Yes, I love Candy. No big shock for me on that realization. She’s been under my skin since she walked into my office and called me an asshole to my face. The woman is the right kind of beautiful, smart, and tough. Those ingredients are in plenty of women, but never in the right amounts to make me consider apologizing for doing nothing wrong.
Candy is the one, but I don’t know if I can be the one for her. I like my life. I want her, but the rest is more complicated.
So I imagine myself at her doorway, and she forgives me and takes the flowers and then what? She has me come inside, and I spend the night and wake up to the sounds of children making too much noise. Is that what I really want? Once I open that door, I can’t close it easily.
I’m not a coward, but I am a pragmatic man. I can’t allow my heart to run the show. I have to think long term. Not for Candy or me, but for the twins, I need to be certain. Kids don’t bounce back from rejection.
I again see myself outside Candy’s door. This time, I imagine her angrily shutting the door on me or worse taking the flowers and coolly saying she’ll see me at work the next day. I don’t know if I could accept her indifference.
So I stand in front of her door with a bouquet of pink roses in one hand and a bouquet of red roses in the other since I couldn’t decide which one she’d like better. I knock on the door of the rental house and wait to apologize even though I don’t think I’m wrong.
Candy answers, wearing a flannel nightgown. Her expression tells me nothing. I’m flying blind, but I utter the horrible three words I say to nearly no one.
“I am sorry.”
TWENTY NINE - CANDY
The kids aren’t thrilled to return to school tomorrow. My mind is searching for a new job. Cricket offers to find a job and work rather than going to school. She even suggests I could attend school for her.
“No one will notice. The staff is a bunch of morons,” she says, sounding like Hayes.
Sunday night comes, and they finally get a hold of their grandparents after nearly a week of missing them.
“Where have you been?” Chipper asks the laptop where their grandparents’ faces beam back at them.
His grandmother wipes her cheeks since she’s always concerned she’s wearing too much rogue. “We took a quick trip to Canada.”
“To see Communists?” Chipper asks.
Grandma Edelle looks around confused. “Communists?”
Cricket nods. “Mom’s boyfriend said Canada is full of Communists.”
“How is school?” Grandpa Charles asks.
“We got suspended last week,” Chipper announces, and I roll my eyes at how proud he sounds.
“Why?” Grandma Edelle cries.
Cricket leans into the camera on the laptop and says conspiratorially. “It’s mostly politics.”
“They got into a fight,” I explain, leaning into view. “Someone was picking on Chipper and Cricket stuck up for him. The principal made a big deal even though no one got hurt.”
“Oh, well, public schools can be rough,” Grandma Edelle says, looking awkward.
Grandpa Charles adds, “Perhaps your mother can look into a private school option.”
“Mom’s thinking about homeschooling us,” Cricket says immediately, and I pray she doesn’t mention how I quit my job. “I think having more attention would help me get better at math.”
Her grandparents buy her bullshit and nod in unison. They are totally duped by their darlings. I wouldn’t be surprised if they think the kids are incapable of lying. If only they knew…
After the kids finishing quizzing Grandma and Grandpa about their Canada trip, they show off our new adopted cat. I think the grandparents finally realize we aren’t moving back when they see the terrified striped cat pressed against the screen. I know they miss the twins, but this is our home now even if I have no way to pay for any of it.
The moment the kids tell their grandparents goodbye and hang up, I sigh with relief at how they didn’t rat me out.
“Do you think you can work at McDonald’s?” Cricket asks, turning on the TV. “We could get discounts on hamburgers.”
“You don’t want me working at a fast food place. I wouldn’t make enough money to keep up with your Xbox subscription.”
“We’ll ask Grandpa to get it for us. They can pay for everything, and you can stay home and be our teacher.”
“Ah, to be young,” I tease, patting their heads. “You have a half hour of TV before bed.”
While the kids entertain themselves, I sit at the kitchen island and think about Hayes. I think about calling him nearly every fucking second I’m awake. I dream of calling him too. Despite the nearly painful need to hear his voice, I hold my ground.