Page 25 of Pity Parade

“Never.”

“Why do you think you had one now?”

Looking out at the duck family, I tell him, “I lost my job.”

“Midwestern Matchmaker?”

“Yeah. The network thought we were too tame, and they wanted us to start creating drama for the cast to make things more entertaining for the audience.” I glance toward him and find him staring at me intently.

When he finally speaks, he says, “I’m having a little identity crisis myself lately.”

I take a sip of coffee and let the bitter brew travel across my tastebuds. “How so?”

He takes so long to answer, I’m not sure he’s going to. He finally says, “I think we have a lot of different incarnations during our lifetime.”

“I think you’re right,” I agree. “I just can’t figure out what my next one is meant to be.”

“You don’t want to stay in television?”

“I’m not sure television wants me anymore,” I confess. I don’t mention the show that Tom is planning. Instead, I explain, “I’m not feeling sorry for myself or anything. I’m just saying that no one seems interested in the kind of shows I want to make.”

“What kind of shows are those?” he asks.

Even while I question why I’m being so honest with Heath, I can’t seem to stop myself from telling him, “I want to make programs people can watch as a family. Nothing with an age warning.”

His head bobs up and down. “I don’t watch a lot of TV, but I recently read an article that said the Mature Audience rating is taking over.”

“When I was a kid,” I tell him, “my family had one television and we had to agree on what shows to watch. My brother and I complained bitterly, but looking back, I realize that we spent real quality time together as a result.” My gaze shifts to the side. “We watched a lot of Family Feud.”

He looks almost vexed when he says, “I’m guessing you’ll raise your kids in the same way.”

“I plan to.” That is, if I ever meet anyone to have a family with. As much as I say I’m happy to adopt, my first hope would be to share my DNA with the man I love and create miniature versions of ourselves. How egocentric is that?

Then, before I can stop myself, I stare at Heath and wonder what our kids would look like. I’m suddenly unable to form a coherent thought.

CHAPTER TWELVE

HEATH

I’m in the emotional danger zone talking to Trina so unguardedly. Yet when I woke up and saw her down by the lake, I knew I had to go to her. I cautioned myself to stay away, even while pouring two cups of coffee. The warnings continued as I made my way down the pier.

Trying to turn the conversation away from her future family, I tell her, “I’ve been feeling very discontented in my life lately.”

“How so?” she wants to know.

“I’m starting to think I’m sick of my job.”

“You’re tired of being a real estate developer?” She sounds surprised.

“Last year I started to feel the need to tear buildings down and create green space. I started to crave more nature and fewer crowds.”

“There can’t be much money in that.” It sounds like she thinks money is the prime motivation in my life. But if I’m being honest, that’s probably how most people see me.

“I’ve made a decent amount of money,” I tell her. “But lately I’ve been wondering what kind of legacy I want to leave the world.”

“Beyond having your name on dozens of buildings all over the globe?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

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