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EPILOGUE—SISTER SASS
On paper, Jester andI don’t make much sense. Beyond the age gap and our very different childhoods, we’re both stubborn as mules. We like to poke other people yet despise getting poked back. We also carry a lot of baggage filled with disappointment, pain, and distrust. We ought to butt heads nonstop.Yet, we rarely do.
I learn early on in our relationship to ask for help. No more suffering in silence like when my evil nieces locked me in the closet and I refused to call anyone. These days, I’m willing to toss aside my ego to ensure Jester and I get the best life.
That comes in handy during the planning of our home on Tobosa Road.
Initially, our housebuilding process goes well. Jester decides to submit to my desire to live closer to my friends while he can walk a whole block over to spend time with the founders. However, we hit a wall once we start designing the house.
Jester thinks every design element looks weird when we go to stores or look online. The floors are too dark or too light or too medium. The faucets look all wrong. Every light fixture is ugly. Nothing appeals to him.
Not that I have a better imagination. Though I see things I like at people’s houses, I can’t mash those ideas into a single design.
Jester and I can’t even decide on the number of bedrooms.
“Two is fine,” he says.
“What if you knock her up with a second kid?” Aqua asks Jester while Jelly Bean nods. “Four bedrooms is best.”
“No,” he says, getting edgy.
“We’re on a tight timetable,” I remind him and rub my growing belly. “We need to decide.”
“Then you decide.”
Normally, I’d jump into the lead role, but I don’t know the right answer. There are too many choices. I’m nearly ready to replicate my parents’ house to avoid deciding.
“Oh, no,” I reply. “If our house turns out ugly, I can’t handle the shame. You do it.”
In the end, we ask Bomber and Pumpkin to design our house. My brother promises to make it sufficiently butch.That gets a chuckle out of a grumpy Jester.
My sexy man often becomes sullen during our first year together. He worries about my pregnancy. He’s paranoid about the baby being a boy and seeming too similar to Lando. Or maybe not similar enough. Jester also fears having a daughter.He can’t decide on anything.
Papa Bear is the one to sit us down and explain how we’ll never finish the house before the baby is born.
“You need to set up a nursery at the townhouse,” he explains and glances at the upstairs loft bedroom. “Bomber and Pumpkin are making choices for the house, but they have to run everything by you first.”
“Why can’t they treat us like stupid children?” I ask, making my dad grin. “I thought building a house would be easy. It’s just a roof and some rooms and maybe where to stick the fridge. But it’s a lot of stuff like outlet placements and how a door needs to open. I can’t even with all that shit.”
Jester just sulks, overwhelmed with life. All he really wants is to hang out with me and let the world pass us by. Before prison, he didn’t take charge of much. In prison, he did as he was told. As much as he wants a kid and a house, he wasn’t ready for so many choices.
“The baby will be fine here,” Papa Bear promises. “They don’t even crawl for like eight months. By then, you’ll be moved into your house.”
Jester calms down after Papa Bear breaks it down for him. He rests his hand on my bump and breathes easier.
“I want this kid to have a good life,” he murmurs, revealing the fears he hides from most people. “None of that bouncing around between dumbass parents or feeling unsafe. I want this one to grow up like you did.”
“He will,” I promise and caress his hand. “I’m going to be a great mom like Betty Boop. I demand no less from myself.”
Motherhood is a choice I embrace fully. I just decide I’m going to do a good job and refuse to allow fear to stand in my way.
