Chapter 12 #3
“I’m not excusing him. Because many people—millions of people—have dealt with the same shit he did and not allowed it to turn them into awful people.
But I do get it. You know, he’s the reason my name’s Alexander.
My mom wanted to name me Alejandro, but he insisted.
He won, but nine times out of ten, my mom calls me Alejandro anyway. ”
Even though the topic is serious, I smile.
“My entire extended family ignores the fact that my name is Josephina. They pronounce it in Spanish, like Josefina. Joey who?”
We both laugh, and once the laugher fades, I ask the question that’s been bothering me throughout dinner.
“Is your father the reason you didn’t have Mexican candy growing up?”
It says something about how much the tension has eased that Alex laughs instead of closing up again.
“Yeah. He said Mexican candy had lead in it and would poison us.”
Oh. Well, shit.
“Okay, so, I’m not, like, defending your dad or anything, but technically, he was right. I do remember hearing as a kid that a lot of the candy had lead in it.”
“And your parents let you keep eating it?” he asks, his eyes wide.
“I mean, when you put it like that, it sounds pretty bad. But I was fine. No lead poisoning to speak of.” I laugh, and he laughs with me, and only once I’ve calmed down do I say, “Look at us. Criticizing my parents for letting me eat candy and yours for not letting you. There’s no winning.
Why do I feel like this is the perfect microcosmic example of parenthood as a whole? ”
Alex laughs, then quickly sobers.
“I’m terrified of having kids. I don’t think I’ll ever have them,” Alex says, his voice quiet.
“Really?”
“You sound surprised.”
I am surprised, though now that I think about it, I’m not sure I should be. After all, at thirty-two, Alex had been married for nearly a decade and remained childless.
“I guess it isn’t surprising, given what we’ve talked about tonight. But… for what it’s worth, I think you’d make a great father.”
I say it casually, an offhand comment, but from Alex’s piercing gaze, I can tell it means a lot to him.
“Do you really mean that or are you just saying it?” he asks softly, and I can feel that this is an important question—which is wild, because we’re eighteen-year-old college freshmen on a second date, and parenthood feels like a nebulous idea, far off in the distant future.
I consider his question carefully all the same.
I do mean it, I realize. I do think Alex would be a great father, although he clearly wasn’t a great husband. And the odd thing is, I think that holds true for the Alex sitting in front of me and the man I left behind fourteen years in the future.
“I really mean it.”
It takes him a long moment to form a response.
“I’d like to think I wouldn’t be the same as my dad. I couldn’t possibly. But there’s always that fear—that I’m not the man I believe I am. Having kids feels like a lifelong test I don’t know if I can pass.”
“I always wanted to be a mom,” I confess. “But I don’t want to lose myself to motherhood the way so many mothers do. I want to feel confident in my ability to retain a semblance of the person I’ve become before I have children. Problem is, I have no clue who that person is.”
I can’t identify the emotion in Alex’s eyes, but he looks gravely serious, too serious for comfort, so I defuse it with a joke: “I think I’ll just become a happy cat mom instead.”
Alex laughs. “Nothing wrong with that. I heard a rumor that pets are the new children, anyway.”
Alex is quiet as we walk to his car after dinner. He stops a few feet away and turns to me.
“I’m sorry the conversation became a downer. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Not at all—it was nice to get insight into your life, the things that made you… you.”
He lets out a humorless laugh. “That’s one way to put it. Still want another date?”
“You’re not getting out of it that easily. We have an entire childhood of Mexican candy to introduce you to.”
His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Hey.” I place my hand on his chest and look up at him.
He looks back, eyes pooling with emotion, and for a moment we stand frozen like that.
We don’t say anything, but an entire silent conversation takes place, at least from my perspective.
And maybe I could leave it at that, but something compels me to continue. “I’m having a really great night.”
I kiss him, and this feels so different than the kisses a few nights ago and even the kiss earlier tonight. Maybe it’s because my feelings about him have changed.
I’m not sure exactly how I feel. I know I’m attracted to Alex, but I’m scared. So scared, because I know exactly who Alex becomes. What he’s capable of. And I know it isn’t pretty.
He’s not the kind of guy that comes with a happily ever after. He’s the kind of guy that makes you hope. The kind of hope that scars once it’s ripped away. The kind of scar that hurts to even think about, but the kind of hurt that feels like living.
I’m in deep enough to think that the pain might be worth it for just a little more time with him.
All I want to think about is here and now. Tonight.
Tonight, I’m eighteen years old, and Alex is the sweet boy who took me on a considerate date and then opened up in a way I couldn’t imagine the Alex I left behind opening up.
Tonight, Alex is a boy I like.
So I kiss him, and I keep kissing him until he pulls away.