Chapter 3 - Quality Time

(...Thomas and Violet's bedroom...a couple of hours later...)

A trampoline. A flying horse. Freshly-bloomed flowers. A bear on a unicycle. Discounting the half-hour for dinner, the time has been spent bringing these things into the bedroom, wished for by the children. Well...child, anyway.

"Come on! Why won't you have fun with me?" The eight-year-old's voice was filled with elation as they bounced on the trampoline.

"Yeah." Cosmo floats next to the sibling on the bed. "You only get to be eight once in your life. Why not make it reckless and memorable?"

"If I wish for something, I want it to be useful. I don't want to waste it."

"Oh, sweetie, that's one of the best things about having fairies: there are no wasteful wishes." Sure, there were stupid ones, ones made in haste and, of course, dangerous ones, but, in Wanda's mind, if the experience caused by the wish taught the child something valuable, it couldn't possibly count as 'wasteful'.

"Oh, come on, Thomas. Don't be a wet blanket." Violet continues to bounce, her ponytailed brown hair swaying.

To know Thomas and Violet - really know them - is to understand this: though they were twins, they were nothing alike. Never mind the obvious differences, like gender. About two months ago, the privilege of fairy godparents was bestowed upon the children. Violet is a carefree, take-things-as-they-come type. She was more than anxious to see what she could do with this gift. Thomas, on the other hand, belongs to the school of look-before-you-leap. Whenever he made a wish, he wanted to make sure it was something he really wanted. The fairies were amazed at how responsible the boy was; nothing at all like his father.

Thomas puts his hand to his chin. "Though...I never really got dessert." In spite of his manner, he had something that all kids possessed: a sweet tooth.

Wanda perked up. "I think I know where this is going."

"I wish I had a hot-fudge sundae!" And faster than one could say 'Haagen-Daas', a sundae (in a dish, natch) appeared in the boy's hands.

From her bed, Violet noticed the tasty treat her brother was enjoying.

"I wish I had a hot-fudge sundae..." Cosmo raises his wand. "...as big as me!" Before Violet's eyes, a sundae appears. Dripping with chocolate, covered in nuts, topped with whipped cream - truly the dessert of dreams.

Thomas' gaze floats to the mammoth frozen treat next to his sister, then looks to his normal-sized sundae. He hops off his bed and walks to the giant sundae.

"That looks good."

"Yes, it is", Violet says between spoonfuls.

"Can I have some?"

"I don't know. This is my sundae, after all."

"Violet...please?" By this point, his hands are folded.

"Hmmm...nah. Not unless you admit that I am the greatest big sister in the history of forever." Thomas groans. Arrive three and a half minutes late to the party and you pay for it the rest of your life.

"Well...?"

"You're the greatest big sister in the history of forever."

"Thank you. Dig in."

The siblings consume the snack with great enthusiasm. They soon stop and rub their foreheads in a panic.

"Brain freeze!"

"Are you two getting ready for bed?"

The kids look to the door. "Whoa! We wish this stuff was gone."

A wave of the wands sends the stuff into thin air. Thomas and Violet hop into their beds. The door opens, and in walks Tim.

"You two sure sounded excited just now. Anything you wanna tell me?"

The children give each other a look, then address their father. "No."

Tim puts the covers on Violet. "Good night, Violet." He kisses her on her forehead.

He turns to Thomas. "Good night, Thomas." He hugs him and tucks him in.

The man walks to the door and turns off the light. He lingers in the doorway for a while. This was his room as a kid. His parents were all too gracious about giving him the old house. He didn't wish to impose, but they'd already sold it and were Florida-bound, so, what the hey? His gaze drifts around the room. In between the twins' beds was a dresser with a hamster cage. Inside the plastic container were two hamsters; a pink one and a green one. The two of them were asleep, and one of them seemed to be holding a nickel. Tim shakes his head and closes the door.

(...the living room...)

Tim walks down the stairs and sits on the couch, letting one leg touch the floor. As he gets settled, Virginia walks in.

"Well, the dishes are done."

"And the kids are in bed."

"Now's as good a time as any to relax." She sits at the opposite end of the couch and stretches her arms out.

"Honey..."

"Yes?"

Tim motions to the area in front of him. "Have a seat."

"Are you kidding?"

"Please?"

She gives him a smirk and settles onto him almost like a cushion. "I can't say no to you."

"So that's why we've been together for so long." She elbows him in the gut.

"How was your day?"

"Kind of rough. I've been doing APS reports for years, and all of a sudden, it's like I just...blanked on how to get them done. I managed to get them done a few minutes ago, but still..."

"That sounds unusual. Perhaps, you were just tired. How did you sleep?"

"Fine." Tim shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know. Maybe, I'm just burned out or something. So, how was your day?"

"Not too bad. I was going over Edgar Allan Poe. Some of the kids seem to get it, but others...I think I'd have an easier time teaching Japanese to a chimpanzee."

"You know, I read somewhere that that was actually done."

"Get out."

"No, really. The key was finding a way to relate the material."

"That might work. How about if I went in tomorrow and..." Virginia affects a high, somewhat vacant voice. "'Um, yeah, Edgar Allan Poe was this, like, really depressed dude who wrote these, like, really dark stories and poems, you know?" She twirled a lock of her hair for effect.

"Now, that's impressive."

"Thank you."

"It's too bad that you were lost to substitute teaching. You could be a great impressionist."

"A nice thought, but you can't change the world with impressions."

"You're probably right." Tim kisses Virginia's ear.

"What was that for?"

"For what you put up with; for making a difference. Teachers don't get too much recognition."

She sighs. "They certainly don't get kissed for it."

"Which is good; it might not mean the same coming from a student."

The two of them laugh.

"By the way, good move on the hamsters. The kids really seem to like them."

"Thanks, Tim, but I didn't get them. I thought you did."

"Well, one of us must've gotten them. They couldn't have appeared out of nowhere."

Unaware to the two adults, a pair of vibrant pink eyes watched from the darkness. A heartfelt sigh comes from the direction of the stare.

(...the office...the next day...)

Tim sits at his desk, typing on the computer. He glances at some papers. "...all right, so this leads to form 'T', and that brings me back to statement 'D', sub-heading 'O'." More clacking of keys. "And now..." He rifles through some papers. "...for statement 'Phe', sub-heading 'Phi', sub-sub-heading 'Pho'..."

Tim grabs his head. "Ahhhh!" He tries to massage the pain away, but it's not going so easily. His other hand joins the battle. He puts his head down and resumes the caress. By now, some of Tim's office mates are transfixed by his misery. One of them rushes over.

"Hey, are you okay?" A stupid question, sure, but one can't help asking out of habit.

Instead of glaring at the well-meaning woman, Tim rears back and gives out a yell, his hands still at his head.

(...the Turner home...many hours later...)

Tim stumbles in, looking somewhat haggard. Virginia rushes up to him.

"Hey, stranger."

Tim offered no response as he passed her by and plopped down on the couch.

"You're probably wondering why I'm home early. Well, someone called in a bomb threat - though, not in my class, thankfully. It kinda wrecked my lesson plan, but it needed revising, anyway." The brunette gets a good look at her husband. "Good Lord, what happened to you?"

She walks over. "I had the worst headache at work."

"But you're fine now, right?" Virginia sits next to him.

He puts his hand to his head. "Yeah, I feel better."

"I think you should stay home tomorrow."

"Because of a little headache?"

She raises her voice "What if it's symptomatic of something serious? I don't want you to die on the job...and even less, a job like this."

If Tim had any reason to complain about his wife, it was her constant worrying over his well-being. At times, it seemed that she cared more about him than he did...and more about him than herself. Yep, some things never change. "Virginia, I'm fine."

"But--" Tim puts his index finger over her lips. He gives her a smile.

"This is no problem. Down the line, I'll take care of it. I promise." His fingertip leaves her mouth.

"All right, Mr. Tough Guy. You win. But if something happens to you..."

"Nothing will happen to me."