by Lori L. Otto
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” I explain, moving her wet hair off her face and behind her ear. “I just meant–”
“I know what you meant. I just don’t like the wording. It’s so negative.”
“Well, it wouldn’t exactly be a positive thing if you were to get pregnant.”
“We’re making sure that’s not going to happen in the morning. It’s a neutral thing right now, okay? And positive or negative… those aren’t exactly scientific terms. They’re opinions. What you see as negative could be positive to someone else,” she says, getting suddenly defensive.
“Well, it is a fact that I would ruin any kid of mine.”
“No, that’s still an opinion,” she says, sitting up in the bed.
“Genetics are scientific, Shea. Excuse me if I think having a baby wouldn’t be the greatest thing to happen to me.”
“I love how you bring up what you consider facts to try to shut me down. You wanna talk about your genetics? Let’s go there,” she says passionately. “I’m sorry, Will, I’ve met your mother. I’ve spent the last week with her and I see the kind of woman she is. Yeah, she struggled with her demons, but she’s been sober for, what, ten years now? You, yourself, aren’t holding that against her anymore. But for those ten years she had to withstand the caustic words and cold shoulder of her adult son, both of which undoubtedly made her crave a drink every damn day.”
I get out of bed and throw my robe on, in relative disbelief of her confrontation. “Thanks for that,” I say sarcastically.
“Then she has another son who tried her faith and made her reexamine her whole belief system, and look how far she’s come. She’s made significant changes in her life to accommodate you and Max to make sure that you both know how much you’re loved and accepted and forgiven by her.
“I think she’s an admirable woman, and if you ever have children that are anything like the person she is now, I would hope you’d be very proud of them.”
I cross my arms, my arsenal still equipped to fight this battle. “Well, you haven’t met my father yet.”
She stands up and squares off across the bed from me, now mirroring my stance. “According to you, you don’t know him very well, either. From what you’ve told me, I don’t think those traits are hereditary anyway, Will. Those things are learned behaviors. He hung out with the wrong people. He did drugs. He was in jail. You can’t blame this on genetics, either. Genetics is a copout, so if you want to come up with a different reason why you don’t want to have children, by all means, you can work on that.”
I have no clue what to say.
“You have a lot of time to think about it,” she continues. “I don’t want kids for a long time, which is why I’m on the pill and all for going and getting this Plan B tomorrow. I do not want children right now, so this argument over what we want isn’t going to be the end of us.”
I hadn’t thought it would be. It never crossed my mind, and it scares me that it crossed hers.
“If, by the time I do want children, you still don’t, then that’s a conversation we have, but there’s a lot of time for you to rethink things and make a decision.” She unfolds her arms and sits down on the bed, her back to me. “I’m not going to worry about that right now… because right now I really care about you and you’re the person I want to spend my current life with. I don’t see myself being with anyone else. You’re everything I want right now. This is how I want it to be.”
I crawl over the bed to sit next to her, running my hand up and down her back. She looks up at me and speaks once more. “Just because you don’t want something that I want five or ten years down the line, that’s not going to stop me from doing something that I want to do today.”
“Okay,” I say to her. She nods. “I’m not exactly sure if you were trying to talk me into having kids someday, or if you were trying to talk yourself into staying with a man who wasn’t sure he wanted to have them.”
I notice her eyes begin to water just as she reaches up to put her arms around my neck.
“Oh, God, Shea. Whoa.” I hold her against me as she cries, devoid of the words that would assure her of her future. This is my first adult relationship, let’s face it. The first time I would ever even consider having kids with anyone, and it’s still early in our relationship, if we were to plot it on a timeline. But I know our feelings are much further along–I’m not sure what wormhole they traveled through to get there, but I’ve known her for just two months and it already felt necessary that she meet my family. I almost told her I loved her tonight. When she mentioned ‘the end of us,’ my stomach dropped and it felt like I had lost my world for that split second I imagined that she was gone.
For so long, it’s just been a fact of my life that I didn’t want kids. Like I have dark brown hair. Or I hate asparagus. I get my energy from the sun and I love the night sky. I don’t want kids. It’s because every relation I’ve had with a woman has been temporary and unmemorable–unmemorable because I wanted to forget her and the ingrained weakness in me that forced me to be with her in the first place. That’s why I so rarely slept with the same woman more than once. Don’t make memories. I never wanted to hear ‘remember last time’ or ‘see you next time.’
I have dark brown hair.
I hate asparagus.
I get my energy from the sun and I love the night sky.
I don’t want kids.
Every once in a while, I order asparagus, just to see if my tastes have changed. Although they haven’t yet, I still leave my options open.
I should give Shea a little hope.
Chapter 20
It’s late at night, and I’m watching the lights as we pass them by. I’d been in somewhat of a hypnotic state with my eyes blurred for the better part of thirty minutes until a Nerf ball hit me in the ass. Since sleep just isn’t coming–as it hasn’t since I left New York two weeks ago–I decide to get out of my bunk. I knew Damon and Tavo were up, but I’m surprised to see Peron in a chair with his guitar.
“More insomnia?” Damon asks.
“Yeah,” I say, tugging at my hair in frustration. I thought Shea had cured me, but ever since the night of our argument, something has felt unsettled between us, and it’s definitely taking its toll on me. Tavo tosses me a plastic gun. I point it at my temple and pull the trigger twice, not getting any relief from the foam balls that pelt my head. “It’s no use.”
“That’s not why I gave it to you, man. Stop being so morbid.”
“I need something…” I say, edgy. “I can’t keep this up. Six hours over the past three nights? And I feel tired. I used to not feel tired.”
“What do you want? Couple shots of whiskey’d fix you up,” Tavo suggests.
“I don’t know…”
“We could stop at a drug store and get some sleep aid or something!” Ben hollers from the driver’s seat.
“That’d really fuck with my circadian rhythms. Don’t want to mess with those.”
“We could stop… at a bar,” Damon says. I stare at him with uncertainty.
“He doesn’t want to drink,” Tavo says.
“I don’t think they’re talking about drinking,” Peron says. “Will, come sit down and write.”
“I got nothin’.”
“Ben, find us a club or something. Someplace crowded,” Damon says.
“Go call Shea first,” our bassist says. I shake my head. “I will personally pin you down on this bus until you call her. I’m not even kidding you.”
“Call her,” Damon agrees, surprising me. He’s supposed to be the devil on my shoulder to Peron’s angel.
I take my phone into Ben’s room and shut the door for a little extra privacy. Shea picks up on the first ring. “Please tell me you’re in a hotel tonight.”
“On the bus,” I say solemnly.
“Shit.”
“Why?” She doesn’t answer right away. “Shea, why?”
“Check your texts.”
I put her on speakerphone a
nd open the messaging app, only to see a picture of her wearing nothing but red, lacy panties. “Jesus Christ, Shea.”
“I want you so bad right now–”
“Ohhhh!” the guys shout from right outside the door. I immediately take her off speaker and pray that she didn’t hear them.
“I’m in a bad place,” I say to her quickly.
“Can you maybe go in the bathroom?”
“No, I mean… mentally, I’m in a bad place right now, and this fucking picture is not helping me at all. I love it, don’t get me wrong, but I can’t sleep and I need to sleep and I’m desperate.”
“And you wanna fuck someone?” Now that she’s put it out there, and said it like that, it doesn’t sound like as good an idea as it did five minutes ago.
“I wish you were here.”
“So you do wanna fuck someone…”
“I want to sleep,” I plead with her, frustrated. “There’s a huge difference.”
“That’s cute,” she says with faux laughter. “I thought you had a fix for this. I thought, you know, thinking of me could get you to sleep now.”
“It used to, but something’s different. Ever since Christmas, something’s changed. Don’t you feel it?” I ask her.
“What do you mean? What do you feel?”
“I feel like something is unsettled. Like… like something’s dangling out there, a conversation’s unfinished or something.”
“I can’t think of anything. You said you’d think about kids. I feel like that’s settled, don’t you?” she asks.
“I do,” I admit, and I have been thinking about children. We spent a lot of time with Edie and I’m not gonna lie, I could actually see myself with a kid of my own someday. I can’t say I want one, but it’s not the worst idea in the world. I haven’t told Shea that because it’s still too new for me, but it’s a possibility, anyway. And seeing her with Edie? I fell even harder for her, seeing how nurturing and perceptive she was. I think my niece fell in love with her, too.
“That was the only argument we had.”
“Yeah.” My mind lingers on my last thought… how I fell even harder for her, and I did.
I fell deeper.
In love.
With Shea.
I don’t want to cheat on someone that I could see being the mother to my children in a few years. I would never want to ruin ‘us’ just for a temporary fix that might yield me one good night’s sleep. I need a permanent solution. I need to settle the unsettled and get my head back to the space it was before Christmas… when I felt like everything was perfect with Shea. When I felt like I’d done everything right and said everything that should have been said.
I take a deep breath to make sure all the words are full and clear.
“I love you, Shea.” Immediately, I feel unburdened.
“What?”
I felt like I’d enunciated everything well, but I happily say it again. “I love you, Shea.” It was even easier the second time around.
“Will?”
“Yeah?” I ask her, smiling, feeling pretty fucking good about myself.
“Are you sure?”
“Yep,” I say, confident. “No more falling. I’ve fallen. I fell hard, and I love you. And fuck, I just realized you didn’t say it–”
“I just didn’t want to be the first because I thought you’d never say it and I didn’t want to make it weird for you. I love you. I love you, Will. I’m pretty sure my stupid heart felt it the moment you left my restaurant the first night.”
“Why then?”
“Because it felt a tinge of pain when you walked away.”
“I hope your heart never feels that pain for real, Shea.”
The bus comes to a stop and I look outside the windows. There aren’t any clubs around–just a gas station and a restaurant.
“Will, we’re all going to grab a bite,” Damon says after knocking softly on the door. “Come join us when you’re done.”
“And get out of my room, please,” Ben adds.
“Clean up after yourself!” Tavo yells before the door closes.
I grin and pull up the picture of Shea, putting her back on speakerphone and returning to my bunk. “I’m alone,” I tell her, closing the curtains.
“Alone, alone?” she asks.
“My imaginary girl is here with me in her sexy red panties, and she’s hot for me… but other than that, alone.”
“And what is my guy wearing?”
I start to get undressed as I answer her. “Nothing but a big, grateful smile.”
“Show me.”
“You’ve got a full moon goin’ on in there, man,” Peron says, waking me up.
I squint at the sunlight. “Huh? It’s daytime.”
“Your ass, you ass.”
I look down to see the bed sheets barely covering only the front half of my body as I lay on my side, facing the window. “Why’re you lookin’ anyway?” I yank the sheet back over my backside.
“Because we’re in Kansas and it’s lunchtime and you’ve got to be hungry. You can come nap when we get back… or will we need to leave you to jack off again so you can catch some more Zs for that?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Get your bare ass out of bed and get showered.”
“Yeah, it smells like heartfelt sentiment and cum in there,” Damon adds.
I throw my pillow out of my bunk. “Fuck every last one of you.”
After I’m cleaned up and dressed, I walk with Peron to meet up with the rest of the guys at a sports bar across the street. Damon and Tavo were hoping to see the Rangers/Devils game, and were willing to bribe a bartender to make it happen.
“Glad to see you worked something out,” my friend says, patting me on the shoulder.
“Thanks for having my back.”
“So what did it? And I know it wasn’t rubbing one out–no way in hell you’ve gone two weeks without–”
“Per, we will never be good enough friends to discuss that, all right?” I tell him, laughing as we enter the bar. Before we make it to the table, I admit to him what happened. “I told her I love her.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I knew when I put her on that plane back to Minneapolis that something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Everything was great over the holidays. My family loved her. She fit in perfectly. We had a great time together. Had one minor disagreement but worked it out. We even talked about the PhD program and where that’ll take me over the next two years, and she was okay with it all.
“Something wasn’t sitting right with me, though. I realized I hadn’t been completely open and honest with her, like I’d been up until that point. So, I just laid it out there for her.”
“And?”
“And she was happy about it. She said she loves me, too.”
He stops and looks around. “Did we just walk into a hair salon or a bar?”
“Man, fuck you! You asked.”
He laughs and puts his arm around me. “I’m happy for you.”
“Ben, find a chair for Will,” Damon says as we walk up to the table set for four.
“I’ll get my own,” I tell him, walking a few tables over and stealing a barstool.
“Rangers are up by two,” Tavo says, nodding at a big screen behind me.
“Feeling rested?” Ben asks.
“Like a new man.”
“We ordered for you,” our drummer says as he nods to the waitress behind me. I lean to the side, allowing her to set two plates down in front of me.
“A hot dog and a taco,” I say, nonplussed.
“A wiener and a soft taco,” he corrects me.
“This was your idea, I presume.” He nods. “Just a plain hot dog?” Tavo picks up a bottle of mayo and adds a dollop to the tip of it. “What are you, four?”
“What? You got sex on the brain, dude. I can’t help that,” he quips.
I scrape off the condiment and grab the mustard, deciding to eat what they ordered for me,
no matter how immature Tavo’s intentions were.
“Do we have a set list for the show?” I ask, trying to change the subject. Ben hands me his phone, and I scan over the note he’s pulled up for me. “Are we recording anything tonight?”
“I thought I’d set up to record the whole thing. I was reading online that the acoustics in this place are killer.”
“I saw that, too. If you want, I’ll head up there early to scout it out and do some tests with you.”
“Cool.”
“So, Will,” Peron says. “You mentioned something about the PhD program. What’s up with that?” Everyone’s eyes are on me as they wait for an answer. By now, they all know about the European tour, and the fact that I’m not joining them because I want to go back to school, but I’d promised them I’d play with them as much as I could locally or in the states on breaks.
“Well, NYU has a new partnership with the Center for Space Science, so I’d be spending part of my time in Manhattan and part of my time… there.”
“Where is there?” Tavo asks, laughing. “In space?”
“It may as well be,” I answer. “It’s in Abu Dhabi.”
“What the… are you serious?” Damon asks.
“What does that mean for us?”
“It means my availability will be a little sketchy for the next couple of years, that’s all.”
“Shhhhit,” my best friend mumbles, putting down his fork and throwing his paper napkin on his plate. This isn’t exactly how I’d wanted him to find out.
“Let me buy you a drink,” I suggest, nodding to the main bar in hopes of talking to him alone. He follows me there and orders two whiskeys, neat. He shoots the first one, but palms the glass of the second, planning to savor it.
“What’s the time table?” he asks. I give him all the specifics and watch his reactions when he realizes I’ll be gone when they’re in the states, and they’ll be in Europe when I’m in Manhattan later this year. Once we’re done with this tour, I won’t see them again until September of next year, except maybe for the holidays. It’s enough to make me want to do a shot of whiskey. “Holy fuck, Will…”
“Sucks,” I say, feeling genuinely sad.
