Their Hearts Don't Beat Like Ours

“Bandit, can you come here, please.” I yell down the hall. Seconds later, I hear little feet running our way towards Frank and I's bedroom.
“Yeah, daddy.” Bandit says, peeking through the door.
“Come here, sweetie. There's something I need to read to you.” I reply. Tomorrow is her first day of school. My little girl is starting Kindergarten. She's five years old now. My god, how time flies.
Frankie walks out of the bathroom, smiling.
“Frankie, get the box please.” I say to him. He nods and walks to the closet, grabbing the small cardboard box from corner of the closet.
He hands it to me and sits beside me. I search for a specific piece of paper. The one that says “For your first day of school.”
This is the first note from Lindsey she's gonna read. We've told her about Lindsey, but not who she is to her. She knows her face, and her name, and stories.
I unfold the piece of paper gently. I tap my lap, gesturing to Bandit to sit. She jumps up and I wrap one arm around her, holding the letter in front of the both of us. I then start to read.
My dearest Bandit,
I can't believe you're starting school. This is remarkable. If you can make it this far, you can make it anywhere. Remember you're loved, dearly. Remember your fathers will do anything for you. There are mean people in this world, Bandit. Very mean. And a lot of these people are at school. If they're mean, don't be scared. Be smart, and don't be like them. You're better. They'll judge you for being who you are, but don't let that change you. Pick out an outfit that makes you feel beautiful. Walk into that school strong. Follow this little piece of advice your daddy always told me, “Don't let them take you alive”.
I love you,
Lindsey.
I didn't seem to notice the tears in my eyes until Bandit reached up and wiped my cheek.
“What's wrong, daddy?” I hear the cutest little voice ask me.
“I just... I really love Lindsey, baby.”
“Like you love dad?” Bandit ask.
“No, a different kind of love. But she loves you like I love you and dad.” I explain to her, trying to make her understand.
“Daddy, when can I finally see her?”
“One day,” Frank starts, “One day, a long time from now. But you'll know why soon enough. Okay, pumpkin?”
Bandit nods her, laying her shoulder on my head.
“Alright, big day tomorrow, go to bed, kiddo.”
“Okay, daddy.”
“Hair and teeth brush-”
“Dadadada!” I hear a voice, and small feet hit the carpet.
Frank laughs, standing up and opening the bedroom door all the way. Miles runs and grabs hold of this leg.
“What's up, buddy?” Frank ask, still laughing a little.
Miles is almost 2 years old. When Bandit was about 2, Mikey and Pete had a son, Bronx. Spending time with a baby again, specifically a boy, made Frank and I want another kid. So, we began our search for a surrogate. It didn't take long, and we found the perfect one. Frank's sperm was used, and just like we hoped, we had a boy. Miles Anthony Iero-Way. And he looks just like his dad.
Since Miles can't speak to well, he just looks up at Frank and starts mumbling something that is similar to the word thirsty. Miles and Frank connect like Bandit and I do. But weirder, Frank even understands Mile's babbling.
“Want some milk?” Frank bends down and picks our son up. Miles nods in response.
“Actually,” I start, “How about cookies and milk for the both of you, before you go to bed?”
The kids faces lights up, and Frank just chuckles. I grab Bandit's hand, and we all exit the bedroom, walking towards the kitchen.
Frank sets the cookies out on napkins after putting Miles in his highchair, pulling it towards the island. Bandit gets up in the bar stool beside her brother. I grab four small cups and fill two with milk and the other two with this ice coffee stuff in the fridge.
“Daddy, is A in my class?” Bandit asks me. A is for Alex, because she couldn't say it. Alex is the little boy that Brendon and Ryan ended up adopting from an abusive home. Alex was two at the time, same age as Bandit. They've been best friends since they met. Same as Brendon, Ryan and us. Alex calls Bandit B. Frank always says they'll end up together, just like A and B are in the alphabet. Just like F and G are together in the alphabet. He's so corny.
“Yeah, baby. He is!” I exclaim, Bandit just smiles wide and continues eating her cookies.
Frank and I watch as the kids devour the cookies, giggling when the milk bubbles. Bandit showsMiles how to dip the cookies, too. She's so sweet to her little brother. But, trust me, we know that won't be a forever thing.
I look at Frank and grab his hand, admiring my name on the back of his hand in a heart. I grab his other hand, looking at the “BL” and “MA” that surround a bow and arrow. “I love you, Frank Anthony Iero-Way.”
He moves his eyes from the kids to me, smiling softly. “I love you, too, Gerard Arthur Way-Iero.”
I lean and kiss him gently, lingering for a moment, before pulling away and talking with the kids.
Sometimes, life doesn't turn out how we think. I thought I'd be the exact same for the rest of my life. With Lindsey, in the apartment, and no kids, trying to get by making comics.
But instead, here I am. In my kitchen, 30 years old, a best-selling comic writer, with my husband beside me, and our two beautiful children in front of me. No matter how bad it gets, I won't trade my life for the world.

Notes