“Wow.Okay.” She swallowed and shifted beside me. “Um, doyamean, like,ever?”
Chewing,I put my sandwich down and explained, “I mean, if you were with someone andcrazy about ‘em, would youwannaget married?”
“Oh,God, I thought you wereaskin’ me to marryyou,”she laughed, relaxing.
Igrunted, stuffing a fry into my mouth. “Well, I guess one of thoseif we’reforty and still unmarriedpacts is out of the question, then.”
Herlaughter waned and her smile faded. “Wait, you’re serious?”
“Nope.Never mind.” I shook my head, lifting my hands, palms out. “Forget I saidanything.”
“Comeon, Chad.Seriously.”
Ichuckled. “I was justaskin’ if you ever plan ongetting married.Nothin’ serious.”
“Idunno. I’ve never really thought about it. I mean, Iguess if I ever met someone I was madly in love with, then sure. I’d getmarried.”
Thatseemed natural. Towannamarry the person you were inlove with. Towannaspend your life with them, evenif one of you spends half the year touring the world with his band. I mean, isthat ideal? Maybe not. But love isn’t always ideal, is it? My friends wereproof of that. Devin was in love with his wife, Kylie, for years before he evenadmitted his feelings for her. Sebastian fell in love with his son’s aunt andJon’s first wife passed away suddenly. But one thing they all had in commonwas, they took what they were given and made the best of it. They never gaveup.
Becausethat’s what you do.
That’swhatIwanted to do, and now Iworried I’d spend my entire lifewantinginstead ofhaving.
“Why?”Molly carefully asked, and I wanted to tell her. I was practically dying to layit all out for her. Like how I was slowly opening my eyes and maybe seeingthings for the way they really were with my girlfriend. But the stubborn ass inme couldn’t admit defeat that easily, couldn’t show that tiniest bit ofweakness, and I lifted one shoulder in a shrug.
“Nothin’. I was justwonderin’.”
Shehummed reflectively and chewed slowly. “You know, honestly, I never think aboutthis stuff anymore.”
“Oh,no?”
“Nope,”she said, shaking her head. “What’s the sense inwantin’things we don’t have the means ofhavin’ right now?”
Icocked my head and squinted from underneath the bill of my cap. “You’re tellingme you wish fornothin’?”
Mollysmoothed a stray hair out of her eyes as she turned away. “I learned a longtime ago thatwishin’ is a waste of time. So, I threwout my list, and now I work for the things I canactually get,and the things I can’t, I waste none of my time withwantin’them.”
Atthe mention of her wish list, my jaw set and ached under the pressure of mygrinding teeth. I couldn’t help wondering if that was my fault. It left mefeeling jarred and uncomfortable, assuming Molly wanted nothing for her ownfuture while I was pathetically desperate for a wife and a family. It feltsimilar tobeing in two separate boats, with mine headingtoward an island, while hers was setting out to sea without a paddle or acompass. It seemed backward somehow. You normally hear about women scramblingfor husbands and babies, you hear about the perpetual bachelors, and this feltso reversed, it was almost unreal.
“Thatbothers you,” she assessed coyly, pointing a chip in my direction beforepopping it in her mouth. “Women are allowed to besingle andchildless,you know.”
“Nah,it’s not that,” I grunted, crossing my arms. “I just don’t want you to sellyourself short. If you don’twannafind a guy and getmarried, that’s cool. Be your badass, independent self. But if you’re just …givingup,‘causeyou think youwon’t find someone orsomethin’, then—”
“Oh,my God,” she guffawed, rolling her eyes. “Too heavy, man.”
“Sorry.”I forced my lighthearted laugh, and we continued eating our lunch. Molly turnedon the TV and we ate quietly to a backdrop ofFriends. I fell into more thoughts and questions of what Ishould’ve done in the past, and the things I should do now, and how I was goingto make it right. If I couldevermake it right.
But I found her, Ithought, glancing toward Molly as she giggled around a bite of roasted veggies.Took me over a decade, but I found her, and for now, that’ll have to do.
11
ToNever Disappoint Mama
MOLLY
“ARE YOUALL SETto go, baby?” Mama asked as I sat down at the table with her, Hank, Connie, andConnie’s husband, Mark.
I’djust played my last show at the Locust Lounge before the tour started. Myregulars had all showed up to cheer me on, and while I floated on their loveand support, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about leaving this behind.I had become so accustomed and comfortable with my regular spot at the Lounge.I knew Donnie and I knew so many of the friendly faces, but I also knew betterthan to let the old anxieties sully my performance.
