Page 93 of Taking Care of You
I make my way over to him, pick him up and spin him around. He laughs and smiles at me, cheeks red, looking extremely happy. “Congratulations, babe.” He whispers excitedly in my ear when he leans back in for a hug.
“Thank you, creep,” I murmur, throat tight. There’s no one else I’d rather share this moment with. No one more special to be here while I achieved one of my dreams. No one deserves to be at my side more than Jakoby Fisher. My love.
My favorite person.
The one who takes care of me. My Creep.
EPILOGUE
JAKOBY- TEN YEARS AFTER GRADUATION
“Hey, Dad,” I answer while I hustle around in the kitchen. Everyone will arrive soon and I want to make sure we have everything.
“Hey, kid,” he says through the video screen and I roll my eyes. He’s never grown out of the habit of calling me ‘kid’, even though I’m thirty-two. “Sorry we couldn’t make it today. We couldn’t find a flight out. But we’ll be there this weekend. We sent our gift ahead, though.”
I reach over the counter and grab the gift that’s wrapped in bright green paper. I hold it up to the screen. “Got it yesterday. He’ll be so excited.”
My dad smiles, not looking a day over forty.
He’s been doing better after he slowed down working himself into the ground. After the accident, and his promotion to shift manager, he got promoted again to assistant manager of the plant he worked at before he retired about eight years ago. He had a good 401k and they paid him for the sick leave he didn’t take. Which was a lot, since he only took the time off while I was recovering, then he was back on the grind. Now he lives in Florida with his second wife, my stepmom, Emma, who Iabsolutely adore. They were supposed to be here, but with the weather on the East Coast, the flight schedule was sketchy at best. Better they wait and be safe.
My dad and I went to therapy a few times a week until I graduated, then we did online sessions with our therapist when I moved to California. We unpacked a lot and talked through what we wanted for our relationship. And we stuck to it. We talk at least three times a week, if not more. I tell my dad everything. Besides Ethan, he’s my biggest supporter.
Even though I wished she would, my mother refused to get help for her alcoholism. After my dad left her, she lost the house. Last I’d heard, she was at the shelter that Ethan’s parents used to volunteer at. That was about ten years ago. I don’t know where she is now. I’ve tried to look for her, but it just stressed me out, so my therapist suggested I let it go until I could face my feelings about her. After almost fifteen years of no contact, I still haven’t sorted them out yet.
“Good, good,” Dad says, smiling. “I gotta go, kid. The power keeps going in and out and if the storm gets worse, I want to have some battery left.”
I look at him, my stomach in knots. “Maybe you guys should move out here. I don’t like hearing about those hurricanes.”
“Maybe, kid. Love you. Emma says she loves you, and to give Jason and Mya a kiss from her. Give everyone our love.”
Bidding my dad goodbye, I hang up, feeling a little uneasy about him being there with the terrible weather. California has its problems, but none of them are hurricanes.
It’s been ten years since Ethan broke his record at USC, which still stands, though a lot of runners have come close. We decided not to leave California, mainly because his coach was here. But we also fell in love with the state. The beautiful weather, the beaches, all the hidden gems we could explore.
While I stayed at USC for my master’s and doctorate, Ethan stayed so he could go to med school. Yes, my husband, the overachiever, decided to go to med school and train for the Olympics simultaneously. It was nuts that first year. Especially since the Olympics were only eighteen months after we graduated. I barely saw him and when I did, he was exhausted. It was a wonder he made it through his first year of med school.
But it was okay. I didn’t mind because he was following his dreams. I was really happy he chose me to share them with. Even though he was away a lot with his training and med school, he made up for that in a big way. After he won silver in his first Olympics for the two-hundred-meter, he proposed to me after stepping off the podium. It was a wild experience, having strangers congratulate me and want to meet me. But I kind of felt bad for the gold medalist, a Jamaican runner who was phenomenal. Both he and Ethan got endorsement deals, but our engagementwas the talk of the sports world for months afterward.
Armor Crest, who held Ethan’s pro contract, paid for our wedding. They used some of the footage for their inclusion campaign for Pride month.
After the first Olympics, Ethan took a break for a year, and we did the normal married couple thing. Which wasn’t a big change from what we did any other time. But there were no late practices, no early morning drills, and no ice baths after a long session.
At his second Olympics, Ethan achieved his greatest dream of winning gold for the two-hundred-meter dash. And the American team won bronze for the four-by-two meter relay.
Shortly after he came home, Ethan announced his retirement. Even though he only did two Olympics, he said one gold, one silver, and one bronze medal were enough for him.
Now, he’s a pediatrician, like he told me he wanted to be all those years ago.
He’s amazing. He’s so good with kids. After the parents get over being starstruck by an Olympian treating their child, they see how great he is, and most don’t want to leave the practice. He’s expanded to three clinics and rotates through all of them. He sometimes works with Grace, who’s semi-retired, only taking on a few special cases a year. Grace and Frank moved out to California when Frank retired, turning over the bank to a CFO he appointed.
While he’s a busy doctor with a still-growing practice, Ethan always sets aside a weekend where we can all sit and stargaze.
I step outside into the huge back yard— the one I’d begged Ethan for—and see him being chased. Our now five-year-old son, Jason, and three-year-old daughter, Mya, are doing their best to catch him. Jason has better luck because Mya’s little chubby legs can’t carry her too quickly. She tries her best, running and laughing after her big brother and father. She gives up on trying to catch Ethan and jumps on Jason’s back. She squeals and says excitedly, “Got you, Jathen!”
We’re still working on her S sounds.
My little man laughs at his sister. “Got me, Chunk!”
