Anything But Normal

Epilogue: 13 Years Later

The sunlight beamed through the windows of the large room, creating comforting shadows on the furniture and reflecting off the mirrors that were scattered around the room. I glance around the room and smile, just as I did every morning. I study my expensive dressing table and the glittering chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. I swipe my head when I hear a door creaking, and whipped my hair around quickly to see the pale door to my walk in wardrobe swinging uncontrollably. I laugh out loud and rush over, peeking in to see the most beautiful girl in the world rummaging through my racks of t-shirts, in hope that she might find one that suits her, but it wouldn't matter because she looks stunning in anything she wears.

"Callie baby, what're you looking for?" I ask leaning against the door frame.

"Well," she puffs. "I can't find a nice top that would go with my shorts." She holds a blue crop top up to her chest and then throws it down frustrated. "I can't find anything," she cries out and sits on the beige bench, burying her face in her hands, shaking her head in denial.

"Come on babe," I smile, sitting down next to her and wrapping my arm round her. "Let's look together." I hug her quickly and pull her to her feet.

She's grown so quickly since the time I first held her in my terrified arms, she forced me to buy her her first lipstick when she was 2 and a half, and by the time she was 3 she was my official shopping buddy. I wouldn't be lying if I said I wasn't worried that she'd be a tomboy, because ever since I was a young girl I've always wanted a little shopping buddy, someone who would buy clothes and makeup with me. When she was around 6 she would still climb the tree in our back yard with her brother, and run through the mud with the sprinklers blasting. But she would also enjoy going to get a manicure and picking out a new dress. She's in the popular group at school, and they aren't mean or bitchy like your stereotypical ones, they're kind, and I think because of her gentle nature, she's changed the rules. I love her double personality, it's another thing that makes her who she is, and she's so unique.

Her brother on the other hand is just one thing, the IT guy. Even at the age of 10 years old girls were swooning around him like moths attracted to a florescent light. He does spend a lot of time with his sister though, in and out of school. He'll always check on her at lunch and break, swaggering over to the table where her and her friends sit. Her friends will always gasp and flirt with him, but he does not give a rats ass because all her cares about is his sister, and I think it really sweet. Ever since they smiled at each other on their first day of being born they've been inseparable and there for each other. Sam has given him the birds and bees talk, and I told him that I'd be very disappointed if he ever got anyone pregnant at a young age.

But they're my babies, and I would support them no matter what, but it doesn't mean I would not be disappointed.

"This, oh my god it would be perfect," I grin, handing her a white crop top and a flowing coral skirt. "And get out your brown gladiator sandals and matching belt."

"Thanks Mum," she squeals, wrapping her arms around my stomach. "This is the good part about having a mum who's a fashion designer." She skips out of the wardrobe and I can hear her singing some pop song all the way down the corridor.

Yes, I became a fashion designer. I wanted so desperately to become a model, but I kept getting turned down because they thought I wasn't the model type. At that time, I had just turned 16 and the twins were nearing their first birthday. I was thin and tight in all the right places, but I was still a teenager so I had spots and an odd face shape. I was sad for weeks by the amount of negative comments I had received, but Sam told me I'm too good for them. I remember smiling up at him as I sat on the bedroom floor, my face streaked with mascara and foundation, with a spark of determination lighting up within me. I started sketching, and buying and organising clothes and within a few months I had my first designing job. By the time I was 21 I had my own line at Hollister and I was designing clothes for fashion week. I was tanned and beautiful by then as well, golden hair falling below my chest. Intense eyes and a killer figure with perfect straight white teeth. The dozens of agencies I had visited when I was 16 were bowing at my feet and all I could do was laugh in their smug faces. I was successful and beautiful with a family I adored and the lifestyle I always wanted. Life was perfect, and it has been since that cold February day when I held my babies in my arms.