EPILOGUE
Michael
Six years later…
“Daddy, Daddy!” The little five-year-old dynamo we call Lucas tackles me awake. To be honest, he’d already woken me by crashing into the bedroom and slamming the door against the wall.
“What is it, kiddo?” I ask as I lift the forty-pound weight from my chest and set him gently down on the hardwood floor.
“You know!” he screeches, then laughs. “It’s my very first day of school! We gotta go go go!”
I peer at him, taking my first good look, and laughing with him. In his eagerness, he’s dressed himself, but what he’s chosen is last year’s Halloween costume.
“Superman isn’t appropriate for the first day of school,” I say trying to contain my laughter.
He frowns at me, deep in thought, and a wave of love washes over me so strong that for a moment I can’t breathe.
Finally, he says, “What’s abbopiate mean?”
“Appropriate means,” I say to correct his pronunciation as I swing my legs to the floor and sit up. “That you’ll have to wear something else to school, kiddo.”
“But I’m—” He goes into full five-year-old tantrum but a muffled groan interrupts him.
“Make it stop,” Kim mutters and rolls over.
Kim.
The name I couldn’t stop saying that wonderful evening we met at a hotel in Long Beach.
The name I’ve not stopped saying since.
How I love this woman — my wife, the mother of my son — but I learned early on that she isn’t a morning person.
Slapping her playfully on the ass, I lean over and kiss her cheek. “C’mon, baby. Go make our son some breakfast. I’ll get him washed up and dressed.”
“But I’m Superman!” Lucas finally gets out in his most determined and high pitched voice.
Kim groans but then looks at our son and smiles. “Sweetie, Superman has to hide his identity… who he is. You’ll have to dress more like Clark Kent today, I’m afraid. Daddy will help you pick something out.”
He looks utterly dejected for a moment, but then smiles as I scoop him up to take him back to his room. “Can we have pizza for breakfast?” he screeches as we leave the room. He giggles and squirms all the way down the hall. He can’t contain his excitement while I try to hide a hint of sadness. My boy has been in this home for the past five years, and now he’ll be gone for half a day, five days a week. I’m already missing him.
Breakfast is a bowl of Cap’n Crunch for Luke and something more fiber rich for Kim and me. We have to keep reminding him to eat every time he starts jabbering about what school will be like. But I’m not exasperated with him. What I have right now, in this moment, is absolute perfection. I could listen to this boy talk forever while I stare at his breathtaking mom.
Jesus, when did I turn into such a sap?
It must have been six years ago when I said “I do” for the second, and God help me, the final time, and my heart truly started beating again.
I find myself smirking when Kim looks up at me with a knowing smile. “That is not the face of an innocent man,” she says in a teasing tone.
Luke giggles, and I point at his cereal bowl to encourage him to take another spoonful.
“I’m just happy,” I say, and it’s true. “Are we all finished? Luke has his snack and pencils and notebook and trapper keeper and eraser and pens and crayons and paste and glue and—”
“Dad,” Luke says, drawing the word out while clucking his tongue. “I don’t need all that!” He giggles and jumps up, running into the living room. “I’m ready! I’m ready!”
I smile that slow practiced seductive smile that Kim called me out on so long ago when we first met and wink at her. “Ready to be in the house alone for a few hours?”
She laughs. “Hell, yes!”
I take it that means she’s happy not to have to wait until absolutely certain the boy is sound asleep before locking our bedroom door and getting down to business.
The drive to Luke’s school is short but eventful. From the backseat, he babbles incessantly about what kindergarten will be like. I chuckle each time he says the word. Despite constantly being corrected, he continues to pronounce it kinder-garden. I really hope he doesn’t expect to see rows of flowers in the classroom.
Kim does her best to keep up with him, nodding and commenting and encouraging him whenever he pauses for breath. She’s an amazing mother. I find myself marveling again at my good fortune as I pull into a parking space and only then realize Luke has gone silent.
We both turn to look at him, and my heart goes out to the little guy. For all his excitement and brave talk, now that we’re here, he’s nervous.
“C’mon, sweetie, Daddy and I will walk you to your classroom. Okay?” Kim says in her most soothing tone. “Remember all the fun you’re going to have? And all the new friends you’re going to make?”
Luke shrugs as Kim unfastens him from his booster seat. He grips both our hands tight as we walk up to the entrance. The door to his classroom is open, and Kim bends down to give Luke a big hug.
“I’m so proud of you, sweetie. You’re such a big boy now.”
He hugs her back and then it’s my turn. I grab him up in my arms, give him a good squeeze and a kiss on the cheek, but he’s already squirming.
“Knock ‘em dead, kiddo. We’ll see you for lunch.”
I put him down, and he dashes into the room without a backward glance. He’s making a beeline for a couple of neighborhood boys he’s already friends with. I nod. He’s going to be just fine. A swell of pride grows in my chest as Kim and I watch for a moment as the trio laugh and joke and whisper to each other. After a time, we reluctantly back out of the room and take a few steps down the hall.
“I’m going to miss the little rugrat,” Kim says.
I smile and pull her into my arms, but then, with a frown, push her back to arm’s length. “Are you alright? You look pale.”
“I’m fine. Just a little tired.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, worrywart. I’m sure.” She smiles and takes my hand. “Let’s get home.”
We’re both quiet on the drive home; a welcome respite from Luke’s endless monologue. I park in our driveway and pull Kim in for a kiss. Her lips part for me and I explore her mouth with my tongue for a few minutes before pulling away and whispering in her ear, “Race you upstairs.”
I’m already rock hard for her and adjust myself to a more comfortable position in my pants as I get out of the car. Kim also gets out and shuts her door but just stands there. I look back at her and open my mouth to speak, but she beats me to it.
“Michael… I… I… don’t feel right.”
“Kim?” My heart flies into my throat. She takes a step, but staggers like she can’t get her balance. “Kim!”
I fly to her side, but I’m not quite in time. She falls to the ground and lays there unmoving. I act without thinking. If I start thinking I’ll lose it, I’ll totally fucking lose it. Gently taking her into my arms, I get the car door open and place her onto the seat. Her head lolls to the side as I fasten her into her seatbelt, but I can tell that she’s breathing. Thank fucking god, she’s breathing.
Rushing around to the other side, I dive into the car and start it up. I’m taking her to the hospital. I can’t wait for an ambulance. I can’t take the chance that it doesn’t get here in time or they don’t get her there in time. My mind races about as fast as I’m pushing my car. I think both break the sound barrier as I continue to accelerate down the quiet residential streets. I vow not to stop even if a police car tries to pull me over. I slow down at red lights only enough to get through the intersection without causing an accident. I’m terrified that my entire world is crashing down around me. I feel so fucking helpless, and I give the car more gas. It leaps forward as does my heart which is lodged in my throat.
A few minutes later, I’m running into the hospital with Kim in my arms. She seems to be waking up but so damned slowly. She hasn’t spoken yet, just a couple of soft moans. Battling my way as fast as I can to the nurses’ station, I demand their attention when I get there. I’ve donated money to this hospital, a good sum in fact, and if there was ever a time to throw my weight around as a result of that, now is the time.
“Help me! I need help!”
I’m recognized immediately, and an orderly arrives with a wheelchair while a nurse takes down all the information.
They take Kim away from me.
Then the waiting game begins.
And, I’m hit with a déjà vu so strong I nearly fall to my knees.
No! Jesus no, this can’t be happening again.
***
I call Jack while I wait and tell him what happened. The very first thing he says reminds me of how much I love him like a brother.
“This isn’t Cara all over again, Mikey. Trust me. It’s not.”
He can’t possibly know that, but I let his comforting words soothe me for a few minutes, and it feels like paradise.
“Where are you, Jack? I can’t leave the hospital, and Luke needs to be picked up soon. It’s his first day of school.”
“I’m in the city, but Mary is home. Luke will be alright with his Aunt Mary for now. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”
Jack finally found himself a good woman, good enough to put up with his shit a few years ago, and I stood up for him at his wedding just as he stood up for me both times. Luke knows him as Uncle Jack, and Mary soon became his aunt. Jack and Mary met in a local East End bar, and she convinced him to leave his beloved Brooklyn. His wedding gift to her was a home in the Hamptons. A couple of miles from me. I’ve never been happier about proximity.
I breathe out an exhausted sigh.
“Thanks, man, just… thanks.”
“Don’t worry about a thing, Mikey. I got it covered. I’m leaving the office now. I’ll get to you as soon as I can. I’m hanging up now to call Mary, but you call me back if you need me.”
I don’t bother saying thank you again. He’s already hung up.
Jack can be an ass, but he’s a damned good man.
And, so, I’m back to waiting.
Mary calls a little while later and puts Luke on the phone. I feel terrible not being there for him after his first day, and I let him go on and on. He’s talking so fast I miss a lot of what he says but the gist of it is he had a great day. Thank god for small things. Despite the fist clenching in my belly, the kid makes me smile.
“You be good for Aunt Mary, and I’ll see you as soon as I can, okay, kiddo?”
He starts to tell me another story, but I see the doctor waiting for me to finish. The fist in my stomach clenches harder, but I have to keep my cool for my son.
“Go eat your lunch now, Luke. We’ll talk more later. Promise.”
I wait until I’m sure he’s not saying anything else and then disconnect the call.
And face the man who holds my fate in his hands.
He motions to a couple of empty seats in the corner of the waiting room, and with leaden feet, I join him and sit. I know this man well. We’ve attended the same dinner parties. I was a fourth in his golf party on more than one occasion. But right now, he looms over me like a god. I can’t take another second.
“Spill it. Just tell me.”
He puts a hand on my shoulder, and I try to brace myself for the worst. It’s an impossible task. If the news is bad, I won’t survive it.
“She’s alright, Mike. She’s going to be just fine.”
I look up at him. I’m positive that I heard him wrong, but he’s smiling and nodding his head encouragingly.
“She’s… okay?” I ask like I’m just learning English. He continues to nod while I take it all in. “Then what happened to her?”
“She’s dehydrated and mildly anemic for starters. I have her on fluids, and I’m keeping her overnight. I want to make sure all her levels are normal before releasing her.”
“Okay…” My brain is still spinning, and my words come out slowly. “You said ‘for starters.’ What else?”
“Nothing to worry about. She’s simply run down, exhausted. I’m prescribing bed rest for a few days until she’s feeling herself again.” He nods and squeezes my shoulder before letting go.
Something isn’t sitting right with me.
“You’re not telling me everything. What aren’t you telling me?” My tone is demanding. Kim calls it my Dom voice. Whatever, as long as it works. I need to know.
“She can tell you the rest herself. She’s awake and already feeling much better.”
I didn’t expect this, and I’m jumping to my feet and racing down the hall even as the good doctor is calling out the room number to me. I raise a hand in thanks.
I enter her room, and she opens her eyes and smiles. Some color has returned to her face, and for this I’m grateful. My own face must betray my turmoil because she raises a hand to beckon me forward. “I’m fine, baby, really. Didn’t the doctor tell you?”
I take her hand and marvel in its warmth as I bend to kiss her lips.
“He told me. He also said you’d tell me the rest.” My voice catches. “Please, Kim, please, what is it?”
She raises her other hand and caresses my cheek.
“This isn’t Cara all over again, Michael,” she says, echoing Jack’s sentiments from earlier. “Where’s Luke?”
“Don’t worry about him. He’s with Mary.”
She nods as relief enters her eyes.
“Good, good. I can’t wait to see him.”
“Kim…” My tone is slightly warning. If she doesn’t tell me what else is wrong with her, I’ll go mad.
She smiles widely at me.
“So impatient. Alright, I’ll tell you.” And still, she pauses. I guess for dramatic effect. I’m about ready to scream in a very unmasculine way. “Michael…”
“Yes, Kim.”
“I’m pregnant.”
I laugh, relief sending powerful endorphins to my brain. “Pregnant?”
“Yes, we’re going to have another baby.”
I continue laughing. I couldn’t be happier. Bending to her, I gently help her to a sitting position and hug her to me.
I’ll never let go.
***
Eight and a half months later...
“Push, Kim, push. You’re doing great,” the doctor says.
Kim cries out with the effort and pushes again, just about breaking my hand as she squeezes it for support.
Just like with Luke, I’m in the delivery room with her. Marveling at this woman who is in the process of giving me another child. I’ve never felt such love.
Thank god for my kink. I’d have never met her otherwise.
“That’s it, that’s it. One more push, Kim. You can do it.”
I watch as she bears down and pushes, sweat rolling down her face, hair plastered to her temples. I wish I could do more than just be here for her, offering my silent support and strength. She doesn’t really need it, the strength. I’ve never met a stronger woman. She breathes such joy and life into everything she does.
“Here it comes, Kim… Mike.” He smiles as he catches our newborn, lifting the gooey creature onto Kim’s stomach. “Here’s your daughter. Congratulations.”
I don’t breathe until I hear the first glorious sounds of my baby girl hiccupping her way into her first cries. I laugh, and Kim joins in as the nurse dries her more briskly than I would have liked.
“Hey, Dad,” she says, her face beaming, the pain of childbirth already forgotten.
“Hey, Mom,” I reply, just like we did the first time around.
As our daughter quietens and we kiss, I can’t help but think…
Thank god for kink.
THE END
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