by Holly Rayner
Kathy would have doubted such enthusiasm was sincere from anyone else, but Richard somehow made it convincing. He even made it seem kind of appealing.
"That does sound kind of nice," she admitted. "I haven't really been thinking about it that way. I've just sort of been dreading it since I found out about the will."
"Listen," Richard stopped, and the paused on the edge of the water, the surf just brushing against Kathy's toes. "I know we just met and it's a weird situation. But if this is something we both want, I don't see why we couldn't…you know, try to work it out together. Relationships have started weirder ways."
"I don't know." Kathy looked away, uncomfortable. "I don't want to do this with just anyone."
"I'm not saying we should get married right now," Richard reassured her with a laugh, reaching for her hands. "I'm just saying, what if we keep seeing each other knowing from the start we’ll get the outcome that we're both hoping for? Wouldn't it be a relief to know from the get-go that neither of us is looking for a one-night stand or a casual relationship?"
"Yeah, you're right," Kathy gave in with a small nod. "I mean, that was one of the things I was worried about tonight…"
"And just think if it works!" Richard smiled, bright and endearing. "The life we could build together! The house in the suburbs, somewhere with good schools. You can garden during the day, and we'll have dinner together every night—"
"That could be kind of difficult with my work," Kathy said, frowning.
"Well, you'd quit when you got pregnant of course," Richard said at once, quickly and dismissively as though it were irrelevant and already decided. "We'd be on the PTA together and take vacations to Disney World—"
"I'm not going to quit my job." Kathy yanked her hands from his and stepped back.
"What, you're going to be delivering the evening news while you're nine months pregnant?" Richard asked, wrinkling his nose in annoyance. "Breastfeeding while you predict next week’s weather?"
"Maternity leave exists for a reason," Kathy said stiffly. "And I'm not a weather girl."
"Keeping a job as stressful as yours while pregnant or raising a child just isn't practical," Richard insisted.
"Which is why I wanted someone around for help and support!" Kathy squared her shoulders, defensive. "If you think it's so impossible to work and raise a kid, maybe you should quit your job!"
"I make more money than you! It doesn't make any sense for me to be the one who quits his job!"
"My career is an important part of my identity. You said you didn't even care about yours!"
"This is ridiculous—I'm not going to have this argument."
Richard turned around and started stomping back up the beach without her. She followed, too offended to let it go.
"Why? Because your whole idea of 'domestic bliss' is a sexist relic?" she snapped.
"Because we're not married!" Richard shouted, turning back towards her in exasperation. "This whole hypothetical fight is just silly!"
"You're the one who brought up us working towards getting married," Kathy pointed out. "We're going to have this conversation eventually. It's a pretty basic issue of how we see our future together!"
"And how do you see our future, Kathy?" Richard held his arms out, as if inviting her to hit him with her best shot. "How do you think this is going to work? You and me both working exactly the same schedules and the kid living at daycare or with a nanny? Is that what you think your dad wanted?"
"I don't know what he wanted!" Kathy shouted, tears stinging her eyes. "I hadn't talked to the man in years!"
"Then what do you want, Kathy?" Richard demanded.
"I don't know!" Kathy put her face in her hands, overwhelmed. "I don't know. I'm still trying to figure all of this out, okay?"
"It's like I was saying before," Richard said more gently. "You can't have everything. It just doesn't work. One way or another, you're going to have to give something up."
Kathy didn't answer. She just couldn't accept it. She was never going to be able to accept it. There had to be some other way.
Richard let the silence stand for a long moment, then sighed.
"All right, I think we're probably both about done for the night," he said. "You want to go home?"
Kathy took a deep breath and settled her nerves.
"Yeah," she said. "Let's go home."
They drove in silence, speaking only to exchange Kathy's address. Kathy stared pensively out through the window, contemplating her options. The world passed by outside in a dark flicker of lights and buildings.
As they pulled up in front of Kathy's apartment, Richard parked and turned off the car. They lingered for a moment in the total silence that was the sudden absence of the engine's background rumble.
"I'm not giving up," Richard said. "I know this didn't go well, but I still think we could make it work."
"Why do you want it to work?" Kathy asked, not looking at him. "I know you want a family, but I can't imagine you'd have much difficulty finding someone willing to make a family with you. So, why do you want to make it work with me? Is it because I'm being forced into this? Because I can't get cold feet and back out?"
"No," Richard said quickly, and then caught himself. "Maybe. I guess getting there is more important to me than who I get there with. I never said my motives were perfect, okay? But I want this, and you need to do this, so why not work together?"
Kathy shook her head.
"I'll think about it," she said, opening the car door. "Thank you, Richard. I'm sorry for being so…you know."
"It's fine," Richard assured her. "You're under a lot of pressure. If you're interested, maybe we could try again next weekend?"
Kathy got out of the car, pausing at the offer.
"Maybe," she agreed. "I'll text you. Good night, Richard."
He said good night and she closed the door, heading upstairs to her apartment. The condo was empty, and Kathy found herself wishing Tessa was there to commiserate with. Instead, she kicked off her heels, washed off her makeup, and fell into her bed. A moment later, her phone lit up, illuminating the blankets she'd pulled over her head.
You home? I thought I heard your door.
It was a text from Tessa. Though Kathy had just been wishing to talk to her friend, suddenly she was tempted to pretend she wasn't there and go to sleep. She picked up the phone and texted back.
Yeah, she wrote.
Tessa responded almost immediately.
How'd it go?
Kathy contemplated how to answer for a long moment. How to describe the awkward disaster that this evening had been?
Bad.
Oh no. Tessa's reply was instantaneous and accompanied by a worried emoji. Was he a creep?
No, he was fine. Kathy poked limply at the buttons of her phone, slow with exhaustion. Nice, good looking. Wants a family. I can’t believe you told him about my dad's will.
I thought it would help hurry things along! The emoji this time had a sheepish blush.
Kathy rolled onto her back with a huff.
But it sounds like he was perfect! Tessa continued. What happened?
He was great. Just boring. No connection.
Maybe one will happen with time?
That's what he said.
So, he's interested in being your baby daddy? Shocked emoji.
Please don't call it that. Yeah.
So, he literally couldn't get any more perfect basically?
Yeah. And I still don't want to do it. Not with him anyway. He wanted me to quit my job and be a housewife.
Oh. Screw him then. Gun emoji, gun emoji, angry face.
That's about how I reacted, Kathy wrote back. I was not at my best tonight.
Honestly hun, you haven't been at your best for a while. I know you like to pretend your dad dying didn't faze you but…
A pause, followed by a shrug emoji.
Kathy didn't know how to reply. She pulled the blankets over her head again and closed her eyes. She just wanted to
sleep and not think about this. A few minutes later her phone chimed with another text.
Get some rest, the message said. We'll talk about it tomorrow.
Kathy was sometimes very grateful to have Tessa for a friend. She wrestled out of her bra without taking off her dress or leaving the bed, dropped it off the edge, and went to sleep.
Chapter Four
In the dream, she was four or five. She could see her hands, small and chubby, pressed to the flat, scratchy office carpet. It was that particular shade of vomitus seventies orange that she would never understand the appeal of. She could see it so clearly, the abrasive nylon fibers, the indented tracks from the wheels of her father's office chair. He was sitting above her, speaking in a low, genial voice into the microphone about community events and traffic.
She'd loved watching him work back then. He'd been so different when he was in front of a microphone, warm and paternal. He'd had this way of laughing, this fond fatherly chuckle, that made it seem like everything was going to be all right. He was rarely, if ever, that way at home—when he did come home. Those had been the good days when he was working at the local radio station and he was home almost every night.
Kathy had been too young to remember much, but her mother spoke of those days with an equal measure of yearning and bitterness. He'd been home, yes, and for a while that had been great. But soon his restlessness grew to resentment, and they both began to wish he were home a little less. By the time Kathy was six, he'd quit and they'd moved from Colorado to Washington for a field reporting job. A few years after that, he and Kathy's mother had separated for the first time. Kathy and her mother had gone back to the family home in Colorado and he'd bounced around all over the world, returning every few months and only for a few days before vanishing again.
Her mother had said their relationship worked better when they didn't spend too much time together.
But all of that was in the future. Right now, she was a four-year-old in jean overalls with a pink toy mic in her hand and a notepad in her bib pocket that she pretended to take interviews with because she wanted to be just like him.
She wasn't supposed to be in the booth while he was recording, but as she stumbled over to his chair and aimed her toy microphone up at him, he didn't get angry. He laughed and lifted her up into his lap. He introduced her to the listeners and kept her there until he finished the spot. He'd been angry later. He'd only taken it so well then because he was recording live and couldn't break character by chewing out his kid on the air.
But in the dream, she lingered there in his lap, leaning against his chest and listening to him talk, the smell of smoke clinging to his clothes, woody and romantic in her nose. His chest rumbled under her ear when he laughed, no sound of the cancer already spreading roots there. In the dream, she could stay there forever, long after the news of the day had been delivered, falling asleep in her father's lap.
Her alarm interrupted the rosy memory with a truly forgettable pop song blasting loud enough to force her out of the safe comfort of her blankets to banish it.
Tessa stumbled into her apartment an hour later as Kathy was pouring them both a cup of coffee, her hair wrapped in a towel still from her shower. They'd started having breakfast together when Tessa had moved into the same condominium a few years ago, and it had become a reliable ritual. Kathy had left the cereal out for her friend.
"So, do you think you're going to see him again?" Tessa asked as they enjoyed their morning caffeine.
"I don't think so," Kathy said, shaking her head. "Honestly, I'm surprised he's still interested after how I acted."
"You don't have that long to find someone," Tessa reminded her. "If you're serious about doing this, maybe you should keep your options open."
"Maybe," Kathy conceded with reluctance, contemplating the swirls of creamer in her coffee.
"Well, it won't hurt you to leave him hanging for a few days," Tessa reassured her. "Just take your time. You could still choose not to do this at all."
"I have to," Kathy said, reasserting it to herself as much as to Tessa.
"It's just money," Tessa reminded her.
"It's not about the money," Kathy said. "Not really. It's the family house, too. And…and it's my dad's last wish."
"Who you didn't like or talk to for years." Tessa sipped her coffee, unimpressed.
"He's still my dad," Kathy huffed.
"I just don't want you to do this for the sake of a man you spent most of your life avoiding," Tessa said seriously.
"That's why I have to do it," Kathy said, struggling to explain. "We never got through to each other. Even at the end, we couldn't connect. I feel like, if I don't do this, this thing he thought was so important he was willing to bet everything on it… I don't know. I'll never get closure."
"Closure is kind of overrated in my opinion," Tessa said with a sigh, sitting back and putting down her coffee. "But whatever floats your boat, hun."
"I need to get to work," Kathy said, checking the time on her phone. "I'll text you later."
"Yeah, you still have to give me the details of what happened with Richard!" Tessa pointed out, but Kathy was already dumping the dregs of her coffee in the sink and grabbing her purse.
Kathy continued texting Tessa over the course of the day, the other woman dragging the details of the date out whenever Kathy stopped between messages. Tessa worked freelance from home and could keep up a text conversation all day, and Kathy liked to have something to do when the cameras were off of her, so they tended to stay in communication more or less constantly.
Okay, so Dick isn't an option, Tessa wrote once she'd had the full play-by-play of the date. It was nearly the end of the day, and Kathy was in makeup for the last major spot. She focused on her phone while the stylists touched her up for the hundredth time that day.
Let's review the other men you've gone out with recently. Coffee shop guy. Paul?
No stable job, Kathy texted back. Taking a year to work on his screenplay. Plus, one of his other girlfriends showing up at our first date kind of killed my interest.
Okay, who was before that? Tessa asked.
The three stooges from that awful dating website. One was about ten years older than his profile pictures, one was a militant vegan, and one was a self-proclaimed recovered sex-addict. No thanks.
Yeah, gross, Tess agreed. Before that you tried dating at work, right?
Yeah, Ben the camera guy who wanted to film everything, Owen the meteorologist who realized he was gay, and co-anchor Colin.
What happened with Colin again? He seemed nice.
He was. Working together while dating was just too weird. It ended on good terms at least.
Okay, so work is out, that dating site is definitely out, coffee shops and my yoga class connections are a gamble. What next?
Kathy sighed, leaning back in the makeup chair as a stylist surrounded her in a choking cloud of hair spray. She thought for a moment before typing back.
I don't know, Tess, she sent, leaving it at that.
You could always give up, Tessa reminded her. There's no shame in it.
Kathy started to reply when the stylist slipped and jabbed her with the mascara. Kathy, more startled than hurt, yelped and dropped her phone.
“Shoot, sorry!" the stylist apologized quickly, hurrying to clean up the mess on Kathy's cheek. “Are you okay?”
"It's fine," Kathy said quickly, waving her away as she leaned down to get her phone. "I'm all right. I'm more worried about my phone, honestly."
It had hit the concrete floor, hard. She winced looking at the dented edge and newly cracked screen. She restarted it, hoping it would turn on.
"I'm so sorry," the stylist said, mortified. "I'll pay for a new one."
"That's not necessary," Kathy reassured her. "Really, it's okay. I've been wanting to upgrade anyway. Don't worry about it. Let's just finish up."
Kathy was relieved when her phone successfully started up. It looked like just the screen had broken a
nd nothing internal, though she had to squint to see through the cracks. Impatiently, she returned to her messaging app and jabbed at Tessa's name.
I've got to have a baby, Kathy wrote. But with the way these dates have gone, I might as well be trying with you.
It wasn't until she hit send that, through the web of cracks across the top half of her screen, she realized she couldn't see Tessa's previous messages. She tried to scroll up, frowning. Was her phone freaking out after all? It was like all her conversation history with Tessa had been erased. Like the phone thought she was messaging someone she'd never—
Kathy felt her heart stop as, through the obfuscating tangle of broken glass, she realized the name at the top of the messaging app was not Tessa. It was Tehar.
She shoved her phone in her pocket, gripping the arms of the makeup chair like she was about to go flying out of it. Her heart was in her throat trying to strangle her. She had just sent her boss an out of context demand to have a baby.
"Are you okay?" the stylist asked as Kathy suddenly slumped forward and put her head on the vanity. "Did I hurt you after all?"
"I just need a minute," Kathy said, her voice cracking. "Please go tell production to keep going without me. I'll be there as soon as I can."
The stylist hurried off, clearly worried, and Kathy took a minute to take several deep breaths until she could think straight again. This was fine. Absolutely mortifying, but it was just an accident. Tehar would understand. She'd go clear up the misunderstanding right now and everything would be fine. They'd laugh about it, probably! It's not like he was the type to fire a woman because he found out she was trying to get pregnant. Or at least, she really hoped he wasn't.
She planted her hands on the vanity and forced herself up and onto her feet. She just had to march in there and apologize. He probably hadn't even seen the text yet! She'd just tell him what had happened. He wouldn't even care! Or, he'd fire her immediately, maybe.