Mind to Bend: Epilogue

I hum as I dig through the kitchen cabinets, pulling out all the items I need to bake for the party this afternoon. The long black island gleams with the rising sun, and I carefully lay each item out. I used to bake with the girls every chance I got, but Lydia is turning thirteen this year, and baking with Mom isn’t cool anymore.

She still wants to eat a double chocolate cake though, and while Shane and I can afford any party she wants, my girl wants something low-key. Well, low-key for a well-off girl who attends an excellent private school.

The backyard of our estate is decorated to perfection, and the gardens and topiaries are trimmed and ready for the dunking booth and games we plan to bring in this afternoon. Despite what our sixteen-year-old Elodie says about it, it will be a great time.

Like always, I think of Tim as I look around. He would have thought this was great work, and I feel that old pang of regret and sadness. I still hate that his life paid for my happiness, but my God, I am happy. I wish I could say I had the same regrets about my father, but I don’t. He deserved what he got. And while there was some heat afterward, Shane had enough money and connections to keep us out of trouble.

After my father and Tim’s missing persons cases died down, Shane and I chose a rocky peak for our home, reminiscent of the castle estate where we fell in love but homier. We built this place from the ground up, and every inch of it is infused with my likes and wants. There isn’t a single place in my life where I feel unfulfilled.

I love so many things other than my husband and daughters. My garden is overflowing with fruits and vegetables, and I know how to grow each right. The August sun is hot and tiring, but I love that too. The sting of sunburn on my cheeks from long days spent enjoying myself is one of the simplest joys in my life.

We’re on summer break at school, and while I miss my kindergarteners, I love having this time with my husband and children when they’ll have me.

I always thought I hated school, but it turns out I hated theology and the feeling of indoctrination. I love learning in a way I could never guess and sharing that with young minds. Shane quit his career as a psychiatrist at my request. I thought the temptation was too much for him, and he needed to apply his talents elsewhere. Shane went back to school with me while I got my master’s of education, and he earned a tech degree. Meaning now he’s a cyberstalker instead of a regular one. It allows him to be a productive member of society and a bit of a creep.

Lydia and Elodie are remarkably well-adjusted kids, and I’m proud we’ve managed a total power exchange relationship their entire lives without them noticing. I never did ask for that safeword, and the way Shane fucks me, to this day, is brutal. Regardless of our unconventional start, we’re a happy family.

I’m whipping up the frosting when Shane walks into the kitchen, looking handsome as ever, maybe more so now that his black hair is sprinkled with grays. A few soft lines crinkle his eyes and the corners of his mouth, proof of our happy life. He steps up behind me, pressing my back to his front. His arms wind around my middle, and I hum with happiness.

“Angel, you’ve made a mess,” he tells me as he dips his finger into the bowl, wipes the topping off on me, and licks the side of my neck. He finishes with a bite, and I shimmy against him and groan.

“GROSS!” Elodie shouts as she walks into the kitchen.

Her sister bounds behind her, hoping to catch a little attention from the coolest girl in the world.

“Mom, I’m thirteen. Tell Elodie I’m old enough to go to the concert with her!” The whine in her voice doesn’t go far in selling the mature thing.

“You are not old enough to go to the concert with her,” Shane answers before I can say anything. “Ellie isn’t either.”

“Dad! We already talked about this. Don’t try to distract me from the fact that you were mauling Mom! You guys are old, and it’s just disgusting. I am going to that concert!”

“I’m forty-four,” I tell the little brat who insists on making me feel ancient.

“Yeah, Mom, you’re old! You guys have been doing it for twenty years. Can you stop?!”

I start to scoop the frosting into the piping bag and plan the design in my head.

“Your father and I are in love, Ellie. You don’t want that to change, do you? There are too many unhappy families out there.”

She groans. “No, I guess I wouldn’t want to change that.”

“Mom, Dad, can you tell us how you met again? It’s so romantic.” Lydia looks up at me, and I point at her father with a meaningful glare as if to say, “you made this shit up; you deal with it.”

“Okay, okay. Well, it was the first day on campus, and your Mom and I were way older than the kids going there. We were late bloomers.”

“Ugh, Dad, the dramatics,” Ellie complains.

“Fine, fine! Well, we had our first class together and I said to her, ‘Are you free after this? I have an idea.’”

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