Page 83 of Problematic Summer Romance

“Do you want a family?” I ask him after a while. “At some point, I mean.”

His windows must be open. I can hear the distant sounds of traffic. “I’m not sure how to explain it.”

“Okay.” I wait, patient. Knowing that he’ll get there. He always does.

“I don’t think that my default state is wanting a family,” he says. “But if I was with the right person, I would want it so much, I wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else. I would constantly imagine that she…” He stops. A sharp breath. Laughter, maybe. “It would require a lot of changes, anyway.”

“Such as?”

“I’d want the parenting to be evenly split. I’d have to restructure my work schedule. My habits.”

“You could do that.”

“Yeah, I…Yeah. What about you? Do you want a family?”

“I love kids. They’re just fun, you know? But I love the idea of having my own kids. I know Eli loathed Mom and Dad, but I had so much fun with them. I would tease them and they’d get all mad at me and then I’d tease them even more, and they’d look at each other as if to say, ‘What evenisthis terrible child we made?’ But with pride. I’d like something like that.” I swallow. “I’d love to make someone feel the way they mademefeel. Like the world doesn’t have to be a terrible, scary, lonely place. Like life can be kind.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long while, and neither do I.

One year, one week earlier

Austin, Texas

“There must be one you hate a bit less.”

“Nope.”

“Come on.”

“Maya, my brothers are all assholes of equal proportions. Which means that they deserve hate in equal proportions.”

“Okay, let’s say…I’m pointing a gun at your head.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am. Use your imagination. Full immersion. I’m pointing a gun at your head—”

“What gun?”

“I don’t know. I don’t knowguns.”

“What kind of Texan are you?”

I roll my eyes. “It’s a rifle. Those long ones that they used a million years ago.”

“Those are difficult to use.”

“Okay, fine. Scratch that. I have a baseball bat in my hands. I could swing it at your head any second.”

“Yeah, that does sound more like you.”

“Right? My anger issues are all aflutter. Anyway, it’s you, me, and the bat. And I’m asking you to choose, among your brothers, one you dislike less than the others. You have time to think about it. No rush.”

He’s silent. I am, too. Tethered together through a satellite that’s a million miles away. I could drive to his house and be there in ten minutes, but I won’t.

“Okay, I’ve got my answer.”

“And?”

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