El’s stomach is covered in a clear gel. I wink when her head rolls to my side. The doctor runs a hand held object over her belly while paying attention to the screen. At first, there’s nothing on the screen, then I see it. A white blob on the black screen.
His finger halts on the screen, directly above the blob. “Can you hear it?” he asks.
I dart a glance at El. “No?”
He moves that object on her stomach again and my hand tightens around hers. “If you listen closely, you can hear the heartbeats.” I nod at the screen, paying rapt attention to what he is trying to tell us. Then I hear it—the gentle sound of a thumping heart. El does too. I palm her hands between mine. Our baby. “Nails start to form at this point, see?”
The image on the screen is a bit blurry like we are watching a movie on a black and white TV. I don’t see nails or hair or anything he talks about. I just see my boy or the tiny human that’s my boy. He looks big.
“They are doing very well,” the doctor tells us—the new parents—as he wipes the gel off El’s stomach. “You can come next month to confirm their genders.” Three weeks time. He helps El to a sitting position, rips out a sheet with instructions from his clipboard. “You shouldn’t but if you feel any pain, call me.”
El accepts the note with a small smile. His words finally settle over me. “They?” Their heads tilt towards me. “Did you just say their genders?”
They is used for plural. Their too. When you have more than one and he used the word so casually.
“Yes. We can’t tell the genders now but in a few weeks, we should be able to. You’re having twins.”
Twins.
Two boys. They must be boys.
I grin from ear to ear. It might be a bit late but I am getting everything I have wished for. El makes a face. I rush to her as soon as the doctor leaves us. We are having baby boys. Two miniature Brandon.
“You’re suffocating me.” She taps me until I release her. My grin is bigger than ever. “You are getting your baby boys,” she says. Her lips meet my jaw in a chaste kiss. If she believes it and I do too, it will happen. “You are getting everything you deserve.”
I don’t shy away from her words. I deserve every good thing that is coming my way.
* * *
On arriving home, we call the girls into the living room. The twins sit on the floor while Brianna takes the single couch. El is glued to my side, hands laced in mine. Her free hand runs over her belly in circular motion. I don’t know if she’s aware of what she’s doing but she has been doing it since we left the clinic.
It might be to protect the little ones.
“Daddy, how are you?” Wyn asks moments after we are still sitting in silence and trying to gather our thoughts. We also want to tell them about Brianna.
El beats me to the news. “I’m pregnant.” The twins don’t react. Brianna stares morosely. “Bren. Wyn. Bri. Did you hear me? You’ll be big sisters.” The twins crawl towards El and place their ears against her belly. Her fingers tangle in their hair. I stretch my hand to Brianna, inviting her to sit between me and El. She smiles shyly. “You can’t hear them.”
Bren looks up to her mother. “Are they girls?”
Wyn continues for her, “I want a little sister.”
Too bad for them, we are having boys.
“We will find out later,” El says to ease them. Their shoulders hang in disappointment, they will be more disappointed when we confirm the genders at the next appointment. “Did you know Daddy had a twin?”
Their heads jerk up and the sadness in their eyes morphs into interest. We contemplated telling the twins about him on our way home. They deserve to know about their uncle, dead or not. Brianna ought to know about her birth father. We owe her this much.
“Yeah,” I confirm. “Brianna’s daddy.”
I don’t think they understood me. Brianna is the only one who reacts. She looks up to me as if to confirm my statement. I try and fail to smile. Will she be mad? I have always claimed to be her daddy.
Wyn says, “How come you never told us about him?” Life happened. “Where’s he now? Is he nice like Uncle Josh? Can he make pancakes? I’ll like him if he likes pancakes.”
Then she wouldn’t have gotten along with him. He was the twin who couldn’t cook. But he knew a thing or two about video games and the girls love their games. I think about it now, really long and hard. Brendan never wanted kids. He would always joke about getting a baby mama if the pressure became too much.
“Princess, he’s dead,” I whisper. Brianna stiffens.
“What’s dead?” Bren asks.
Yeah, what is dead? How do you explain the concept of death to five-year-old kids?
“It’s when people are no longer with us. They go to heaven,” El says. I shoot her a grateful smile. She lifts Wyn to her lap. “It’s like that time Milo died.” Wyn’s lips quiver at the sad memory. Someone in her school thought it would be a great idea to send her home with a snail. She let it out one evening to exercise because according to my beautiful daughter, animals also need to exercise. The next time we saw it, Milo was dead. “It went to heaven.”
I’m not much of a religious guy, so I don’t think animals go to heaven. They go to an animal place.
“Do you miss him?” Bren asks.
She kneels between my legs and palms my face. I spent so much time hating him, there was scarcely a chance to miss him. I pinch her cheeks and her tongue darts out. Brianna’s head rests on my shoulder. We will be having the talk about the adoption after this. I am afraid she might hate us.
“Yeah. I miss him now.”
The twins take turns to question me. Wyn goes first. “Did you cry when your brother went to heaven?”
“No,” I answer sincerely.
“Why not?”
Even El is staring at me. “I was very angry.”
“But I cry when I’m angry sometimes,” Bren says. I don’t like this conversation anymore. They ask the questions with innocence and no malice but it requires thoughts. I don’t want to think about the past.
El reads my expression and reaches for me. It’s a simple brush of her fingers against my cheek but it helps greatly. Bren tugs on my sleeve to call my attention. All three girls have the same hairstyles today.
“If he’s your brother, does that make him like a second Uncle Josh?” I nod. “What’s his name?”
I like that they talk about him in the present. Like he’s not dead but went on a vacation to heaven and will be returning shortly. Brianna hasn’t said a word. She is doing better than she was when we began this year. She is a quiet child, a welcome change from the chatterboxes the twins are.
“Brendan.”
“Hmm. Daddy, your name is Brandon,” Wyn cuts in, dragging my name like it’s the most difficult word to pronounce. “All the names are almost the same. Brandon. Brendan. If the babies are boys, will you call them Brandon and Brendan? Like me and Bren. Branwyn and Brenwyn. It’s only one letter that is different in our names.” I feel two pairs of eyes on me, El and Brianna, but I don’t look. “Mary’s brother has her daddy’s name. Teddy.”
I don’t even know Mary but I’m guessing she’s their classmate. Brandon and Brendan. I’ll have to ask El.
“You didn’t let me finish,” Bren says when her sister is about to ask another question. Wyn rolls her eyes and Bren slaps her knee.
“Daddy!” Wyn cries. Her lower lip juts out. She’s so mischievous sometimes. “My sister beat me.”
“Sorry, Princess,” I tell her. “Bren, don’t do that again.”
Wyn sticks out her tongue at her twin and a battle of tongues begins. I don’t stop them because it’s cute.
“Okay. That’s enough,” El says. She adjusts Wyn on her lap, smiling at me to show she’s fine with carrying Wyn. “Bren, what were you going to say?”
“Thank you Mummy.” Her smile is innocent but having been on the receiving end of her anger, it doesn’t fool me. She props her elbows on my knees. “If Uncle Brendan is Brianna’s daddy, does that mean Brianna is not our sister again?” Kids ask too many questions, especially mine. “I think she is our nephew. But I want her to be my sister forever.”
“She’s still your sister. She’s your sister forever,” El says before I can correct her on the right term. She should be their niece but I like the term: sister better. They frown at El. “Just different parents.”
I don’t think they understand. “Your mummy is right. Brianna will always be your sister. You know why?” They shake their heads. “We are going to adopt her.” Their confusion reaches a new high, they look at each other like I am saying gibberish. I smoothen the lines on my forehead. It is harder to explain to kids. “Brianna is still a part of the family.”
Brianna, the subject of interest doesn’t bat an eye, her arms sneak around my waist. I think she gets it.
“What’s adopt?” Wyn whispers.
“Adoption is when you bring someone new into the family and you love them equally.” My explanation has holes but they seem to understand this watered down version. “So when you bring them into the family, they become your sister. If it’s a boy, he becomes your brother. And we become the parents.”
“So I adopted Milo?” Wyn asks. “I was his mother?”
“Yes,” El answers. Thank God she did because I have no idea what else to say. “So Bri is your big sister.”
“Okay,” they chorus. It’s almost creepy how they say it in unison without any planning. To Brianna, they smile. Their eyes light up. “Big sister.”
“Small sisters,” she replies in almost a whisper.
Bren yawns. Her twin does the same and hops off her mother’s lap. They hug us. Bren flicks a finger over Brianna’s nose. Wyn does the same mostly because her sister did it and El shares a look with me.
They excuse themselves to their room. I tuck a piece of Brianna’s hair behind her ear. She smiles.
“Did you understand anything I said?” She nods. “Would you like us to adopt you?” I want to do this with her permission. Another nod. She slips her hands into mine and El’s. My voice comes out as a desperate plea when I tell her, “You have to keep calling me Daddy.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
My mouth dries up and I squeeze my new daughter in a hug. I will always be her Daddy. El allows us a father-daughter moment. She is teary-eyed and smiling. The doctor said her mood swings might be unpredictable because of the hormones. Her food cravings too. I don’t look forward to waking up at midnight to get her a snack but I will gladly do it.
“I love you, Brianna Stark,” I whisper into her ear. “You’re the miracle I needed to happen.”