"The best I can do right now is think about it," I say finally. All I’ve been doing isthinking about it.“And don’t you dare text him or I’ll shave your head myself.”
The text comes that evening as I'm attempting to pack my apartment. So far, I managed to fill exactly a box and a half before collapsing on the couch, exhausted beyond anything that’s normal. I barely have the energy to pick up my phone.
Kasen: Have you decided?
Straight to the point. I can appreciate that.
Me: Not yet.
Kasen: What's holding you back?
I stare at the screen, trying to articulate the tangle of reservations in my head.
Me: So many things.
Me: My independence.
Me: The fact that we've spent years trying to destroy each other.
Kasen: Slight exaggeration, but fair.
Me: What would people think?
Kasen: Since when do you care what people think?
He's right, and it irritates me. I've never given a damn about others' opinions.
Kasen: Let me be clear. This is about giving our kid the best start and getting to know each other. Not about me trying to control you or your business. We can set whatever ground rules you want.
The sincerity in his text catches me off guard. Two months ago, I would have dismissed anything Kasen said as manipulation or trying to fuck me over. Now, I'm not so sure.
Before I can overthink it, I text back,
Me: Fine. But I have conditions.
Kasen: Name them.
I think about everything that could possibly go wrong, and just let my fingers fly across the screen without stopping to think about how wrong some of them feel. I’m not going there.
Me: This is only until I find something else.
Me: We keep separate spaces.
Me: No business talk at home.
Me: We're roommates, not husband and wife. No touching.
I hesitate, then add,
Me: I pay my way. Rent, utilities, groceries—we split everything.
Me: I don’t need you to take care of me.
Kasen's reply is immediate:
Kasen: Is that all, Pink?
Kasen: Easy.
