Hey everyone! This is my first ever fic, and I did this without a beta, so I hope you like it! I'm planning on making this into a series. Please review, I'd love feedback!
I never gave it much thought. The fact that I have two fathers just seems natural to me, like night and day. I call the one named Noah, Dad, and the one named Luke, Daddy. They adopted me when they were 25, a year after they were married, and they named me Charlotte Isabel Mayer-Snyder. People always say my sister Corinne and I look like mixes of the two of them, with my blonde hair and blue eyes, and Corinne's brown hair and dark brown eyes, and our fair complexions. I'm 18 now, and when Dad, Daddy, my eleven year old sister Corinne and I all go out together, there are still people who will stop and stare, muttering, glaring, shaking their heads in disgust. The worst time still plays back in my mind, over and over like a tape recording. I was about eight or so. I know i was pretty young because Corinne was a baby at the time, and being watched by my Grandmother Lily. My dads thought I needed some quality bonding time to spend with them, since Corinne had just been adoped, and at three months old, we were not getting any peace from her rather powerful, well-developed lungs. We were walking in the parking lot of the local Oakdale mall, loaded down with shopping bags. As Dad helped me into the car, I heard an angrily whispered, "Faggots."
A stout man and his ugly son had walked past our Mercedes. He then whispered louder to his son, both looking over at us three, animosity etched on their faces.
"Pieces of Shit. They're gonna mess up that little girl, they will! Fucking fags..."
The rest was drowned out by Daddy starting the car. He looked at Dad, both with sad expressions in their eyes.
Later that night, I was comfortably tucked into bed, Corinne sleeping soundly in the room next to mine. The house was beautiful, spacious, with two stories and four bedrooms. Dad and Daddy made a good amount of money, with Dad as a successful movie director, and Daddy having his own equally successful column in the Oakdale newspaper.
I crept down the stairs after hearing a discussion between my two fathers. They didn't see me. Dad was sitting on the couch, Daddy was pacing from one side of the living room to the next.
"How is this going to work out?" Daddy asked, running a hand through his blond hair. "What if...what if Charlotte and Corinne never have normal lives? They're going to have to go through so much...because of me."
Dad jumped up off the couch and rushed over to Daddy. "No! No, Luke, no. Don't you EVER think that! You hear me, baby? It isn't anybody's fault except those racist bigots."
" I know," Daddy sighed, "but I can't help but feel like that. I wish there was some way we could protect them from that. What they'll undoubtedly have to face."
" My Luciano," Dad began, holding Daddy close. "I love you and the girls more than anything; you know that, right?"
"Yes," Dady whispered in a barely audiable voice. " Noah, do you know that I love you and the girls more than anything, too?" They held eachother close, their noses less than an inch apart.
"I do, Luke And that means we'll all be okay." They kissed with passion.
Nine years ago, I could have never guessed what love could do. Now, at eighteen, I see its power. I graduated from high school last year at salutatorian of the class. I was accepted at prestigious universities across the United States, some of them Ivy League. I, however, chose to attend Oakdale University, the reasons completely obvious, perfectly clear and true. I plan to be a lawyer. At sixteen, I was crowned Miss Oakdale, and then at seventeen, I was crowned Miss Teen Illinois. I As I made my speeches for all of my accomplishments, I said all of the usual, cliche things. But then I talk about my dads. There are no words, never a word strong enough to proclaim how thankful I am for them and the love they have given me, and, in return, the love I have for them. I always break down in tears towards the end of my speech. And, by the time I'm done, the sound of sobs fill the room, rivers of tears flowing from people's eyes. I always make a joke about smearing my mascara, and then I'm crying harder. And then I think how, if nothing, I'd love to see those two guys from the parking lot again, just long enough to show them everything. To show them what love can do. Because things have a way of working out. After all, love knows no limit. And neither do I.