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I can feel her breathing stop just for a second before she speaks. “Those aren’t simple questions, Eli. They’re just not.”
“I never asked for something simple in return. It can be hard, complicated, or even I don’t know if that’s the truth. Just tell me your answers, whatever they are.”
“Marriage can change people. I’ve seen it. You can be a couple and have fun, travel, experience life, and all the things, but then once that piece of paper happens, it changes everything.”
“So, your short answer is no.”
“I didn’t say no. There would have to be, I don’t know, rules, I guess. Like, I don’t want to go to bed pissed off unless I’m guaranteed make-up sex. I would want to know my dreams won’t be sacrificed or theirs either, for that matter. We’d promise to try and grow together and be understanding of change.”
“Those are some pretty tall orders.”
“You asked me. You’re the only one who ever has. I have a question for you though. Aren’t you scared to get married again?”
“I know how good marriage can be, but I also know how quickly it can turn to shit. That doesn’t mean that, for the right person, I wouldn’t be willing to try again.”
“I know you want kids.”
“I wanted two by now. That hasn’t changed. I’ve always known I wanted to be a father. I want to pass down all the traditions to my own kids that Pops and my dad gave me. I want to be able to sit at my desk and hand the crest ring over to my son or daughter. I want to play bad tennis and hack a round of golf. I want to teach the waltz and wear a tiara, if I’m asked, for a tea party. I want a child to take over for me as I am for my father, should they choose.”
“When you have good models for it, that comes naturally. I’m on the other side of it. When you don’t get the support you need, or feel like you can count them, you doubt your own ability and desires to pass that along.” She finally pulls her head up, resting her chin on my chest. I can’t see her eyes fully in the darkness, but every once in a while, I can catch their shimmer. “Where is this coming from, Eli?”
“Nowhere in particular. I just wanted to ask.”
“To answer your question, someday I would like kids, when I’m done dancing that is. I don’t want to ask what might have been. That’s not fair to me or the kid.”
I start stroking her back again. “You’re right. It’s not.”
Dylan
My eyes start to hover in that amazing place between sleep and awake. I can sense it’s still dark in the bedroom. I’m so warm beneath the down comforter; I don’t want to move. My shortconversation with Eli faded into silence, then I fell asleep to the rhythm of his fingers. If I think about it hard enough, I can still feel them moving.
It’s so quiet here. I have zero concept of time, which is fine by me. I’ve worked so long and hard all semester to keep up with my classwork, AnSa, and the showcase, I’d almost forgotten what sleep is beyond the one day Eli forced me into it. I can feel the blankets riding across my cheek nearly hiding my eyes.
I turn my head under the duvet so the first thing I do see when I open my eyes is Eli. My hand reaches out to touch him. The bed is cold and empty. “Eli?” I pull the blankets down just enough. He’s gone. His pillows are in his typical V shape, one on each side of where his head would be, but he’s missing. “Eli?” I call his name again with no answer.
After rolling to my back and flipping the blankets off, I’m immediately freezing. I don’t remember where the lights are, so I grab my phone, finding the flashlight. The time on the clock also catches my eye. It’s one thirty-seven. It’s afternoon. Shit.
The robe from last night’s hot tub adventure is at the foot of the bed. I wrap tight inside and dig inside my bag for anything to cover my feet. Instantly life is better. My phone guides me to the door. The natural light from the outside floods the hallway. I follow it back to the family room and the kitchen.
Eli is curled up with the television on low. Hockey is on the screen. He’s in his gray sweats with a vintage Minnesota Twins sweatshirt, no doubt gifted to him by his grandfather. His hair is a beautiful mess with a one-day, unshaven face. He’s toying with the bow of his glasses between his teeth as he watches the puck travel up and down the ice. “Hey,” I say quietly.
His warm smile greets my voice. “Hey there, beautiful. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to wake up at all today. Feel okay?”
I slowly shuffle, bundled with my arms around me, to his side. He moves his feet so I can tuck in close to his body under his waiting arm. “I think it all hit me at once. Sometimes after big shows, I end up sick because I’ve been running on coffee and chocolate.”
“Do you feel sick now?” he asks.
“No. I’m okay. Just groggy.”
“I won’t let you run on just those things so the spoiling starts right now.”
“Starts? What was last night then?”
With a look of satisfaction, he states, “Purely selfish, I assure you. But this isyourvacation. I have a few things planned. We’ll start with being lazy all day. We can stay just like this, and I’ll feed you.”
“Okay, again you hit the two best things. You told me I’m beautiful, and you’re going to feed me.”
He settles his glasses back on his face before he kisses my forehead. “You’re more than beautiful. I’m going to get you a glass of orange juice. Would you like breakfast or lunch? I have options for both. I’m a whiz with online grocery shopping.”
