Epilogue
Karan
Eleven Years Later
There were many times over the last decade when I thought I finally understood what went through my mother’s head. Why she held on so tightly to me, to the point where it all boiled over that one day at the cabin.
But only now, as I hold both my boys in my arms and have to hold back the sobs that want to rip through me, do I truly understand.
All around us, the Montréal–Trudeau International Airport is rife with noise and commotion, as it always is. How many hundreds—if not thousands—of lives are changing forever around us today?
Mine feels like it’s about to end, though I should know better.
“Okay, Dad, we really have to go,” Cayce says as he tries to pull away.
Corey, on the other hand, lingers a moment longer.
“I know,” I say, my voice breaking.
I sense Rachel’s hand on my back as a silent support. She’s as torn about our boys moving away as I am, and, unlike me, her tears fall freely, staining her cheeks red. But that small touch gives me the final boost of courage I need to let my sons go.
I back away and take a final look at them. They’ve grown so fast, I can hardly comprehend it. They’re tall, but not quite as tall as me, although, at seventeen, there’s a good chance they’re not done growing just yet. I think the right word to describe them right now is ‘lanky’.
But it seems like just yesterday, they were small enough for me to lift them both in my arms at the same time.
And despite them being identical twins, right now, they look nothing alike. Cayce has let his straight black hair grow to his chin, and the beginnings of a beard are peppered across his jaw, while Corey is clean-shaven and never lets his locks get over two inches long.
Cayce doesn’t mind the glasses they both need, while Corey prefers his contacts. Both still play soccer, but only Corey still plays seriously, and the difference in their build is staggering.
Under all accounts, my sons are set up for success.
No, they don’t have the huge trust fund I originally wanted to build for them.
But with Corey’s full-ride sports scholarship at the University of British Columbia—home of arguably the country’s best college soccer program—he will barely need to dip into his college savings.
And although Cayce is taking a sabbatical year to tour Europe, he has worked so hard at his part-time jobs throughout high school that he can easily swing it.
Still, I’m terrified the savings we gave them won’t be enough. My video game studio has launched a few successful games by now, but it’s by no means making me rich. I haven’t yet been able to give myself the same salary I would be earning by now if I’d stayed in the software industry.
But with Rachel’s support, and regular therapy appointments, the anxiety has been manageable.
Corey looks me up and down, and, seeming to detect my worry, hugs me again.
“We’re going to be okay, Dad,” he whispers in my ear. “You prepared us for it. We’re both ready.”
“I know,” I repeat when he pulls away, alternating my gaze between the two of them. “I’m so proud of you both.”
“We both are,” Rachel says through her tears. “Oh, I love you both so much.”
I’m proud of how they’re both pursuing their own dreams, unapologetically. They don’t struggle with the same separation anxiety that plagued them when they were little, but still, the choice to go their separate ways was a painful one.
One they took anyway.
By the time they’ve gone through their gates, both headed to a layover in Toronto before they’re then headed in completely different directions, a few tears manage to break their way past my defenses.
And when Rachel and I drive away from the airport, we’re both bawling like babies, so much so that I have to exit the highway to park on the side of the road.
But Rachel makes me feel safe, even in the moment when I feel the most vulnerable. The most broken.
When we’ve both settled down, enough that I can drive again, Rachel places a hand on my thigh.
“Corey’s right,” she tells me in a contemplative tone. “You couldn’t have prepared them for the world any better.”
“We both did,” I reply. “It’s still us against the world, right?”
Rachel grins at me, ever the beauty, with the two strands of white hair now framing her face.
“Always.”
Rachel
An hour later, I’m knocking on Sophie’s door, still depleted from the day’s emotions. Karan’s hand is wrapped around mine.
My heart is utterly broken, but a warm inkling of love and hope sparks within to nurture what grows from the ashes.
I don’t think I was ready for my boys to leave.
But they were ready. And that’s what matters.
Sophie opens the door with a bittersweet smile.
“Oh, come here,” she sings, pulling me inside her home by the arm before she wraps me in a tight hug.
“You’re next,” I whisper to her, cry-laughing.
“Ugh. Don’t remind me. In my head, Gwen’s still a baby.”
She pulls away, and I look towards her kitchen, where the rest of tonight’s company sits on stools around the island counter. Will, Océane, Avery, Logan, and even Tania and Nolan are all here.
No kids tonight. Or rather, no teenagers. Gwen, Heather, and Julian headed to Avery and Logan’s place to hang out with Avery’s son Nathan and give us adults some space. The last thing Karan and I needed tonight was a reminder that our friends still have their kids with them.
The gang greets us, and Tania offers us a plate of scrumptious-looking pastries as Logan plays bartender and mixes us a drink.
“I could never say no to those,” I tell Tania as I grab one of her sinful croissant cube delicacies.
“You’re not the only one,” Nolan says with a laugh. “We’re thinking of opening a sixth location. From what our market studies have told us, Val-d’Or would be a good place.”
“Ooh, you should,” Karan agrees while grabbing his own croissant cube.
Over the last decade, Tania’s café bakeries took off in the province, and they now have a total of five locations. I can’t say I’m surprised. Every time I see Tania and Nolan and they bring their delicacies, I probably gain about five pounds.
I lose myself in casual conversation with my dearest friends and family.
The entire time, Karan doesn’t leave my side.
Tomorrow, there’s a good chance we’ll wake up with sore hearts, but we still have each other.
And we have the knowledge that we did our very best to send our boys off into the world equipped with what they need to thrive.
Eventually, we settle down to eat. Sophie prepared a delicious caramelized onion Flammekueche—or rather, she prepared two, with the help of Océane, who, by all means, seems to be having one of her really good days.
Logan and Karan sit next to each other and talk shop, like they always do. Shortly after Karan started his own studio, Logan joined him, so they probably spend the most time together out of all of us.
I take the opportunity to chat up with Avery, who’s sitting in front of me.
“So, how does it feel to work in an actual office again?”
Avery chuckles, then swallows her bite of food. “You know, it’s actually refreshing. My colleagues are some of the best people I know, so it makes it easier that I’m not nervous to be around them.”
She winks and lowers her voice. “Plus, all psychotherapists are a little bit weird and messed up. That’s why we do what we do.”
A few years ago, Avery got the devastating news that her father had died. By then, it had been nearly a decade since they’d last spoken. She had hoped they would one day reconnect, but he had his own demons to deal with, and Avery prioritized her own mental health—and that of her son.
Finding out he had died without her being able to reconnect with him sent her to a dark place for a long time. We were all there for her, none more than Logan. But when she eventually climbed out of that hole, she’d decided she had to change her career.
“It’s weird, but despite my anxiety, it doesn’t make me feel anxious to talk to my clients,” she continues.
“Not even a little bit?” I ask.
“Well, okay, a bit. And I was definitely more anxious with the first few real appointments I took.” She takes a sip of her drink, a sweet, pink thing that matches her demeanor.
“But helping other people through their fucked up family shit gives me an actual purpose. It helps me cope to know that I can help people in a way that I wish someone could have helped me, you know?”
Logan takes a beat from his conversation with Karan and gazes over at the love of his life, making sure she’s okay, before shifting his focus back to Karan.
“Shouldn’t we wait after dessert?” I hear Will say from across the table.
My brows furrow as I gaze over to him and Sophie, who, from their tense body language, seem to be arguing.
“I just… I can’t hold it in anymore,” Sophie responds.
“Hold in what?”
The table goes silent. I don’t think Sophie meant us to overhear. All of us were engrossed in our own conversations. Now, every eye is turned towards her and Will, the weight of expectation palpable.
“Well, I guess you can go for it, now,” Will says, one corner of his lips turning up as he gives Sophie a sideways glance.
Sophie takes a deep breath, presses her palms to the table, and sweeps her gaze over each of us. “We’re, uh… we’re retiring.”
A collective gasp rips out of the room.
“Retiring?” Avery asks, eyes wide. “So, selling the business?”
That’s what she has to mean. Eight years ago, Will quit his consulting job to join Sophie at her party planning business full-time. To say that it’s been thriving over the last decade is an understatement.
“Yup,” Sophie says, looking down towards her lap.
“But that’s great news!” Tania exclaims. “Isn’t it? You’ve been wanting to spend more time with the kids, no?”
“We’re leaving Montréal.”
This time, no gasps echo through the room. Only shocked silence.
Sophie meets my gaze. “We’ve been talking about doing this for a long time. And the whole family agrees. Even Gwen. We’re going to take some time to travel as a family.”
I don’t know what shocks me more—the fact that I won’t see my sister in law for who knows how long, or the fact that Gwen, who has a single year of high school left, agrees to leave her friends behind right before graduation.
“That’s… amazing, guys,” Karan says to break the long, awkward silence.
“It really is,” I add, though all I can think is, My boys are gone, and now so are my brother and my best friend.
“But… wait just a minute.”
My gaze flits between Sophie and Océane.
“Where will you go?” I ask my sister, my throat threatening to clog up.
Océane beams. “Sammie asked me to move in with her.”
“Oh.”
I’m flushed with conflicting emotions. Sammie is a wonderful woman, and yes, they’ve been together for nearly five years. I’ve known her for much longer; she’s about to celebrate her ten-year anniversary working at Karan’s studio.
But I can’t help but wonder if she can take care of my sister in the way she needs.
“Don’t doubt our sister like that,” Will chides me. “I, for one, am proud of her.”
I look at Océane, her cheeks flushed, her smile big. And I realize Will is right. She’s come a long way in dealing with her trauma. Yes, her fibromyalgia will always be a part of her, but her mental health is miles from where it once was. Under all accounts, she’s thriving.
There’s no reason she can’t thrive with the person who seems to be the love of her life.
“You guys are going to love it,” Avery says, her voice breaking as she fights back the flood of tears threatening to spill forth. “Traveling like that was the best experience Logan and I ever went through.”
“I’m going to miss the fuck out of all of you,” Sophie continues, now also on the verge of tears.
“Me too,” Tania adds.
That’s something we can all agree on.
We make the most of the rest of the evening and bask in the joy of being together, now knowing that it’s going to be the last time in a long, long while.
It hurts, but the memories we make are going to be little treasures I hold onto as tightly as I can.
That night, Karan and I take a stroll around our neighborhood after we park in our driveway before heading inside, neither of us ready to face the empty house yet.
Hand in hand, we head out to the Chambly canal, the stars a glittering blanket over our heads.
“I’m so proud of Océane,” I say as I look out to the dark horizon, watching the reflection of the moon ripple across the surface of the water. “She’s been dealt a shit hand, and look what she’s made of it.”
Karan wraps his arm around my waist. “She’s had the right people in her life to give her the support she needed.”
“Hmmm.” I lean against him and close my eyes, reveling in this simple gesture, this simple moment. “And I’m proud of you, too, you know that?”
“Why?”
“Today was hard. And you made it through.”
“It was hard for you, too.”
“We both know it isn’t the same.”
More than a decade ago, Karan’s anxiety over the boys’ future almost took everything from us. Today, he has overcome it with a resilience that I love him more deeply for.
“Maybe. But I’m proud of you, too.” He turns and bends towards me for a kiss.
“I love you,” he whispers to me.
“I love you, too,” I whisper back, meaning every word more than ever before.
This never gets old.
Never.
Twenty-five years together, and I haven’t stopped craving the feel of his lips against mine, the warmth of his body, losing myself in his arms.
This life hasn’t been perfect. But the best moments have deeply outshone the rest. And that’s all you can hope for, is it not?
The End