For your prompt. It's parents-teacher night next week and for the first time ever, the twins wanted Bianca to go instead of Janet.
(this is the cutest prompt I have ever seen can this PLEASE HAPPEN?!?!)
Bianca never thought much about motherhood. She’d never had it at the top of her list, never really heard the tick (tick tock) of the proverbial biological clock. She’d never found the right girl. Never thought she’d be any good at it.
She’s still not really sure she’s any good at it.
But the twins bound towards her, down the stairs and into her arms; dishevelled hair and dishevelled uniforms - endlessly energetic, resilient, kind, messy - their smiles bracketed with chocolate at the corners of their mouths, crumpled parent-teacher slips thrust towards her; and her heart feels very full. She’s losing count of her lucky stars, gives up on the calculations entirely when Emma turns to her, and grasps her hand, and peers up through her fringe to ask (very serious, very much like her mother) to please talk to my teacher.
Liam pauses in his race against his shadow, stretching in the afternoon sun on the sidewalk, to turn, nod fiercely, in rare and firm agreement with his sister, and Bianca would tease him about it if she wasn’t so preoccupied, if her stomach wasn’t so twisted, or her chest a little tight. Parent is the operative word. Parent-teacher nights require one of those. Demand one to sit on the small plastic school chairs, to drink the instant coffee, to make conversation with the other parents.
And god, she loves them. Would do anything for them, ends of the earth, parent-teacher interviews and back. But she’s never thought much about motherhood. She wasn’t prepared for this.
She’s not sure what she was expecting from Janet, after she tells her, feeling timid for no reason, feeling shy. They can hear the clatter (crash bang) of their tiny elephant feet as they race up the stairs as soon as they get home; pausing briefly for Janet to kiss them in turn; and Bianca sets about unpacking their bags, repacking their lunches; head bent towards vegemite sandwiches as she tells Janet they want her for parent-teacher night.
She’s not sure what she was expecting. Jealousy maybe? Shock? A flat-out, unreserved, no - you’re not a parent, you’re not their parent. She cleared her schedule for this.
Instead, Janet beams at her, a wide smile, and she skirts the kitchen table as Bianca shakes her head, tells her she can’t, she just can’t. She tangles her fingers in the loops of Bianca pants, turns her gently to face her; her face softening, her brows furrowing.
‘They’re lucky to have you’, she says, moving the half-made sandwiches out of the way so she can place a hand on ether side of Bianca’s waist. ‘I am lucky to have you’.
She leans forward then, kisses her, short and firm and square on her worried mouth, before she pulls away, a small pat to her waist and a grin again, wide and bright.
‘Plus you’ve saved me from a tedious evening, my love’.