CHAPTER 10 |
Dumb Kids & Dumber Mistakes
Everything changed whenwewere twenty.
Two years away at college had taken its toll.It was expected, and we had been strong, but no amount of fighting for eachother could erase those miles. No amount of young love could make the timebetween us disappear. And nothing could have stopped freedom from making mequestion everything.
I wasn’t sure anymore that I wanted RiverCanyon as my permanent home, or if I even wanted a permanent home at all. Ididn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, or what I wanted my life to be.All I knew was that I did want Patrick, but, what did I want from him? Did Iwant a marriage, kids, a three-car garage, and a Golden Retriever? Or did Iwant us to simply … be? Was it even him that I wanted, or the idea of him? Thepoint was, I didn’t know, and after seventeen years of being inseparable, wehad never once discussed any kind of future.
It felt silly, that we could be so much in loveand never talk about such key elements to a relationship. But, I told myself,kids don’t think about that shit. Shit like that didn’t matter to kids; it didn’tmatter tous.
Until it did.
It all came to an end over the phone. Ofeverything in our relationship, it was what I regretted. It was all my fault,and the amount of shame I felt for that phone call was half of the reason I stayedaway for those ten years.
I was afraid he would cry; I had never seen himcry over the age of ten. I was afraid he would be angry; I hated when he wasangry. I was afraid he would hate me; I couldn’t bear the idea of him hatingme.
Simply put, I was afraid, and I took thecoward’s way out. But it was so impersonal, so cold, so disrespectful toeverything we were, but I think …
I think a part of me felt that I wouldn’t beable to do it, had I waited to see him in person.
Hell, maybe that was a sign that I shouldn’thave done it at all, but we all have 20/20 hindsight, don’t we?
“Do you want kids?” I hit him with the questionout of nowhere one night in September. We had barely gotten through with ournightly greetings, and I was ambushing him about offspring.
“Of courseI wantkids.” He answered without hesitation, and then he faltered. “Why are youasking me this? Are you—”
He thought I was pregnant. I clapped a handover my eyes. “Oh God, no, I’m not … I’m not pregnant,” I nervously laughed itoff. “No, I was just thinking that, you know, we’ve never talked about thisstuff before, and …”
“You wanted to know if we were on the samepage.”
“Yeah,” I said, instantly feeling that weweren’t. My heart was sinking, and the air felt stagnant.
“Well? Are we?”
“I don’t know if I want kids.”
“That’s okay.”
I laughed. “Patrick, you just told me that youdefinitely want kids. You didn’t even hesitate, and now, you’re telling me it’sfine to not have them?”
“Kinsey, we’re nothavin’kids now. We have plenty of time.”
“Yeah? Well, what if Ineverwant them?”
“If the choice is you or kids I’ve never evenmet, I will always choose you.”
I shook my head. “Patrick, that’s ridiculous.”
But was it, really? It felt ridiculous at thetime, but looking back, it was sweet. It was noble. It was him, and his lovefor me, and I see now that there was absolutely nothing ridiculous about that.
“Why is it ridiculous?” He was breathing hard.He was getting defensive, one step away from angry.
“Because …” My eyes flitted around my dormroom, scanning the painted brick walls for an answer that couldn’t be found.“It just is.”
He grunted a laugh. “Okay, Kinsey. Sure.Whatever you say.”
“What if I never want to get married?” I shovedthe question through the phone, my only retort to his obnoxious dismissal.
