I nod to Stanley, my driver, as I hop intothe black town car waiting for me on the street.
“Traffic should be light into Jersey Mrs.Pierce, it’s still early,” Stanley says, business as usual.
Yes,Jersey.
“That was the plan,” I smile at him as I pullout my iPad and look over some work; I have an hour to kill.
Stanley pulls the car up out front, noddingpolitely as he opens the door for me. “See you Monday.”
“Yes, thank you,” I respond graciously.
I hurry up the walkway, stick the key in thelock and turn the knob, opening the door to the sounds of splashingand giggling and one very naked baby running along the upstairshallway.
I walk up the staircase in my heels and blackpant suit and am met by a big grin and high-pitched shriek,“Mommy!”
“Hi baby,” I pick up my daughter and swingher in the air as I walk into the bathroom. Ryan is sitting on thetoilet seat, towel-drying our son. Savannah Ray and Sean MerrickJohn were born two years ago on a warm August night, Savannah at11:58 PM, Sean at 12:03 AM.
Not only did Ryan and I get pregnant thefirst time we tried, his super-sperm fertilized two of my eggs,which resulted in two little people with pale blonde hair andcobalt blue eyes; twins with different birthdays.
“Hi.” I lean down and give him a quick peckon the lips.
“Hey beautiful,” he responds as Sean squirmsin his arms.
Ryan and I spent three years in Las Vegas. Weplanned to elope, but my father, of all people, insisted otherwise.To our surprise, he gave us a beautiful wedding, but the biggestshock came when he found out I was pregnant and gifted us mychildhood home. I still get teary-eyed when I think about it. Hewas adamant that the house was too big for just him and it was timefor a family to fill it up again. He said my mother would havewanted it that way.
There was no refusing after that.
We decide to move home six months into mypregnancy. It was time; Ryan was getting tired of the gruelingschedule and physical demands, and I was really starting to missNew York. The law firm I was working at was great, but I felt likeI’d peaked. My days started to become monotonous and I was readyfor a change.
I can still see Ryan kneeling down andkissing my stomach by the window in our bedroom before he left forhis last show; his platinum wedding band contrasting against myblack shirt while the lights of Vegas sparkled in the background.As sexy and alluring as Ryan was then, it’s nothing compared to theway I see him now. He has definitely kept his promise. He’s thefather he never had and the husband his mother was cheated out of.But there will always be a piece of him that’s missing.
I put Savannah in her pajamas, a two-pieceset with little black and pink hearts and the word Diva writtenacross the chest. I pull her hair back and clip it away from herface as she bops and sings in her little tiny voice. We named herafter our mothers; Savannah for my mom, Rayleen for Ryan’s. I pickmy sweet girl up off the changing table and place her on the floor.She darts out of her pink and gray room with the butterfly mobilehanging by the window and then down the stairs, no doubt on amission to find Ryan or Sean or both. I pick up the clothes in thebathroom and wash out the bubbles left in the tub. When I getdownstairs I hear Elmo singing in the living room, and find Seanand Savannah standing on the couch shaking their bon bons withtheir shirts hiked up to their chins.
“Um, Ryan?” I say as he digs in therefrigerator. “I think more than just twins run in yourfamily.”
He looks over and catches a glimpse at whatI’m witnessing. “Oh no.” His face drops and I laugh.
“Don’t worry, I’ll encourage ballet.”
Ryan cocks an eyebrow, “Hip hop forSean.”
“Whatever you want,” I concede. “We just haveto make sure he keeps his clothes on,” I joke.
Ryan just shakes his head amused, then goesback to poking around the fridge.
A moment later Emily teeters through thefront door. She’s seven months pregnant with her third child. She’sfinally found her calling, motherhood. Together, she and Alex haveAlyssa and Aaron and I think they’re naming this one Amelia. Iasked her if she was planning to start a reality TV show.
“This may be my third kid, but I will neverknow how you carried two of these things at the same time.” Shekisses me hello, and as soon as Sean and Savannah see her they makea mad dash across the living room, screaming and giggling for theiraunt. Ryan walks over with two juice boxes in one hand and a lightjacket in the other. He’s dressed in jeans and a black sweater witha pin-striped button up underneath; the shirt tails are hanging outand the sleeves are rolled up his forearms.
It’s October 15th, Ryan’s birthday andalthough this is supposed to be a happy day, there’s always amelancholy undertone. We kiss Sean and Savannah goodbye and leavethem in Emily’s capable hands. We get into our car and drivequietly to the cemetery with Ryan’s thoughts far, far away.
We park and walk up the grassy hillside toSean’s grave. The weather is on the cold side, but the sun is stillout and the colors of the leaves are just starting to change.There’s a bouquet of flowers and a few small baseball figurineslying by his headstone. After Sean’s death Rayleen hit rock bottom.She spent years in and out of rehab and therapy trying to cope withthe loss. It was only after the twins were born that she started tosomewhat manage her life. She attends AA and hasn’t had a drink innearly a year. She visits every day. Every, single, day, she comesto Sean’s grave. And now that I have children of my own I cansympathize with her grief.
Ryan kneels down on the grass and it’s thesame each year; a purge of tears. My heart splinters every time Iwitness it. It’s the only time he allows himself to cry for Sean. Iencourage him to visit more often, but he says once a year is allhe can take.
When he’s finally finished he rises and I hughim tightly.
Then we stand silently, hand in hand, lookingover Sean’s grave. Ryan snivels, “When I was eight I got in sometrouble at school.” I look up at him surprised; he usually doesn’tsay much when we’re here. “For two weeks they made me eat lunch bymyself and stay in at recess, which is pretty devastating whenyou’re eight years old,” he takes a deep breath, “but Sean snuck inthe classroom every day just so I didn’t have to be alone. He brokeall the rules even then.” A tear rolls down his cheek. “That’s howI try to remember him, an innocent eight year old kid who’s stillmy brother.”