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I sauntered over to the only single bed of the children's' room and sat neatly on the edge of the purple, fluffed up duvet. Dixie kicked her feet under the cover, the sleepiness once again faded into excitement.
The room was small, but enough to comfortably fit a large chest of draws and three beds—one single and a bunk bed. Walls that surrounded us were painted a light tea green, and small pink and yellow flowers stuck themselves as decoration, sprinkling themselves around the room. Pictures and drawings that have been collected over the years sat upon the surfaces and lay stuck to the walks.
I loved this room.
"So, guys, what stories do you want me to tell, today? Made up or real?" I asked as I looked up to the bunk bed for more than one yell of approval. This room is a democracy, not a dictatorship.
"Real!" all three cried—Keira tiredly raising her arm, Ace with his eyes closed, and Dixie's eyes half-lidded as she flopped backwards back on the bed.
My lips pursed as I lay down closer to Dixie—who had her hands arranged on top of her body, on top of the blanket.
"A story abouttt what?" I pondered aloud, but more to myself than anything; there were many stories to tell, all different and exciting in their own ways.
The room remained silent until Keira's black hair and golden eyes became evident above the top bunk, long, black hair curling over the metal railing. "Dad. I want a story about dad."
Keira was normally the more quiet and secure one, so I was astonished when she suggested this—well, anything really. She was never one for speaking her mind, often one of the other kids would speak her words anyway.
She would remain without needing or receiving help most days—or so I heard from their babysitters. The only time she would ask for help was when tears were welling up at the brink of her eyes and snot was dribbling from her sniffling nose...
or just when she wanted something enough to speak.
Surprised at her suggestion, I slowly started to move my head around the small, rectangular room. Sure enough, the other two were nodding their heads in accord.
They planned this, didn't they?
After a while of unpleasant silence, I began to awkwardly chuckle, "What about how Auntie Remi and Uncle Blyke became superheroes for a week? That's a pretty cool story." The two had gone around children hospitals dressed up as heroes to cheer them.
