Rantings of an Arranged Mind

“Tell me a story.”

How many lives have changed because of that simple sentence? How many worlds created and destroyed? It seems so innocent, so ordinary. But those words have power.

Our daughter changed everything with that question. This is how it all started:

“Tell me a story,” she said, looking up at her father. He was tucking her into her pink blankets, sitting on the edge of her bed. Her dark hair, the same colour as his, was spilled out over her pillow.

“Which one do you want? ‘Mortimer’ again? Or maybe ‘The Paper-bag Princess?’”

“No, Daddy, tell me a story,” she giggled. He looked at me, raising an eyebrow.

“I think she means she wants you to make it up,” I said, smiling at them both from the doorway.

“Oh.” He blinked. He turned back to her. “Not tonight, Rhia. It’s late. I haven’t had time to think of any. Maybe another day. Do you want ‘Mortimer?’”

She smiled. “Yes, please.”

He took the Munsch book from the shelf and started to read. “On the night that Mortimer’s mother took him upstairs to bed…”

I retreated quietly, smiling softly. They would laugh their way through the “clang clang, rattle bing bang” of Mortimer’s song, and then she would settle down to sleep. I slipped down to the kitchen, making some microwave popcorn and pouring glasses of juice.

My husband appeared a few moments later.

“Movie night?”

I smiled, chewing popcorn. I fed him a few buttery bites. He kissed the salt from my fingers, and then carried the bowl and one of the glasses, while I brought the other. We settled down in the darkened den and I pressed “Play” on the DVD I had chosen. He put his arm around me like in high school, and I snuggled into his shoulder.

“You’re a great daddy, Ethan.”

He kissed the top of my head. “Rhia’s a great kid. She makes it easy. Naturally lovable, like her mom.”

I scoffed and poked his ribs. The movie started, and we cuddled closer.

“Juno?” He asked. “That’s the one about the pregnant teenager, right?”

“Shhhh. I want to see it.”

“I’m just asking!”

“Shhhhh. Yes. You do this every time,” I giggled. “Can’t you ask before I press ‘play?’ You always interrupt.”

He grinned. “Only because I know it bugs you.”

Ethan sat in happy silence, except when he laughed. I laughed too. It was sweet and funny. At the end of it, he turned and asked me a question.

“Do you want another baby, Mara?”

“The movie isn’t a code, Ethan. I just wanted to see it.” He was so cute. “Not everything means something.”

He smiled. “Maybe I’m the one who wants another baby.”

“Oh really? Maybe you’re the one who wants to try to have another baby.” I put my arms around him, nuzzling his neck.

“Well, there’s no harm in trying, is there?” He smiled, tilting his head down to kiss me.

“No harm at all…” I sighed happily.

A long and pleasurable time followed. I rolled over in the middle of the night in our big bed, wrapping an arm over his fuzzy chest.

“What was that about earlier?” I mumbled.

“Hmmm?” He murmured, not quite asleep.

“Rhia asked for a story. You didn’t want to make one up.”

“I couldn’t think of anything. It’s not a big deal.” He rolled over, drifting off to sleep.

Something about it bothered me. Somehow, it was a big deal. I watched my lovely husband sleeping, and couldn’t help but smile.

I’d bug him about it tomorrow, I decided. And settled down to sleep myself.