by Holly Rayner
Kathy frowned, trying to pay attention to what Richard had to say, despite the instinct to tune out. It wasn't that she didn't understand what he was saying, but people who used bigger words than they needed to, just to sound smart, irked her. It was hard not to dismiss anything said so smugly out of hand. She forced herself to focus.
"Is the infrastructure in Florida that bad?" Kathy asked. "That there are enough bad pipes for heavy metal poisoning to be an issue?"
"Not really." Richard shrugged. "I mean, we're better than some places. At least we don't live in Michigan, right? Although I guess it would be better for my study if we did."
He laughed, but Kathy didn't really get the joke. She was aware of the water crisis in Flint, Michigan, but she struggled to see how anyone, much less someone who studied the effects of such things for a living, could find it funny. A stiffly polite smile on her face, she waited out the ensuing uncomfortable silence.
"But, yeah." Richard cleared his throat and looked embarrassed. "It doesn't really matter. I've just got a smaller sample size. Anyway, work isn't really that important to me. It's just what you do to get by, right?"
"Actually, I'm very passionate about my work," Kathy said. "It's everything I always wanted to do with my life. I wouldn't give it up for the world."
"Ah." Richard didn't seem to know where to go from there. The conversation fell as limp as a fainting victim between them. Kathy tried to resuscitate it.
"It's hot out," she said, hoping he'd get the hint and they could head to the restaurant.
"Yeah, it's been humid as hell this week," Richard agreed, not getting it. "I hope it rains soon and cools things off a little."
"We're supposed to get some rain this weekend," Kathy supplied, ashamed of herself. God help them, they were talking about the weather now.
"I'll have to write myself a note to bring the trash cans in," Richard said, chatting as though this were a casual elevator ride with a coworker, soon to be ended by arrival at their separate floors, thus preventing the descent of inevitable awkward silence. "I always forget and they end up full of water."
"Do you want to go?" Kathy asked, giving up. "To the restaurant, I mean?"
"Oh, right!" Richard blinked as though he'd only just remembered that they were standing around in the sun for no reason. "Of course."
He opened the car door for her with a smile, which Kathy appreciated.
"I got us reservations at this great place on the beach," he said as they settled into the car. "We can watch the sunset over the water while we eat and everything. Hope you like seafood!"
"I'm allergic, actually," Kathy said, sighing as she buckled her seatbelt, resigned at this point.
"Oh," Richard looked briefly crushed and Kathy felt bad for him. "I could cancel the reservations? I'm sure we can find somewhere else—"
"No, it's fine," Kathy said quickly. "It sounds nice. I'm sure they'll have something safe for me on the menu. Don't worry about it."
"I should have asked if you had any preferences before I made the reservations," Richard said, shaking his head. "I'm an idiot."
"Honestly, it's fine," Kathy insisted. "They probably have a surf and turf dish. I'll just ask them to hold the surf. These kinds of things are just to be expected with a blind date."
"Yeah, but if I'd expected it I wouldn't have made such a stupid mistake," Richard said, continuing to beat himself up. "I just wanted everything to be perfect tonight."
"Seriously," Kathy said loudly, trying to jar him out of his funk. "It's okay! I'm not upset! I've eaten at seafood restaurants before. It's really, really okay!"
Richard finally accepted her insistence and started the car, pulling away from the curb. A long and uncomfortable silence lingered.
The two finally found a talking point in that they shared a common love of horror movies, discussing their favorites, which had scared them the most, and debating what sequels would come out next.
They continued to talk movies amicably as they drove to the restaurant and relief washed over Kathy like the cool breeze from the air conditioner over her skin. So, it had been an awkward start. This was a blind date after all; it was to be expected. This was salvageable.
Chapter Three
The restaurant was a local place in an elevated building right on the beach. They climbed the salt-stained wooden stairs up to the weathered, pink painted shack. The interior was breezy and casual, with bare wood and large windows to show off the view and the kind of tacky nautical bric-a-brac on the walls that tourists liked. Richard had been right about the view, which was spectacular. Kathy scanned the menu for something that didn't have fish in it while Richard ordered wine.
"They have a surprisingly nice white here," Richard said. "The place looks a little kitschy, but the chef really knows what he’s doing. The seafood is always super fresh and the pairings are spot on."
"I'm not much of a drinker, honestly," Kathy said without taking her eyes from the menu. "I probably wouldn't really appreciate it."
"You should give it a try," Richard insisted. "Who knows, you might develop an interest! I'm a little bit of a foodie myself. I make a point to try all the local places at least once."
"I end up at drive-through chains most of the time," Kathy said ruefully. "I'm always too busy for a sit-down restaurant. When I have time for it, I like to go somewhere I know I'll enjoy. Tried and true, I guess.”
"Well, I've always said if you like something, you have to make time for it," Richard said. "People are always saying they want to do something new. Take up a new hobby, learn a language, exercise. But they never want to adjust their schedules for it. They don't want to give anything up. They work long hours, they want to spend the weekends with friends and catch their favorite show on weeknights and cook dinner at home and have an hour before bed to read, and then they want to throw something else on top of it without changing anything. It just doesn't work. You have to decide where your priorities are, and sometimes you have to give up things you enjoy so that you can do something more important. Is exercising important enough to you to give up watching your show in the evenings? Is experiencing the different food around town more important than your work?"
"Probably not," Kathy answered with a small laugh. "But I see what you mean. I think most people are already pretty much living according to their priorities; they just don't realize it. Changing that is probably difficult."
"I think it's more like we live according to other people's priorities," Richard insisted. "Everything in our society is constantly telling us what we're supposed to value in our lives. Have to go to college, have to get married and have kids, have to make money, money, money. People just absorb those priorities and don't spend any time thinking about what matters to them. I think if people really sat down and considered what they actually value in their lives, they'd live a lot differently."
"I'm not sure they would," Kathy said thoughtfully. "You have a point that society kind of forces those values on everyone. But they got so big in the first place because a lot of people do value money, or their family, or work more than anything else. It seems like people who value self-improvement or trying a new food or whatever are probably the outliers."
"What about you?" Richard asked. "What do you value the most?"
Kathy considered it for a moment. Unsurprisingly, her work was the first thing that came to mind. It was what she spent nearly all her time and energy on, after all. In her off time, she watched documentaries and read articles about world events, which fed into her work. When she went shopping, she was always thinking about what would look good in front of the camera.
Pretty much the only thing she did that didn't have anything to do with her work were the succulents she raised on the terrace of her condo, and she only had to water those once a week. It wasn't just that she valued work more than anything. It was that she didn't even seem to have anything in her life to compete with it. She wasn't unhappy or unfulfilled, but looking at it objectively, it did seem kind o
f bleak.
Before she could answer, they were interrupted by the waitress. Kathy scrambled for her menu, but she already knew what her only choice was.
"The chicken strips, please," she ordered, trying not to let her disappointment show on her face. At least she still had that leftover coconut curry waiting for her at home. She smiled, remembering Tehar bringing it for her. She'd been surprised enough that he'd remembered her mentioning that place. But he'd even remembered her favorite dish there and her allergy. It was rare to meet someone so considerate.
She realized Richard was talking again and tried to pay attention. He was still talking about how if people branched out and experienced more, their values would change, and Kathy mostly agreed but stayed mildly annoyed by the slightly stuck up, presumptuous way he said everything.
"Not everyone can afford to just drop everything and go to India, Richard." She lost her patience at last, picking at her dry, uninteresting chicken strips. The seafood looked great and the fries were good, but it was clear the strips themselves were just kept in the freezer for picky children.
"Most people can't afford to just quit their jobs and live on their savings, especially not if they have a family to support. And there are people with health issues that make traveling completely impractical."
"What, you're saying someone in a wheelchair can't go to India?" Richard scoffed. The conversation had become slightly more confrontational after Richard's first glass of wine.
"No, I'm saying travel requirements are a lot more complicated and expensive with a wheelchair," Kathy replied, exasperated. "Or a service animal, or complicated medications and routines, or mental health issues that make changing your environment stressful and dangerous. Not to mention the perfectly healthy people who just can't afford it because their job doesn't pay enough and doesn't offer vacation time."
"Obviously it's more difficult for some people," Richard insisted. "But that doesn't mean it's impossible or that they shouldn't strive for it!"
"Right." Kathy rolled her eyes. "Well, you can be the one to tell the waitress when she gets back that instead of saving her tips for bills and groceries, she should be investing in a plane ticket to India."
"Maybe she should!" Richard said, getting a little too loud. "Maybe it would change her life!"
"Yeah, and I'm sure the two kids she needs to put through college one day would really value it," Kathy said with a bark of laughter. "It wouldn't change anything! She'd spend a ton of money to get there and probably have just enough left over to do the most basic bus tour of Mumbai and go home. Then she gets to starve herself for months while she tries to make the money back. That's if she saves enough to go in the first place before her car breaks down or her kid gets sick and all those savings vanish."
"You don't even know she has kids!" Richard said, almost shouting at this point. He suddenly realized how loud he was being and sat back, embarrassed. Kathy, realizing how intense the debate had become, sat back as well, trying to tamp down her contempt.
"Sorry," Richard said after a moment. "Economics and poverty are such prickly subjects. I'm glad we can agree to disagree."
Kathy gave him a flat, unimpressed look over the wine he'd insisted she try. It just tasted just like every other wine to her.
"People are dying, Dick."
"Please don't call me that."
Kathy sighed, rubbed her temples, and shook it off.
"Right, sorry," she said. "Sorry for getting too worked up."
"It's fine," Richard dismissed her apology lightly. "Being passionate is a good thing, right?"
"Right." Kathy wasn't sure passionate was the right word. Richard wasn't a bad guy. He seemed nice enough. He wasn't bad to look at. But she looked at him and felt nothing. She wasn't expecting some big Hollywood style explosion of fireworks. But she didn't even feel excited by the prospect of dating him. And the more he talked, the more she just felt bored.
They turned the conversation back to the relatively safe topic of pop culture for the rest of the meal. The cheesecake with dinner really was good, Kathy had to admit, and the slow spectacular collapse of the sun into the sea, a cacophonous glory of red and gold like a royal murder, was a sight to behold. Richard wasn't even bad company as long as they only talked about innocuous subjects.
I could learn to like him, Kathy told herself. With time. He's far from the worst thing to settle for. He looks good, he makes good money, he's nice enough, even if he's kind of boring. I could do it. He isn't awful, he's just…
She sighed as she accepted it. He just wasn't right for her.
After eating, they walked down to the beach to enjoy the last of the sunset. The sea rushed softly in and out to their left, a low and gentle roar, competing with the more aggressive sound of the cars hurrying past on their right, like two strange animals facing off, while she and Richard wandered between them.
There was a breeze this close to the shore, stiff with the scent of the ocean, brine, and algae. The sand slid unevenly under their feet. Kathy looked out at where the first stars were appearing on the edge of the blue-green horizon, still just illuminated by the last shreds of sunlight, like a candle through a window.
"So," Richard said as a conversation about a recent children's movie remake dwindled into silence, with the tone of someone who's been wondering how to bring something up all night. "Tessa mentioned your situation. With your dad's will?"
"She did?" Kathy cringed. "God, no wonder this has been so awkward. I'm so sorry."
"It's fine," Richard said quickly. "Seriously. I'm not gonna pretend it isn't kind of a weird situation, but it's not like it's unbelievable or anything."
"It feels pretty unbelievable to me," Kathy confessed, scuffing at the sand. She'd taken her shoes off and was carrying them in one hand, her toes buried in the softness of the shore.
"So, what are your plans?" he asked. "If you find someone, I mean. Are you going to keep the kid? I mean, technically, you could give it up for adoption, right?"
"Technically, but I couldn't," Kathy replied. "I'd never be able to live with it, just having a kid for the money and them dumping them that way. Whatever else happens, if I have this kid I'm going to keep it and raise it as well as I can. I owe it that much."
"But beyond that?" Richard raised an eyebrow, the curve of his cheek lit by the rising moon.
"Beyond that, I have no idea," Kathy said with a sigh. "What about you? Any plans to have a family?"
"Well, yeah," Richard said at once. "I'm really looking forward to it, actually. I know I was going on about the whole self-improvement thing earlier, but it's really just about getting ready for that, you know? Being the best me I can be for when that happens. Being married, sharing a home with someone—making lunches and folding laundry, eating dinner with someone every night, watching TV together after the kids are in bed, the yard, the dog, the white picket fence, the whole domestic thing just gets to me, you know? I can't wait for it!"
Kathy would have doubted such enthusiasm was sincere from anyone else, but Richard somehow made it convincing. He even made it seem kind of appealing.
"That does sound kind of nice," she admitted. "I haven't really been thinking about it that way. I've just sort of been dreading it since I found out about the will."
"Listen," Richard stopped, and the paused on the edge of the water, the surf just brushing against Kathy's toes. "I know we just met and it's a weird situation. But if this is something we both want, I don't see why we couldn't…you know, try to work it out together. Relationships have started weirder ways."
"I don't know." Kathy looked away, uncomfortable. "I don't want to do this with just anyone."
"I'm not saying we should get married right now," Richard reassured her with a laugh, reaching for her hands. "I'm just saying, what if we keep seeing each other knowing from the start we’ll get the outcome that we're both hoping for? Wouldn't it be a relief to know from the get-go that neither of us is looking for a one-night stand or a casual relationship?"
"Yeah, you're right," Kathy gave in with a small nod. "I mean, that was one of the things I was worried about tonight…"
"And just think if it works!" Richard smiled, bright and endearing. "The life we could build together! The house in the suburbs, somewhere with good schools. You can garden during the day, and we'll have dinner together every night—"
"That could be kind of difficult with my work," Kathy said, frowning.
"Well, you'd quit when you got pregnant of course," Richard said at once, quickly and dismissively as though it were irrelevant and already decided. "We'd be on the PTA together and take vacations to Disney World—"
"I'm not going to quit my job." Kathy yanked her hands from his and stepped back.
"What, you're going to be delivering the evening news while you're nine months pregnant?" Richard asked, wrinkling his nose in annoyance. "Breastfeeding while you predict next week’s weather?"
"Maternity leave exists for a reason," Kathy said stiffly. "And I'm not a weather girl."
"Keeping a job as stressful as yours while pregnant or raising a child just isn't practical," Richard insisted.
"Which is why I wanted someone around for help and support!" Kathy squared her shoulders, defensive. "If you think it's so impossible to work and raise a kid, maybe you should quit your job!"
"I make more money than you! It doesn't make any sense for me to be the one who quits his job!"
"My career is an important part of my identity. You said you didn't even care about yours!"
"This is ridiculous—I'm not going to have this argument."
Richard turned around and started stomping back up the beach without her. She followed, too offended to let it go.
"Why? Because your whole idea of 'domestic bliss' is a sexist relic?" she snapped.
"Because we're not married!" Richard shouted, turning back towards her in exasperation. "This whole hypothetical fight is just silly!"
"You're the one who brought up us working towards getting married," Kathy pointed out. "We're going to have this conversation eventually. It's a pretty basic issue of how we see our future together!"
