Noah! Liam! Guys, let’s hustle! The bus will arrive in fifteen minutes! As I packed two similar lunch boxes and looked at the kitchen clock, I yelled up the stairs.
The soccer ball on Liam’s and the tiny dinosaur keychain on Noah’s were the only things that separated them.
The twins, still tucking up their uniform shirts, rushed down in thundering footsteps. Ten years old and always on the go.
“Have you had your teeth brushed?” Their guilty looks told me the answer before I even asked.
Noah clarified, “We were completing our science models.”
Liam gave a sincere nod. “The measurements had to be accurate because we are creating volcanoes.”
Teeth. Right now. “You have three minutes,” I said, gesturing to the restroom. “And take your authorization forms off my desk! They are signed and prepared for action.
I grinned at the recognizable morning mayhem as they scampered away. After assisting with math homework, preparing supper, and cleaning soccer clothes that somehow always needed to be clean by morning, I signed the permission sheets last night.
George and I first met when his twin boys were only five years old. They shared a bond that only twins can have; they were lovely and wild.
When the boys were little, their mother, Melanie, had moved away from George to pursue a job that required her to travel frequently. She frequently disappeared for weeks at a time.
She never relinquished custody, but she rarely visited. Although they knew her, the lads didn’t depend on her.
We started out slowly, George and I, but as soon as things got serious, I entered their life the way anyone would when they fell in love with someone who had kids. Completely and without hesitation.
After a year I was handling soccer practice drop-offs, bedtime tales, and these hectic school mornings where everyone always had something forgotten.
And I thought it was fantastic.
In the emergency department, Noah reached for my hand rather than his father’s when he first skinned his knee so badly that stitches were required.
Liam called my name during his dreams.
It was I who discovered that Liam couldn’t tolerate the way some clothes felt against his skin, and that Noah would not eat a sandwich unless it was cut diagonally.
Not everything was simple.
I was freezing, but Melanie was polite. She was just aloof, not mean. Even though she hardly attended rehearsals, it seemed as though she viewed me as a supporting part in a play in which she was the main character.
I never tried to go too far, though. I never asked to be called Mom by the boys. I was aware that I wasn’t.
However, they occasionally slipped and unintentionally called me such.
On the inside, I was ecstatic, but I would smile and let it go. Nevertheless, I reminded myself to maintain proper boundaries.
George and I were happily married five years later. Now that the boys were ten, we had organized a special birthday celebration.
Their favorite dishes, friends, cousins, a magician, and a soccer-themed cake they helped design were all part of our plans for a backyard celebration.
It was intended to be our first large family birthday party.
Melanie then gave a call.
George’s phone rang that evening as I was chopping veggies for supper. He was helping the boys with a school project in the living room, but Melanie’s voice could be heard over the speaker.
As he stepped onto the back porch to conclude the call, I could sense the tension in George’s shoulders despite his calm and measured remarks.
“Is everything alright?” as he returned inside, the boys had gone upstairs as I requested.
He let out a sigh. “Melanie requests that the birthday arrangements be modified. Instead, she says, she’s organizing an event at her house.
“But we’ve spent months organizing our backyard celebration,” I remarked, putting down the knife. The lads contributed to the cake’s design. The magician has them thrilled.
“I understand.” George gave a nod. “She was… insistent when I told her that.”
A text message rang on my phone before I could reply. Since Melanie didn’t often get in touch with me personally, I sensed something wasn’t right.
It was a direct message. “This is a family event,” it said. You’re not welcome.
I tried to comprehend what I was reading as I gazed at the screen. Then a second message appeared.
“You are a childless couple. If you want to celebrate birthdays, go have your own.
My hands became chilly, and my chest began to feel hollow. Without saying anything, I gave George the phone.
As he read, his face grew serious. She wasn’t authorized to say that. I’ll give her a call back—
“No,” I muttered. “Not right now. Not when the boys could listen in.
When the twins had gone to sleep later that evening, George held me while I finally started crying.
“She is unaware,” I muttered.
“No,” he said quietly. “We didn’t tell her. It wasn’t her concern.
Nobody was aware.
At first, not even George. It wasn’t until we were married that he realized I couldn’t conceive.
We discovered I had a disease that made pregnancy all but impossible when we sought to establish a family. We wept in silence.
I can still recall how I used to cry every night when I dreamed of babies I would never be able to hold. We were already a family, George would whisper as he held me closer.
After a while, I moved on and gave my all to the small family I did have.
When Noah and Liam would get into my lap and tell me a story, they had no idea how much they comforted me.
That evening, I didn’t respond to Melanie’s message. But it played repeatedly in my head for days, haunting me.
“You don’t have any kids.”
She had no idea how deeply those words would pierce her.
Then, a week or so prior to the birthday, I experienced a change. I was going through bills while George was on a business call when I stumbled upon the twins’ tuition statement.
That’s what I came up with. Not to George. Not to Melanie.
To me.
You see, George had lost a significant client approximately a year earlier, and that client had been paying a significant portion of the twins’ tuition for private school. The past few months had been difficult. George had been upset, fearing that he would have to remove the boys from their beloved school.
I jumped in without thinking. Silently. I made a deal with the school to have all bills sent to me, and I have since paid them all.
The boys didn’t have to switch schools. Their lives remained steady.
Melanie never knew all this time. In the same way that she believed I was unnecessary for her children’s existence, she had assumed George paid for everything.
I spent a lot of time looking over that bill.
“You don’t have any kids.”
Then I decided on something.
Did she wish for me to miss their birthday? Alright.
However, she need to be aware of whom she was attempting to remove.
While George brought the boys to their dentist appointments the following morning, I made a call to the school’s financial office.
I firmly said, “Hello, this is Lisa, the stepmother of Liam, Noah, and myself.” “I want to update their accounts’ billing contact information.”
“Obviously. What modifications are you interested in making? In a nice tone, the administrator inquired.
I said, “Please update the billing contact.” All upcoming invoices should now be sent to Melanie. With instant effect.
I took Melanie’s whole name, email address, and phone number off the boys’ emergency contact paperwork and gave them to them.
The administrator verified the modifications and informed Melanie that she will get a bill for the upcoming quarter’s tuition in two weeks.
“Lisa, will there be anything else?” She enquired.
“No,” I replied. That’s all. Thank you.
After hanging up, I inhaled deeply. I still hadn’t told George. A stronger part of me knew this wasn’t about spite, but I still questioned if I was being petty.
It was about refusing to back down.
My phone called three days later as I was in the bedroom folding laundry. The name of Melanie appeared on the screen.
She barged in before I could even say hello when I picked up the phone.
“What on earth did you do?” I just got a call from the school! They informed me that you asked them to include my name there and that I am now liable for tuition. Are you playing some sort of twisted game?
Before responding, I took my time folding Noah’s superhero t-shirt. I spoke in a relaxed tone.
“No game. Since you are their mother, I simply reasoned that it made more sense. I’m not a member of the family, am I?
Quiet. On the other end, I could hear her breathing.
Then, in a trembling, quieter voice, “Wait… You were covering their tuition, right?
“Yes,” I replied plainly. “For the previous 12 months.”
Another pause, this one longer.
“I assumed George—”
I clarified, “He lost his biggest client last year.” At the moment, he lacked the necessary funds. I took over.
“How much…” she began, then paused.
I heard her mentally figuring up how much it would cost to send two kids to private school for a year.
Finally, I heard something from her that I had never heard before.
“I had no idea,” she admitted. “I apologize. I was mistaken. I want you to attend the celebration. You’re wanted there by the boys. I want you to be there.
She didn’t express gratitude.
She didn’t have to, though.
That phone call was sufficient.
After all, the birthday celebration took place at our home. I collaborated with Melanie to make it unique.
All of Noah’s loved ones were there when he extinguished his candles. Liam gave each of us a hug after opening the gifts.
Melanie hasn’t made another attempt to push me out since. since she is now aware of the reality.
Their biological mother is not me.
However, I have been present each and every day.
I brought up the boys from soccer practice last week. Noah’s friend yelled out to him as we were making our way to the car.
“See you, Noah, tomorrow! Goodbye, mother of Noah!
He was not corrected by Noah. Rather, he took my hand after giving me a slight smile.
The people that matter most are sometimes the ones who show up. In every aspect that matters, I am still someone’s mother even if I am unable to have children of my own.
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