Hey Kittens... first some quick replies:
JustSkipIt -- Glad to have pleasantly surprised you. I have no intention of abandoning any of my fics currently posted. It's just a matter of everyone being patient with me as I work on them and try to create half decent updates.
Stroke of Luck -- Wow... what an effusive response. I'm glad that you like the story so much. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. Also glad you felt you could intimately relate to W/T... although... we may have treaded into the territory of "overshare"
Always E -- Dude! Good to see you! You have to check out my new site
Shadows and Light! I think you'll really like it. Especially my blog!! Anyway, on to actually responding to your post.... This is only the second time I have written in first person... the last one being my fic "Time Quake"... which I think you mentioned liking.... something about it being your favorite... I'm not sure
Of course, this is waaay different b/c this time I'm writing from Willow's POV instead of an outsider's... This fic actually started out as a monologue idea I had been playing around with... and then it just took off and next thing I knew... it had turned into yet another W/T story... it's really weird how this seems to continually happen to me. C'est la vie... I guess. How's the wife and furry kids? Take care!
Okay... I am sorry it's taken me a few days to post this... but I am having some difficulty with this dern epilogue... which is why I have chosen to break it into two parts... this post being Part "A"... and the subsequent update... to be posted once it is finished... being Part "B".... gosh aren't I clever.... sigh...
So here is Part "A". Enjoy!
And Tara was there on Monday. And the Monday after that... and the Monday after that. She was there with me when Josh was finally diagnosed with Ataxic Cerebral Palsy, the rarest, and thankfully mildest, type of CP, affecting his depth perception and balance. He would still be able to walk, but always with some difficulty, almost like being in a permanent state of vertigo. His doctor assured me though that because Joshua had never, and would never, know anything different he would most likely find a way to adapt to his ailment and not be troubled by it. Still, the news that my son had yet another diagnosis, yet another disability, caused me to fall into a moderate depression where I most likely would have stayed, if it had not been for Tara's constant presence, her reassurance and her attentiveness to both myself and my son.
She was there when my four year-old Joshua uttered his first word, surpising us all at that Thanksgiving's dinner. He had been contemplating his plate in front of him, filled with thinly sliced bits of turkey, a dollop of cranberry sauce and a small serving of mashed potatoes when he softly stated, "soup." I remember freezing mid-action, my turkey-filled fork half-way to my mouth, and looking at him next to me with wide, almost disbelieving, eyes.
"What, honey?" I had asked, unsure of my own hearing. He was silent again, and I started to think it had been my imagination when Tara spoke up from his other side, "What did you say, J.J.?", she urged. Everyone at the table was still, my parents, friends and a few other relatives, all sat with breaths held, waiting.
Agonizingly slow seconds passed until quietly, Josh spoke again, "soup," he reiterated, his face pensive as he stared at his food. My hand shot up and clasped over my mouth, even as tears started to well at the rims of my eyes.
"I think he wants soup," Tara announced through a watery smile, her eyes misting over as well. I swallowed the emotional lump in my throat even as my tears finally spilled over onto my cheeks, "Is that right, baby? You want soup?" I asked, trying to suppress the hiccoughs caused by the overwhelming rush of happy-tears. Joshua nodded his head once in affirmation. "Soup it is!" My mother exclaimed, leaping out of her seat, also crying. "Today, J.J., my darling, you can have whatever you ask for!" She went on, practically diving for the kitchen door to begin making the now sacred soup.
Everyone at the table broke into applause and cheers, I leaned over and kissed Joshua soundly on the cheek, my tears falling onto his face, he wiped them away with an annoyed expression which only caused me to laugh at his cuteness, and apparent dismissal of this historic moment. Tara ran her fingers affectionately through his hair, kissing the top of his head, and then leaned over and up to quickly capture my lips, my son patiently waiting for his soup beneath us.
My father raised his glass, and everyone at the table followed suit, including Tara and I once we had parted. "To soup!" he proudly toasted. "To soup!" We all echoed, laughter and glee bubbling out of us, even as we clinked our glasses against one another and drank deeply in commemoration.
When I realized a few weeks into our relationship that she really was there to stay, I fell in love with her very quickly, finally allowing my mind to accept what my heart already knew, she was the one. It was 78 Mondays later, because yes I actually did keep track, when Tara asked me to marry her. It was a strangely-timed proposal, considering that at that moment I had been on my hands and knees, scrubbing the bathtub.
I was just about to apply another liberal coating of Comet when I heard Tara speaking to Joshua down the hall in the living room. I paused in my chores and tuned in to the conversation. "Josh, I need your advice," I heard her say, not even attempting to speak in a low voice, so I knew I was meant to hear. I imagined my son sitting on the floor, playing with his new Tonka truck, primarily oblivious to Tara's earnest request, perhaps glancing up at her once to show that he had heard her.
"I want to ask your mommy something, but I'm not sure how she will react," she went on, my ears perked up even more. "You see these papers here in my hand? Well, if your mommy and I fill them out and sign them and turn them in with some money, then it means that I could be your mommy too." I gasped, and almost put my Comet-covered rubber-gloved hand to my mouth in shock, stopping myself just in time. I continued to listen, even more intently. "Well, not your mommy so much as... your daddy...without being a daddy, because I'm not a boy, but...maybe like, your Tara-daddy. Taddy."
I smiled at the adorable name, and giggled a little, despite my stomach doing jumpy flip-flops. "But, I'm nervous about asking your mommy about these papers because what if she says 'no'? I mean, we aren't even married. So I was going to ask her to marry me too--" Hearing those words I ripped my gloves from off my hands and bolted out of the bathroom down the hall into the living room, tackling her on the couch and wrapping my arms around her neck, kissing her deeply, interrupting her as she was saying, "...because I love your mommy with all of my--" Our lips broke apart with a pop, "heart," she finished. We kissed again, deeper this time; I thrust my tongue into her mouth possessively, tasting her now familiar sweet taste. After several long moments, I drew back and gazed at her wistfully, my forehead resting gently on hers. "And I can't imagine my life without her, Joshua, or without you," she went on, still keeping up the pretense of speaking to my son, even though she was looking deeply into my eyes, her voice soft and sincere, "and I just hope that when I ask her... she says yes..." I gazed at her as she let the sentence hang mid-air. I brought my hand up to cup her face, caressing her cheek with my thumb.
"Willow, will you marry me?" she whispered, "will you let me adopt Josh?"
I took only a second to pause before answering, "yes."
"To which one?" she asked her eyes wide and hopeful.
"Both," I grinned, unable and unwilling to suppress any shred of my happiness, "yes to both!"
"Yes?"
"Yes." I affirmed.
"YES!!!!" She exclaimed, lifting us both off the sofa and spinning me around in her arms, she kissed me soundly before pulling away and picking Josh up from the floor, away from his toys, "She said, 'Yes!'" Tara laughed, kissing his forehead. Joshua protested in her grip, "car", he whined adorably, not happy with his play being interrupted. "Oh, I'm sorry, baby", she apologized with a giggle, setting him back down to play. She turned back to me, taking my hands in her own, "I love you," she said reverently. "I love you, too," I replied.
She reached into her pocket and fumbled a little, finally pulling out a small velvet box and holding it up between us. "For you," she said, "for saying 'yes'." I accepted her offering, opening the case with a soft creak; inside sat a simple golden band with a small diamond on top glittering back at me. My heart caught in my throat, knowing that even this humble representation of her love and commitment must have set her back at least a paycheck. Not-for-profit organizations generally can't afford to pay much, and Easter Seals was no exception. Neither of us was by any means wealthy, and I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that she had spent such a sum on me.
With shaky fingers she reached out and plucked the ring from where it was nestled, sliding it onto the ring finger of my left hand, lifting it to her lips and kissing it softly. I gently pulled my hand from hers, resting my palm again upon her cheek, she closed her eyes, leaning into the touch. “Thank you,” she sighed, opening her eyes again and gazing deeply into my own. We kissed again, just as deeply, but with less urgency than before.
We were married, or as married as two women living in this country can be, in a small ceremony in the park the following spring. J.J. was our little ring-bearer, and did a commendable job, walking on his own the entire length of the make-shift isle, only teetering a twice, and even then only slightly, which was amazing considering that we were on grassy, uneven ground. Once he had made it to where Tara and I stood, (I in a soft yellow sundress with a small garland of flowers in my hair, she in a light blue, embroidered kurta shirt and bodhi pants, her hair pulled back in a long French braid), my father held him for the majority of the ceremony until it was time for the rings. My dad tried to pull the pillow that the rings were tied to from his small hands, but he wouldn’t let him have it. “No, no,” he said, “Taddy, get.” Everyone laughed sweetly at his well-meaning defense. Tara walked over to him and gently took the small pillow, kissing his forehead and touching his nose, “thank you, handsome,” she smiled. The rest of the ceremony went on with only one other hitch, that is, Tara and I to each other.
After what seemed like years of filling out papers and jumping through bureaucratic hoops, Tara was finally able to adopt Joshua as her own. My son was now officially “our” son. Tara and I couldn’t have been happier.
My degree in Computer Science was fundamental in my ultimate ability to finally start pulling in some very decent money. Tara had been promoted to Program Manager over the day care at Easter Seals, and her take-home pay received a satisfying increase as well. Not a tremendous amount, but enough that with our shared incomes, we were able to buy a small house in the suburbs near my parents and live in relative comfort.
The years slipped by with easy grace. Tara continued her work at Easter Seals while I settled into a comfortable job with a local corporation as their lead IT technician. Joshua grew older, but maintained his childlike mentality. His doctor estimated that when he reached his full potential, J.J. would be between the mental age of four and five years old. Imagine, being eternally four… sometimes I envied his everlasting innocence, mostly I found myself loving him even more.
It was amazing to me how much love the human heart can hold and sustain for infinitely long periods of time. I loved Tara with all of my heart, and yet I still loved my son with all my heart… and more.
Although we were incredibly happy together, and our relationship was sound and in no danger of falling apart, I could tell that some part of my lover was still unfulfilled. When I’d look into her eyes, I’d see the hollow place, up in the right hand corner, and I knew that there were things she still longed to do, and perhaps could have done, if Josh and I weren’t in the picture. I’d ask her about it and she’d shrug it off saying, “Nothing, nothing. I love you, baby, and Josh. I can’t imagine my life without you both. I’m happy.”
I continued to pressure her for a real answer until one day, when Joshua was twelve, she finally fessed up. “Sometimes I still think about Greenwich Village,” she admitted, “and I wonder, ‘what if’? But then I look at you, and J.J. and I think about how much I love you both, and how happy we are, and I realize this is all that I need.” She leaned in and kissed me tenderly on the lips. As she pulled away again, I regarded her sadly.
“But not all you want,” I said, trying to hide the emotion suddenly forming a lump in my throat.
She took my hands and held them to her chest, her blue eyes gazing deeply into mine. “I had a dream of Greenwich Village, but I set it aside in favor of something I never could have dreamed of. Something so much better.”
“But you still want something more,” I challenged; I could read her too well.
“I do,” she confessed, “but with you.”
“What?” The word practically stuck in my throat.
She lifted my hands to her lips, kissing my knuckles, before lowering them again and cradling them against her chest. “Do you think Joshua would like having,” she broached slowly, “a baby brother?”
****
To Be Concluded...
Edited by: DarkWiccan at: 5/10/04 2:11 pm
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The title with 'short fic' in it had me fooled for a while. Then I noticed who wrote it and figured it wouldn't be that short. Even noticed you seem to have another fic out there which I haven't found yet ('Normality' I think it was), will have to look that one up soonish.
. It also didn't help that Joshua's eyes are blue and Willow referred to her mother/parents as being involved and helpfull 
. Of course no parent wishes any illness on their kids, besides Joshua has (had) enough already.
lol jk...i just have to admit that i 
ur story
Of course I had to read it twice. The first time I couldn't get your description of your inner dialogue, while writing that particular section, out of my head and I kept having this humorous image of you sitting in front of the computer stressing about the physical logistics of the situation...and I kept giggling. Yes...dammit...you made me giggle.
.