Life’s Story: Bonus

5 Years Later


“Zander! If you’re going to make a fort out of the sofa cushions, put them back when you’re done!” I yell.

Alexander walks into the room and smiles at me smugly. “What makes you think I’m the culprit?”

“You are the only one who does this,” I respond.

“Blame the monsters,” he says, using the nickname he frequently used when referring to our children.

“And who can pick up the cushion and who can’t?” I retort.

“Hm…good point, but who am I to deny my children happiness?” he shrugs.

“Cushions back, now,” I say, and continue to fix dinner.

I think about the past few years I’d spent with Alexander. After I’d been released from the hospital, we went back to his father’s hotel to get ourselves together. We moved to Celia City and found a nice house. I went to college and double-majored in child psychology and human resources. We got married two years ago and had twin boys whom we named after my dad and brother.

They are just as rowdy as Alexander, but surprisingly I have grown accustom to this kind of behavior. Caramel has grown out of her puppy years; however, she is just as small as she was the day I got her.

There are still times we think of that day my mother was killed. Neither of us heard of, nor went to her funeral. Most of the time we try not to dwell on it.

“Mommy! Eric stole my toy!”

“Daniel hit me, Mommy!”

I turn around and see my twin boys staring at me with their father’s eyes.

“What did I say about you two picking on each other?”

They pout and glance at each other.

“Sorry,” they simultaneously say to each other.

“Good. Now go wash your hands. It’s dinner time,” I say. They ran off to the bathroom as Alexander walks to me.

“Mommy’s words are final,” he says, kissing my cheek.

“Of course,” I say. “Why would it be otherwise?”

“No reason.” He hugs me tightly. “I love that about you.”

“What?” I ask.

“The way you know what you want and that you know how to get it.”

I smile. “I learned that from dealing with you, Zander.”

“What does that mean?” he says with a smile.

“It means,” I say looking at him, “You are childish and stubborn.”

“But?” he presses.

“But…you are caring, honest, brave, strong and passionate.”

“Don’t forget smart.”

“Smart? I don’t think so,” I joke.

“Hey,” she says, as he fake pouts.

“See. Childish,” I say, poking his nose.

He laughs and I smile.

“I love you, baby,” he says.

“I love you, too,” I reply.

“Ew!” I hear the twins squeal.

Alexander laughs at them as I blush and say, “To the table!”

I watch as they run to the table and sit in their proper chairs. Alexander helps me carry the plates to the table. When he sits next to the boys, I smile.

“What?” he asks, looking at me and mimicking my smile.

“Nothing,” I say, taking my seat next to him.

“Liar,” he says, and he is right. I had a family again…and I felt happy.


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