My anxiety might have ended that night, and I might have almost conquered the nightmares, but it also started my life, feeling complete and happier than I’d ever been before.
“Farewell to the GYMP,” the girls screamed at the end of the song, making me burst out laughing.
What was even funnier were the expressions on his brothers faced as we walked past him, their eyes looking him up and down like he was a freak of nature. “Never had you down as a gimp, man,” Canon muttered, and then looked at me. “And you – it’s always the quiet ones.”
It probably wasn’t the best idea to call it that, but in our defense alcohol does funny things to your brain. What’s also funny was, the GYMP had meant nothing to me because we’d come together naturally. But if the girls wanted to believe our match was down to them, who were we to tell them otherwise. We knew the truth, and that was all that mattered.
The wedding wasn’t about the attention and flash decorations (although we had all of that, too), it was about us. And when the food was served, I grinned over at Gloria, who’d been helping the caterers perfect it for the last couple of days. They didn’t know what was in her rice and peas because she’d ordered them to leave the kitchen while she prepared it, and watching everyone inhale their food and go back for more, I was even happier that I’d gotten her to make our favorites today – Jarrod’s (and now mine, too) birthday meal.
Beside her in its own seat was the last wig that Maude had ever styled for her. After she’d passed away, Gloria had put it in a special Perspex case so that it wouldn’t get ruined. There were so many little additions that our families had done to include her, and that was definitely one of my favorites.
But then my husband gave me one final gift for the night – well, no he did that in the privacy of our hotel room, but this one was the final gift fit for public consumption. He walked up onto the stage and picked up a guitar that I hadn’t noticed on it and nodded at the DJ.
He’s sung to me so many times and I never got tired of it, but hearing him sing Soul To Squeeze by the Red Hot Chili Peppers? It made a perfect day even more perfect which I’d thought was impossible.
And the videos of it went viral, but because people also sent them to me, I got to relive that moment whenever I wanted to.EpilogueJarrodOne year later…
We hadn’t intended on having kids for another five years until Katy was thirty, but when that little test showed the surprise we had coming, we immediately adjusted our plans and celebrated.
What followed, though, was nine months of hell. Morning sickness, cravings (mostly putting pineapple on everything, including pizza which was a hard limit for me), afternoon sickness, food aversions, swollen feet, cankles, tears followed immediately by laughter, the boy-girl argument, the name argument, the gender revealed or kept secret argument, the nursery color scheme argument…
And then her water broke as we’d sat down to lunch with our families, ruining Canon and Major’s shoes and only just missing Duke, who was sleeping by her feet. Proving that she was special, she went against the grain for a first time labor and within an hour our daughter made her way into the world, pissed and letting us know it. Fortunately, our son had made a quieter entrance after we’d arrived at the hospital, and he’d just looked around and had gone back to sleep.
Now I was sitting beside my wife who was sleeping, with my daughter Melody in one arm and my son Barker in the other. The name argument for our daughter had been over in a minute because as soon as I’d suggested Melody, she’d jumped on it. The one that had last four months – and had only ended because she’d seen him and decided it didn’t suit him – was naming our son Anakin because Katy loved Star Wars.
There was no way in hell I’d have called him Anakin, so when she’d said her second choice was Barker, I was relieved that I didn’t have to carry him out to meet our families saying, “Meet Anakin Kline.” I wouldn’t have survived the fallout from it, especially with him having an uncle called Bond.
As soon as Barker had left her womb (literally because he was still dangling by his umbilical cord), she’d told me these were the only two kids she was ever pushing out because, even with them being twins, they were on the long side and had come out at turbo speed with no time for drugs. The nurses kept telling her that she’d forget the pain, but she was adamant that she wouldn’t forget her vagina tearing in two ever. Seeing as how she’d given me a life that was richer than my dreams, I could give her that.