“Oh shit,” we both said at the same time.
“Jesus Christ,” Kori said, glancing between the two of us. “Are your lives always this dramatic? Who the hell are you people?”
IT WENT as well as expected.
Which is to say it didn’t go very well at all.
Especially when I said, “I did what I thought was best. What I thought was right. I will do whatever I can to keep you safe. To keep you from hurting.”
And the Kid said, “No more. You don’t get to decide for me anymore.”
It felt like I lost something that day. Something I wasn’t even aware I could lose.
IT SEEMED like I didn’t see him much that summer. We’d always been so intertwined in each other’s lives that I felt the loss keenly. It probably wasn’t the healthiest relationship, but for a long time, it felt like all we’d had was each other. That wasn’t necessarily true, but I hadn’t done anyone any favors by pushing those around us away all those years before and clutching the Kid close to my chest.
“It’ll be okay,” Otter told me late one night. “He’ll come around. He always does.”
“Your optimism is annoying.”
He chuckled quietly in the dark. “You love it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled as he pulled me closer, making sure my head was on his pillow, just how he liked it. My back was against his bare chest, and I grabbed his arms, making sure they were tight around me.
And it was later, when I was about to drift off, when he said, “It’s going to be like this, you know. Sometimes.”
“Hmm?”
“When we have a kid.”
I was wide-awake after that. “It is?”
He snorted against my neck, which was both disgusting and amazing at the same time. “I’m pretty sure having a child means that they may love you, but they don’t have to like you all the time. And I’m pretty sure the opposite is true.”
“Then what is the point? I thought having a kid meant you would always have someone who reveres you? Why would I want to bring someone into the world who’s going to treat me like I’m the asshole?”
“Sometimes, you are the—”
“I’m pretty sure sleeping on the couch is an option right now.”
“Why would you want to sleep on the couch?”
“I didn’t mean me, you—and now you’re laughing. You suck.”
“You never complain.”
“That was terrible. You should feel embarrassed.”
“And yet.”
I absolutely did not have to smother a laugh, because he wasn’t funny.
“You….”
“What?” I asked.
“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
And he sounded so unlike himself, so hesitant, that I had to turn around just so I could see his face and he could see mine. He grunted as my elbow went places that were undoubtedly uncomfortable for him but still looked slightly apprehensive as I faced him, so close that our noses brushed together. His eyes glittered in the dark, and I reached up to trace my fingers over his brow, smoothing it out.