Next question .
But when I tell Kari I’m an only child , her mouth drops with pity.
“I’d hat e to be an o n ly child,” she says . I just smile because when I was little, I used to pray Amanda would get kidnapped so I could live in peace . This usually happened after Amanda stole my G.I. Jo e ’s and I found them hanging out w ith her Barbie s , or when we watch ed The Little Mermaid everyday for a year , and she made me dress as Eric for Halloween so her best friend could be Ariel and then the y suckered me into a pretend wedding where I had to kiss her friend . I used to lie in bed at night and pray for a brother (e ven though the thought of my parents actually having sex scared me more than the thought of being abducted by aliens and used for medical experiments ) . I wanted brothers to r ough house with . I wanted wrestl ing matches that would put hair on my chest . Guys I knew that grew up with brothers have these great fishing stories . They have scars from all the fights they’ve been in . I have stories of dressing up in drag when my sister convinced me to play “b eauty s alon ” with her and her friends .
“I’ve always wanted a sibling,” I finally say .
“I think it would be so cool to have a twin,” Kari says. S he can’t help that she’s hitting below the belt, but the date is already as fun as a formal job interview so why not throw another awkward log on the fire ?
My mind drifts to Dylan . All our moments together were so hilarious . We killed hours in restaurants because we were babbling too much to eat and laughing so hard one of us cho ked or snorted at least once per meal . We were too busy analyzing the people around us— writing the biogr aphy of the cook or the bus boy or our waitress —to bother talking about ourselves . It was always an escape . We would challenge each other to do the stupidest things . Try to drink soup with a fork . Use our opposite hand to eat . Write a thirty - second commercial segment advertising the restaurant . Fit as much food into our mouths as we c ould and try to say a comprehens ible sentence . W e embraced eternal immaturity .
I shake my head at the memory . What was wrong with that relationship ? Or, worse, was everything right ? Maybe Dylan’s always going to come in first . Everybody else will have to settle for a distant second .
I stare across the table at Kari and I’m completely turned off . S he’s gorgeous and sweet , but I feel nervous around her , and by the time the steak comes I barely have an appetite .
Kari starts talking about family and then she hits me with:
“So, Gray, do you want to have kids?” I sit up straighter . This is worse than small talk . This is serious relationship talk and we’re not even through our official screening date yet .
“Uh,” I say . I smooth the napkin o n my lap a nd stall . I want to tell her I’m only
nineteen years old and parenthood isn’t an impending concern of mine at the moment .
“I want five kids,” she announces , and stares me up and down like she’s evaluating m y sperm strength . “Three boys and two girls . I already have their names picked out,” she says .
I tell her that’s great . I tell her I love kids, which I do, not that I want to procreate any time soon . Then , she informs me she wants to live in the Southwest to stay close to her parents . She thinks Yuma , Arizona has a lot of potential and would be a great community for raising a family . She likes small towns . She eyes me critically over the rim of her glass . She wants to know what I think ab o ut th is .
I think you’re scaring the hell out of me .
“I prefer big cities,” I say .
“I would consider a big city,” she says, “ if there was a decent income coming in. ” She raises a thin eyebrow . “ Do you plan on playing pro fessional baseball after college?” she asks , pretending i t’s a casual question , but I know what she’s getting at . I play my get-out-of-jail-free card
But when I tell Kari I’m an only child , her mouth drops with pity.
“I’d hat e to be an o n ly child,” she says . I just smile because when I was little, I used to pray Amanda would get kidnapped so I could live in peace . This usually happened after Amanda stole my G.I. Jo e ’s and I found them hanging out w ith her Barbie s , or when we watch ed The Little Mermaid everyday for a year , and she made me dress as Eric for Halloween so her best friend could be Ariel and then the y suckered me into a pretend wedding where I had to kiss her friend . I used to lie in bed at night and pray for a brother (e ven though the thought of my parents actually having sex scared me more than the thought of being abducted by aliens and used for medical experiments ) . I wanted brothers to r ough house with . I wanted wrestl ing matches that would put hair on my chest . Guys I knew that grew up with brothers have these great fishing stories . They have scars from all the fights they’ve been in . I have stories of dressing up in drag when my sister convinced me to play “b eauty s alon ” with her and her friends .
“I’ve always wanted a sibling,” I finally say .
“I think it would be so cool to have a twin,” Kari says. S he can’t help that she’s hitting below the belt, but the date is already as fun as a formal job interview so why not throw another awkward log on the fire ?
My mind drifts to Dylan . All our moments together were so hilarious . We killed hours in restaurants because we were babbling too much to eat and laughing so hard one of us cho ked or snorted at least once per meal . We were too busy analyzing the people around us— writing the biogr aphy of the cook or the bus boy or our waitress —to bother talking about ourselves . It was always an escape . We would challenge each other to do the stupidest things . Try to drink soup with a fork . Use our opposite hand to eat . Write a thirty - second commercial segment advertising the restaurant . Fit as much food into our mouths as we c ould and try to say a comprehens ible sentence . W e embraced eternal immaturity .
I shake my head at the memory . What was wrong with that relationship ? Or, worse, was everything right ? Maybe Dylan’s always going to come in first . Everybody else will have to settle for a distant second .
I stare across the table at Kari and I’m completely turned off . S he’s gorgeous and sweet , but I feel nervous around her , and by the time the steak comes I barely have an appetite .
Kari starts talking about family and then she hits me with:
“So, Gray, do you want to have kids?” I sit up straighter . This is worse than small talk . This is serious relationship talk and we’re not even through our official screening date yet .
“Uh,” I say . I smooth the napkin o n my lap a nd stall . I want to tell her I’m only
nineteen years old and parenthood isn’t an impending concern of mine at the moment .
“I want five kids,” she announces , and stares me up and down like she’s evaluating m y sperm strength . “Three boys and two girls . I already have their names picked out,” she says .
I tell her that’s great . I tell her I love kids, which I do, not that I want to procreate any time soon . Then , she informs me she wants to live in the Southwest to stay close to her parents . She thinks Yuma , Arizona has a lot of potential and would be a great community for raising a family . She likes small towns . She eyes me critically over the rim of her glass . She wants to know what I think ab o ut th is .
I think you’re scaring the hell out of me .
“I prefer big cities,” I say .
“I would consider a big city,” she says, “ if there was a decent income coming in. ” She raises a thin eyebrow . “ Do you plan on playing pro fessional baseball after college?” she asks , pretending i t’s a casual question , but I know what she’s getting at . I play my get-out-of-jail-free card
Similar Books
