A gift from above

1

"Mommy, tell me the story again," Steve begs, sitting on his mother's lap. She rocks him back and forth gently, tilting her head up to share a smile with her husband. She cards her hand through her son's hair, her polished wedding ring gleaming in the low light of Steve's nursery.

"What do you say, Stevie?" she prompts gently. She's been trying to instill manners in her son, is determined that he will grow up to be polite and respectful, just like his father.

Steve turns big brown eyes on her, squirming slightly in anticipation. "Please, mommy?"

She laughs softly. "Of course, baby." Her husband comes up behind her shoulder, reaching down to take her hand, fingers intertwining as she begins the story.

"Well, honey, a few years ago, your daddy and I really wanted a baby. We prayed and prayed for a really long time." She pauses for a moment, a far-away look in her eyes. "But even though we tried really hard, it just wasn't happening." Her husband squeezes her hand tightly, continuing the story for her.

"Your mom and I decided that we were going to wish for a baby. So we put our heads together, and we wished really hard. We wished for a little baby that we could love lots and lots." He pauses, ruffling Steve's hair with his free hand. Steve giggles, still captivated by the story.

"And then one day, kiddo, you showed up on our doorstep." Steve's parents share a sweet smile, their eyes full of love for their son as they recall the moment.

"And you were just perfect," Steve's mom continues, hugging him closer to her chest. "Our little gift from the universe." Steve's father nods in agreement, placing a gentle hand on Steve's shoulder.

"Our sweet Stevie" he murmurs lowly.

And on that note, Steve closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep, thanking the universe for giving him such a great family.

***

"No, Carol , I'm not going to change my mind. Just sign the damn papers already." Steve rubs his temples, fighting the urge to take several pills to ease his oncoming migraine.

"But Steve," Carol warbles, crocodile tears in full effect, "You're so codependent, how will you survive without me?"

Steve grits his teeth and curses every decision that ever led him to this moment. "I'll survive the same way I did for the twenty years before I met you." He then immediately regrets that sentence, because he knows exactly how Carol will respond.

"But Steve, your mother took such good care of you before we met. And do you know what she said to me before she passed? Do you know?"

Steve, in fact, did know, because Carol brought it up about three times per day. "Carol—" he starts.

"She said," Carol interrupts loudly, "that I needed to take good care of you." She pauses for a loud, dramatic sniffle. "And I have, Steve! I really have."

"Carol," Steve says steadily, "I don't need anyone to take care of me. I'm a grown man." He hadn't needed his mother to take care of him when he was younger, either but he bites his tongue. He can only handle one argument at a time.

"But Steve, you got hurt when I wasn't there! You were in the hospital! Are you even taking your medications? You sound like you might have a cold coming on, you know." She sounds so much like Steve's mother that he could scream. As it is, he takes a deep breath in, counts to four, and then releases it. It's a trick he learned from his new therapist, to help with his anxiety.

"Carol, I'll discuss that with my doctor. Not you. Do you understand?" He lets out another breath, suddenly very tired. Carol starts on another rant, but he isn't listening.