Epilogue

Six years later…

“Okay, but we have to take our time. It has to be special,” I say, spreading paper and crayons for Jay. He just turned five and has officially landed in the question everything phase. He still has those chubby cheeks, but more and more, I see Issa’s smile. I lean over the table by his side.

“Okay, Daddy,” he says, and my heart melts. I never thought I could love anyone this deeply, but this little boy proved otherwise.

“Do you know what you want to make?”

“A picture.”

I nod and stand straighter. “Okay, that’s cool.”

“What are you doing, dad?”

I rub my chin and tilt my head.

“A poem, I think.”

“Why do you always write mommy poems?”

I close my eyes for a second, and the warmth of her smile permeates my memory. Why do I always write poems? I’m tempted to answer his question with a question, but I think about it instead.

“Well, son, words mean something. I guess for me, expressing my love is important. There’s something about bleeding on a page that allows me freedom. It’s also something I’ve been doing for a long time.”

“Gross. Bleeding on a page?”

I laugh and shake my head. “Well, not literally. It’s an idiom. Figurative language. I’m not actually bleeding, but when I write, it feels like I am. Make sense?”

He’s drawing a large rectangle with the edges uneven and curved at some points.

“I guess.” He shrugs and picks up a green crayon. “Joseph fell at recess yesterday and skinned his knee. He was crying, and he did bleed, Dad. He had to go to the nurse.”

“Man, that’s too bad. It sucks when you skin your knee, but let’s get back on track. Forget about blood. It’s Mom’s special day, and we want her to feel our love, right, little man?” I clap, and he smiles big, displaying his missing front tooth. That was an ordeal. Normally, Issa isn’t squeamish, but hearing her baby, as she said, cry when I tried to pull his tooth was a lot. We had him eating apples and tried our best to work it out on its own, but when I tried to loosen it myself, she was not having it.

It ended up falling out as he ate lunch at school, and he swallowed it. He cried all afternoon, worried the tooth fairy wouldn’t come since he had no tooth, so my wife, being the amazing woman she is, concocted an email from said tooth fairy, congratulating him on the lost tooth and saying his file was noted and they would still be by to see him after he was asleep.

“Yeah!” he screams with a laugh, and I cheer.

“Alright, so you draw your picture. I’m going to write my poem, and then we’ll make breakfast,” I say. “But we have to be very quiet so we don’t wake mommy before it’s time. Cool?” I place my finger over my mouth. The kid’s volume is set for loud and very loud, and I don’t want to wake her up before we’re ready.

He nods aggressively, and we start working.

The life Issa and I have built is probably one of my greatest accomplishments. Our families get along great. It was a little awkward at first when the guy they knew as the best man showed up, but we ironed out all those kinks. Her dad made it clear as long as I was good to his daughter, we’d have no problems, and I respected that.

No surprise, I couldn’t wait for Issa to be my wife. So, for our six-month anniversary, I booked us a trip to London, and we stayed at the same hotel. I proposed that night over dinner and candles with just the two of us. That trip really solidified us. It’s where she stopped worrying about everyone else and gave us a shot. It was the most amazing time, so every year, we go back to celebrate in the city she fell in love with me.

I pull out my own piece of paper and begin to pour my heart out. This part never gets old. You’d think after all the words I’ve used to express my love, I’d run out, but it’s the opposite. I could write hundreds of letters and notes and never grow tired. She really is my one.

“Dad, when the baby gets here, can we play?”

I look into those eyes that are a replica of mine and smile.

“Well, remember what we talked about last night at dinner?” I ask, putting my pen down.

He nods, but I repeat the conversation anyway. “Babies are fragile, so it will be a while before you can play with him or her. For now, this is a celebration for Mommy because she’s about to go through a long and special process. It takes nine months to grow a baby, and a lot is happening to her body. So we want to remind her how much we love her and spoil her today,” I say.

I also have the immediate family coming over later so we can announce it: my parents, my sisters, Issa’s parents, Marissa and Derrek. Derrek is still around, and they’re practically married, just not on paper. I want us all together to celebrate.

“Okay.” He nods and moves back to his picture, which resembles a lopsided rectangle with a triangle on top. He has Issa’s artistic skills; she can’t draw or color in the lines either.

I have a whole plan for Issa today. After we make our gifts—his picture and my poem—we’re going to make a breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and turkey sausage. We’ll serve her breakfast in bed and hand off our gifts. She’s been going on and on about the new author she likes, so I got a gift basket of her entire catalog and a bouquet of her favorite tulips.

I’ll take Jay and give her the morning to relax, read, listen to music, whatever she wants to do. Everybody should be here around lunchtime, and I’m having it catered with her favorites. Sammie still has his restaurant, and we’re actually really good friends now, so he compiled a menu that I know she will love.

At some point, she’ll mention it on our channel. I say our because we do shoot some family content, although we aren’t a full vlogging influencer family and Jay is almost never included. When he’s old enough to make a choice, we might create something, but for now, there’s no need.

He continues to draw, and I write my poem. Once we’re done, we move to make breakfast.

Jay is the best kitchen helper. He’s eager and ready to hand off whatever you’re missing. I do the mixing of the pancake batter, but I let him hold the handle so he feels like he mixed it. By the end, the kitchen is filled with a sweet and savory aroma, and I place everything on the tray.

“Okay, you have your picture?”

“Yep.”

He takes the picture as though it’s made of glass, and I take the food tray. I have the gift basket and flowers hidden in the closet because I knew my hands would be full.

When I push the door open with my shoulder, my breath catches. I’ve seen this woman most days for the better part of six years, so it makes no sense to feel like my chest splits open or my stomach drops. But here I am, after all these years later, feeling like I’m about to explode with love. She’s twisted in the sheets, and her bonnet has slipped off her head. Her hair is wild and splayed on the pillow. One arm is tossed over her face, and the other is spread out parallel.

“Issa,” I say as we walk up slowly.

She shifts to her side before she’s blinking up at me. This is why it was important for us to be quiet. Issa is a light sleeper, especially since she had Jay. She just doesn’t sleep hard. I think it might be from waking up so often to nurse when he was a baby. She releases a breath and smiles.

“What is this?”

“Look, Mommy! Look.”

Jay runs to her side and hands over his picture. It’s our house with us all lined up in front. Issa’s first pregnancy wasn’t a breeze, which is why I want to make sure she has everything she needs to feel good.

“Oh my goodness, this is beautiful!” Issa says in an overly excited voice.

“I’m going to hang this up.” Jay is smiling, and I walk up with the tray.

“Tyson.”

She’s giving me big eyes and a smile, and I fucking melt. I swallow hard and kneel at her side.

“Hey, no tears. We just wanted to show how special you are to us.”

My words don’t stop the glossiness of her eyes, and I shake my head.

“Come on, Issa.”

She wipes in a fast fury, but they still fall.

“Tyson, this is so sweet.”

“Wait, one more thing,” I say, jogging to the closet. I grab the basket and flowers, and when I turn, she gasps before she screams.

“Oh my gosh, Tyson!”

I chuckle, and so does Jay, the cute kid giggles that make you laugh.

“You got all the books.”

She wipes her eyes, and I kiss her forehead. “I did.” She loves her books, so when I was thinking of gifts to make her feel good, her favorite author’s series was at the top. That and food are her top joys in life.

She spends the next few minutes going over the books. “Okay, you should eat before it gets cold.”

She looks down at her plate and then back at me. “Syrup?”

“Right, be right back.”

I jog to the kitchen and shuffle through the cabinets. I look in the back and off the side. No syrup. Shit! I blow out a breath and jog back to the bedroom. I was so busy worrying about the books that I missed this detail.

“Okay, change of plans. We’re out of syrup. I’m going to put your food up to keep it warm. You can jump in the shower, and Jay and I will be back before you’re out with syrup so you can enjoy your breakfast.”

I smile with my hands out. I hate that this didn’t flow like I planned, but we can work with it. The grocery store is right down the street.

She gives me a grimace. “I can eat it dry.”

“No, today is all about you. We’re going right down the street. It’ll be five minutes.”

This is exactly why I’m doing this. She’ll accept less, but she deserves everything. Sure, pancakes can be eaten dry, but I want everything to be perfect, and I know she likes to flood her pancakes with syrup.

She hesitates, but I shake my head. “Five minutes. Jay, run and get dressed.”

Before I’m finished, Jay is running to his room to change out of his pajamas. I duck into the closet and change into joggers and a hoodie.

I come back, kiss Issa on the forehead, and take her tray. “Five minutes.” I don’t wait for a response and jog to put the plate in the oven.

“Ready!” Jay says, running into the kitchen in a blue and white short set with white shoes. I’m always so surprised he can dress this well so young. He never went through a period where he dressed himself and wasn’t stylish, no mismatched socks or wild pattern combinations. I think he gets his style from me.

I’m walking next to Jay, who was adamant about pushing the shopping cart even though we came for one thing. It didn’t hurt anything, so when he turned those eyes on me, I folded and told him it was okay. It’s still early morning, so the aisles are vacant sans the employees stocking shelves.

“We’re just going to be in and out, okay, buddy?”

“Yep,” he says with a grin so wide. He’s tall for his age, but still, the basket is barely above his head. I’ve been keeping my hands free, so if I need to jump in to grab it before he crashes into something, I can.

We roll down the aisle, and it’s like the angels sing and a bright light shines down. The syrup is pristine and shimmering with its dark brown reflection. I clap my hands. “Okay!” I shouldn’t be so excited about syrup, but I want to get back before Issa is out of the shower.

Just as I’m walking up, the basket’s left wheel shifts, and the sound of it turning catches my ear. I’m not sure where this dude came from, but the basket is on track to fuck his knees up.

“Oh, aye! Watch out,” I say, jumping to grab the basket before impact. I stop it just short and release a breath.

“Sorry, man. I was letting little man push the basket, and it got away,” I say with a smile, looking over to Jay. He’s standing there, looking like a perfect mix of Issa and me.

After a few seconds, I look up when I don’t hear a response. When our eyes connect, I take a step back. He’s older now, as am I. His beard has some light gray strands, and his eyes seem sharper than I remember.

I dip my eyebrows low and put my hands on my hips.

He must recognize he’s staring because he clears his throat and stands straighter before his eyes dart to my side and land on Jay.

I grip Jay’s shoulder and move him closer. He closes his eyes before he opens them back on me.

“No problem.” As he speaks, a woman pushing a basket with a baby strapped inside rolls to his side.

“Tyree, did you find the pancake mix?”

I swallow and stand straighter. He clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah—right here.” He lifts the box in his hands, and she smiles. She starts talking about the next item they need and turns her basket around. There’s now only the three of us left in the aisle, and he’s still looking from me to Jay and back again. Finally, he nods a few times and dips out of the aisle, disappearing in the direction of the woman.

“Dad, who was that?”

I stare at the empty spot he was just in and run my hand over my face.

“Just someone I used to know.”

“Why was he looking at us like that?”

I turn back to Jay and toss the syrup in the cart. “One day, when you’re old enough, I’ll tell you about the time I stole the sun.”

The end!