Page 21 of Only Me
Epilogue Two
Five Years Later - Zeke
My last move had been much easier. But a duffle bag slung over my shoulder won’t cut it with a wife and two kids.
I slug another box from the house to the truck we rented for the day.
“I told you we should have hired movers.” Casey leans back in her chair on the porch; feet kicked up on the railing as she watches me traipse in and out of the house, sweating my ass off. I took my shirt off to torture her.
“We don’t need movers. We’ve got a house full of teens.” How was I to know they’d all disappear the minute I mentioned helping.” Sweat rolls down my temple and I wipe it away hastily.
“Um, they’re teenagers. You expected them to help? Even if they had stuck around today, they would have done more harm than good.” Casey grips her belly and winches in pain.
“Are you having a contraction?” I leap up the steps and crouch before her in no time. “Do I need to get the bag?”
“No, just an elbow to the kidney.” With a deep breath, she relaxes back into the chair again a serene expression settling over her beautiful face. “This one is even more active than Willow. We’re going to be in trouble.”
I grin so widethatmy cheeks hurt. “Aw, come on. By number three we’ve got this parenting thing down.”
Casey chuckles and shakes her head, obviously thinking about how full of shit I am. “Keep telling yourself that, Farm Boy.”
Our first, Jackson, lulled us into a false sense of security. He slept through the night by six weeks, never got more than the occasional cold or ear infection, and willingly ate everything we put on a plate in front of him. We thought this parenting thing was so much easier than everyone made it out to be.
Then we had Willow.
She’s a little mini version of Casey. All crazy red hair and fiery attitude. She’s a three-year-old dictator. Hell, Jackson listens to her more than he does us some days. We hadn’t planned on having a third yet, but I fucking hate condoms and pulling out, and Casey hated the birth control she had gone on for a brief time after Willow was born. So, it was bound to happen sooner or later.
“Okay, back to work macho man. Lots more boxes for you to move before Zsa Zsa and Butch bring the kids back.” My wife shoos me off the porch. I think she likes watching me sweat and lift things.
“Hey, Zeke, need some help?” Tim, our first resident after inheriting the house, comes ambling up the walkway dressed in skinny jeans and the pride version of the Pink Pony T-shirt we sold last year at the pride parade. He’s still a skinny guy, even now at twenty-one, but he’s grown four inches in height and since putting things with his father behind him, has blossomed into an awesome young man.
“Tim, you weren’t supposed to be back for a week.” I take three big steps and wrap him in a big hug. Jackson may have been our first baby, but Casey and I both think of Tim as our first kid. He lived with us until going to college three years ago and will be taking over as house parent for us now that we are moving out. “What happened to finals?”
“Done. My four-point-oh remains intact; I have officially graduated with a degree in social work.” I swear he grows another inch before my eyes solely from the pride in those words. It hadn’t been an easy road for Tim by any means. But he worked his ass off to get scholarships and jobs to help support himself through college since he refused to let us pay for it. “Figured you could use some help getting your crap out of my new room.”
Casey waddles up beside us, giving Tim a hug and a kiss on the cheek as she laughs. “You came at the perfect time. This old man looks like he’s about to drop.”
“Who are you calling old man? We’re the same age.” I sling my arm around my wife and kiss the top of her head. I can’t be this close to her and not touch her in some small way.
“Semantics.”
Tim smiles at both of us, so big I can see all the way back to the fake tooth the dentist used to replace the one his dad knocked out of his mouth that night he came to us. “It’s so good to see you two. In college, I was surrounded by so many meaningless hookups, it’s hard to remember that true love does exist out there.”
Casey and I look at each other, that familiar warmth spreading through my chest.
“It’s good to see you too Tim. We appreciate you taking over for us here. Couldn’t have asked for a better person to take on the role.” When Casey and I decided it was time to move our family out of the Safe Harbor House, we knew we would need someone special to keep it going.
Thankfully Tim agreed to take the position of house parent. “Are you kidding, this is an amazing opportunity. I have so many ideas for programs we can start. Group counseling sessions and classes to help parents through the coming out process with their teens.” Excitement sparks in his eyes, and beside me, I knew Casey would be feeling the same sense of pride that fills me.
“Simmer down, nerd.” Claire, the second LGBT teen we took in just months after Tim arrived on our doorstep, saunters up next, hugging her foster brother before turning to give us hugs as well. “Okay, put me to work. I have a manicure appointment for seven, so you only have me until then.”
“You’re going to help us move?” Claire is the girliest girl known to humankind, but also tough. You had to be when you were a trans teen in an area of the country that didn’t typically take too kindly to anyone even a little bit different.
“I didn’t wear yoga pants out of the house for my health.” She sneered down at the casual clothes as if they have personally offended her. “Besides, I brought some friends to help.”
Casey and I turn in the direction of some movement down the street and gasp. Thirty people walk up the sidewalk in our direction. I recognize some immediately. The teens we are currently caring for, ones that had only stayed a short time before moving on or going back home. The ones that had stayed long enough they felt like our own children. But there are others as well, people closer to my age I don’t recognize.
“Oh my god.” Casey sobs, her hand flying to cover her mouth as she tries and fails to control her emotions. I pull her in tighter to my side. “Zeke, Luther and Murray helped them.” She points to several of the people in the crowd, introducing me around as the group gathers. We both turn back to Tim.
“How did you do this?” Tears stream down my wife’s face, and even though I hate to see her cry in any circumstance, I know these are the best kind of tears.
With a casual shrug, Tim shoves his hands into his pockets. “When you got the official nonprofit sanction, you asked me to start a Facebook page. People started messaging, saying they used to live here with your uncles. So, I started a private group where we could all talk about our experiences, and the older generation of Safe Harbor residents could connect with the current generation. When they heard you were moving, I asked them to help.”
A man may be a few years older than us, mid-thirties, I’m guessing, steps forward. “Both your uncles were great men. They saved all our lives, and now you’ve carried on their legacy. The least we can do is move a few boxes.”
One by one, the crowd moves to the house, and all we can do is stand on the sidewalk mouths hanging open as they pack the truck in less than an hour. It takes a little longer to unpack at the new house two miles away, but by the time night falls and Zsa Zsa and Butch show back up with the kids, we’re all moved in and throwing a hell of a cookout in the backyard. Soon dancers from the Pink Pony show up as well. The neighbors probably have no clue what hit them.
I may not have known my uncle, but being surrounded by the people they helped, the misfit band of family they put together, and my own family I’ve built with Casey, I suddenly feel like Murray is everywhere. I send him a silent thank you, for giving me this life.
