet soaking in water and bath salts.
She has one hand resting on her belly bump and the other held out for one of Brandy’s assistants, who is coating Mindy’s nails in polish.
Next to her, Sadie and Delilah sit in their own massage chairs, not even trying to hide their laughter at the other women’s nagging.
It’s only been a few weeks since Earl died—or at least, officially became dead to us—but it’s been a long road.
Ultimately, he did everything James told him to do.
His and Delilah’s divorce was finalized quickly since she was asking for nothing from him but custody, which he signed over.
He also surrendered any legal rights to parenting Sadie and Little Bean, a last-minute decision from Delilah and me.
Child support might have been nice, but the possibility of me one day adopting the kids officially was nicer, and I can more than afford to take care of all of us.
He does still have to pay child support to Mindy, who came to Delilah and apologized a few days after Earl skipped town.
It wasn’t an easy conversation and to her credit, Mindy wasn’t expecting forgiveness for knowingly sleeping with a married man.
She did confess some insecurities and told us that she’s been going to therapy since the beginning of her pregnancy because she wants to be the best person she can be for her child.
Things between them are still a little rocky, and I don’t know if I’ll ever fully trust Mindy, but her son and our daughters are siblings.
It’s in the best interest of everyone involved if we adults get along, so we’ve all been making an effort.
Brandy makes a good buffer for all of us and her salon serves a neutral ground where we can all get along.
“Just be thankful she’s not asking you to go near her feet,” Delilah calls over. “They’re gnarly.”
“Oh hush, Lilah. Not all of us can have perfect, dainty little toes. Some of us unfortunately still resemble the primates we evolved from.”
“You like my perfect, dainty little toes,” she winks at me, and I shiver. I really, really do. Never in my life did I think I had a foot fetish, but Delilah drags it out of me.
“Is this some sort of weird sex thing? Because if so, stop it. Sadie and I don’t need to hear that.” Mindy cups her hands over Sadie’s ears and she giggles, lighting up the room with her megawatt smile.
“At least they’re having sex,” Brandy grumbles. “I haven’t been laid since—”
“Don’t say his name,” Delilah, Mindy and I all say at once. Earl has become our own personal Beetlejuice. We try not to talk about him for fear of him randomly appearing again.
I glance over my shoulder, just in case.
“I have to get out of this tub,” Delilah exclaims suddenly, rapidly pressing buttons on the chairs remote control. “Vee, help me get out of this tub.”
I’m on my feet in a second, cuticle oil and wet nail polish be damned.
“What’s the matter, Lilah? Is the water too hot?” I hold her hand and help her stand, placing my other hand on her lower back to guide her out of the pedicure tub.
“It’s not that water, it’s my water,” she glances down at the chair, which is now covered in liquid. The back of her dress is wet and clinging to her thighs. “We have to go to the hospital. I’m having a baby.”
All the air leaves my lungs and the only thing keeping me standing steady is the knowledge that if I faint, Lilah is going down with me.
“Holy shit. You’re having a baby?”
“Holy shit, Mama! You’re having a baby?”
“We’re having a baby!”
And only sixteen hours of labor later, Hyacinth Beanie Hudson is finally earth side. Even though it’s the middle of the night, Sadie stayed for the whole thing. She and I held Delilah’s hands as she labored, and Sadie even helped me cut the cord.
I think the whole experience was just gross enough for her nine-year-old sensibilities that the memory will serve as birth control for at least a few years once she’s in her teens.
Watching your sister come out of your mother has to be more effective at instilling the importance of safe sex than the plastic baby I drowned in high school.
Now the four of us are lying in a hospital bed, Sadie in the middle with a sleeping Hyacinth in her arms and Delilah and me on either side.
“Vee Vee, are you Hyacinth’s other Mama?” Sadie asks, not taking her eyes off her baby sister. I look at Delilah over her head and she gives me a nod.
“Yeah, Sadie Girl. I am Hyacinth’s other Mama.”
“Does that mean you’re my other Mama too?”
I brush my hand over her smooth hair, pushing flyaway wisps out of her face.
“That depends. Do you think you might want me to be your other Mama? Or do you want me to just be your Vee Vee? I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Sadie Girl.”
She takes a moment to consider, her little lips pursed in concentration.
I bite the inside of my cheek, anxiously awaiting her answer.
I’ll be fine either way. The only thing that matters to me is that Sadie, Hyacinth, and Delilah are happy and healthy.
But still, the anticipation is nerve wracking.
“I think…I want you to be my Mama Vee Vee. You’re already kind of like my mom. You do all the same things Mama does for me, and you live with us and take care of us. We already are a family, but I think we could be even more family if you’re Mama Vee Vee and Mama is Mama.”
I blink up at the ceiling, willing the tears not to fall.
“Mama Vee Vee it is then,” I say to Sadie once I’ve halfway composed myself.
“You’ve just become a mother of two, Ivy. Congratulations," Delilah winks through tears. She couldn’t hide hers if she tried, having just given birth. The hormones are going to be in control for the foreseeable future.
“Any advice for me, Lilah baby?”
“Yeah. Good fucking luck, babe.”