Epilogue
Our kids are dumb as rocks. I don’t say this to my wife, but I know she’s thinking it too. Genius must skip a generation.
Archie’s three, and he still thinks nothing tastes better than a fresh booger from his nose.
Ada, named after Ada Lovelace, an English mathematician who did something a gazillion years ago that changed history (blah, blah, blah), is two, and she thinks pooping on the houseplants will make them grow.
So Everleigh tells everyone that Ada is potty trained, but she is not.
She squats to pee in the grass and shits on ferns and orchids. There’s no potty involved.
As all these thoughts play in my mind, along with the overarching theme, which is that I have the best fucking life ever, my wife glances up from the sofa, one child on each side of her as she reads them Charlotte’s Web.
She rolls her eyes at me because I’m in my usual spot outside the front door, peering through the window like a stalker.
It’s what I do at the end of every shift.
I’ve taken a cushy job (Fitz’s words) with the Fire Prevention Bureau.
I open the door, and my babies skitter off the sofa and barrel toward me. The only thing that matters to me is being a loyal, loving husband, and a father who prioritizes time with my kids.
“Daddy, let’s fish!” Archie squeals when I pick both of them up at the same time and rub my scruffy face against their necks until they’re squirming in a fit of giggles.
“The house is a mess, and I’m exhausted,” Everleigh declares, standing from the sofa while tying her hair into a ponytail.
I set the kids on the floor and pull her into my arms. “Dr. Reichart says the most important time for a mother to be fully present with her children is in the first three years,” I mumble before nibbling her earlobe.
“There’s a reason Dr. Reichart is no longer practicing psychiatry.
She has no clue what she’s talking about.
” She presses her hands to my chest. “Am I not allowed to have a long sigh and a few grumbled words at the end of the day without you thinking I want to be somewhere else dealing with someone else’s problems?
” She lifts onto her toes and kisses me.
“You’re allowed.” I release her.
“I’m going for a run before it gets dark.” She practically skips toward the bedroom.
Her remedy for exhaustion and mine are totally different.
After a long day, gaming relaxes me (it used to), but we rarely game.
No screens for the kids until they’re older.
Just nose-picking and fertilizing plants along with endless giggles, regular meltdowns, and a wall of bins filled with “sensory activities.” On the rare occasion that we don’t have kids in our bed and we’re still awake after they’re asleep, we dig out the gaming system, and it feels like no time has passed since I met the seventeen-year-old medical student who loves gaming as much as I do.
And while Dr. Reichart is no longer seeing patients, we have frequently packed up the kids and flown around the country for her to speak at medical conferences, and she consults on special pediatric cases when asked.
I know raising children is her new chapter in life, but I also know she’s only just begun to change the world.
“Ready!” Archie runs toward me wearing his green rubber rain boots, jeans, no shirt, and his tan bucket hat. He’s his mom with big brown eyes and thick black hair. For that matter, Ada is Everleigh as well. I swear I’m the father, but it would take a paternity test to prove it to anyone.
“Where’s Sissy?” I straighten his hat.
He narrows his eyes like he’s unaware that he has a sister. Maybe his genius is just delayed.
I chuckle. “Let me change my clothes and grab a wrap for Ada.” Everleigh has made me a master at wearing Ada in every kind of wrap and carrier imaginable, so I never have the excuse that she’s too young to go with me.
I don’t remember the last time I did anything around here or went on a hike without a child attached to me.
My younger self might have complained about the demands of raising kids, but since losing my father and experiencing the profound effects of Everleigh growing up without one, I wholeheartedly embrace the gift of fatherhood.
“Don’t forget I’m picking my mom up from the airport later tonight. And your mom’s train comes in tomorrow morning. She said she’d probably be here by noon as long as there are no hiccups getting a rental car,” Everleigh says, carrying her running shoes to the front door.
“We’re getting away for the first time in over three years, how would I forget that?” I ask.
Our moms are staying with the kids while we take the Airstream up to Glacier National Park for our anniversary.
Liz still lives in New York, but she’s not painting as much.
My mom lives in Utah with her new husband, but she still doesn’t fly.
Both of them wanted to stay with the grandkids while we got away, so we suggested that both of them come because it’s a good idea to have one adult per child.
“Hiking by ourselves.” She grins, squatting to tie her shoes. “I’m so excited.”
“I’m excited too.” I work Ada’s wrap around my waist. “But not for the hiking.” I wink.
My wife still blushes when I flirt with her.
“Hey,” I say as she opens the door.
She looks over her shoulder just as Ada hugs one of my legs and Archie grabs the other.
“I’m so glad you burned down your house. I bet Marie Curie feels honored to have made the sacrifice so we could have this life.”
“William, we’d still be exactly where we are now had you saved Marie.” She blows me a kiss. “Just something to think about.” Her focus shifts to our kids, and she can’t help but grin, the one that says all of her dreams came true.
And mine too.