“I… I’m… floored by this. I had no idea.”
“Well, the point is, I love lots of people. I grew up on a huge ranch. We have, like, our own town going on up there. It’s crazy. Twelve kids total. Abrem, Benjamin, Candace, Delilah, Elias—me.” I laugh, counting us up on my fingers, so I don’t forget anyone. “Then Felix, Gaius, Hannah, Isaac, Jason, Keren, and Luc is the baby. And every one of them is married but me. My baby sister, Keren, she already has three kids and she’s twenty-four. So—you’re wrong.”
“Your parents have an ABC theme for naming?” Chella is astounded. This is why I never tell people about myself. It’s weird. “And are those all Old Testament names? Are you like… Amish?”
I laugh again. “Jesus Christ, no. My parents were just… happily married, you know? And yeah, they go to church, but town is so far away. It’s not a big deal to miss. It’s just…” I sigh. There is no easy way to explain my family. “It’s just weird.”
“I have no words right now. Like seriously, you just floored me. Knocked me down. What the hell happened to you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You own a sex club! Do your parents know that?”
“Do you think they know?” I laugh.
“Don’t they come see you? Don’t they like… look you up on the internet?”
“Turning Point isn’t on the internet. And no, they’re happy with my yearly end-of-summer visits. When you have twelve kids you don’t pay too close attention, you know?”
“But Smith is on the internet. You’re his partner.”
I shrug.
“And you hate kids.”
“I do hate kids. When I go home, it’s torture, man. I’m telling you. I have so many nieces and nephews, I can’t count them. They hang all over me. Uncle Elias, play with me. Uncle Elias, take me somewhere. Every year there’s like two new ones. I can’t keep up with it. It’s so complicated. I like simple, Chella. This life I have is simple. I am quite capable of love. I hand it out all over the place when I’m home. But when I come back here, to my own space, I like… peace. I want to be left alone.”
She takes a few moments to think about all this new information. “Is this why you like to share? It’s something you’re used to—growing up with all those siblings.”
I shrug. “I guess. I never thought about it much.”
“You’re practically a psychiatrist, Bric. You cannot tell me you’ve never psychoanalyzed yourself.”
“I have, but not about the sharing. The game is fun, that’s all. And I can walk away if I want. I can’t really walk away from my family, can I? They’re always there. There’s always drama. Kids are sick, parents are arguing, dishes are everywhere. It’s chaos, is what it is.”
“So you came down here to Denver to get away from them?”
“Maybe. I dunno. I didn’t think of it that way. I just didn’t want to get stuck out there on that ranch. It’s like sixty degrees below zero with wind chill in the winter, Chella. Have you ever birthed a cow at four AM in the dead of winter in Montana? It’s not fun. Not even close. Denver is nice. The climate is pretty mild. I have mountains here. I have everything I had there, except the stress.”
“I need to go up there and meet them.”
“Never.” I laugh. “Ever. That’s so not happening. Bric’s life and Elias’ life shall never meet. You don’t cross proton-pack streams, Chella. First rule of Ghostbusters. Bad things will happen.”
She ponders this, her eyes on mine, darting back and forth from one to the other. “So you’re never getting married?”
“Why do I need to get married? I have Quin, Rochelle, and Adley. That’s all I need.”
Her mouth is hanging open again.
“What?” I growl.
“But… this is temporary, right? I mean… Rochelle and Quin are… in love, aren’t they?”
“Sure,” I say. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Elias Bricman,” she scoffs. “You’re not that delusional, are you?” She just stares at me.
“What? Rochelle is happy. Quin likes me involved. And plus, Adley is mine.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I feel it.” I shrug. “Anyway, didn’t you ever take physics?”
“What?” She laughs.
“It’s called quantum superposition and it goes like this—and this is one hundred percent true. Look it up. If you have a cat in a box and you don’t look inside to see if the cat is alive or dead, like there’s no possible way of knowing one way or the other unless you physically look, then it’s both alive and dead at the same time.”
“No…”
“Yes, for real. It’s been proven and shit. Reality depends on observation. On knowing things. So if we never know who Adley’s father is, then we’re both her father. It’s science. So she really is my daughter.”
“Until she’s not, Bric. If you guys do get the test, then you’ll know for sure.”
“But we’re not getting the test. So she is. We’ve locked her paternity in a box with the cat and none of us want to change that. I think we’re happy.”
Chella frowns. Takes a moment to think. “You know how you have that rule about the game? When the girl wants to leave you’re not allowed to follow?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, one of you will want to leave, Bric. Eventually. The world is not made for threesomes. It’s made for couples. You’re playing a game. It’s a very dangerous game because it was designed to end. One day it will end. You know that, right?”
I shrug her off and stand up to stretch and glance around, feeling the need to get back to work. “I’ll take my chances,” I say. And then I turn to walk away, but I stop, remembering why we’re here in the first place. “Invite more people to the soft opening. We need a better feel for a packed house.” I walk off, then call out over my shoulder. “Tell Smith I said hi.”
She’s wrong, I think. She’s wrong about the new game. It’s more than a game. We’re more than players. We’re professional players. We know how to handle it. We’ve been together for years. Quin is happy, I can tell. And Rochelle loves me. Maybe not the same way she loves Quin, but it’s up there. I’m in the running.
It won’t end.
I can’t end.
I love that baby.
She’s mine as long as we don’t open that box.
Chapter Twenty-Two - Rochelle
“You’re sure you’re OK?” I ask Quin.
“Hey,” he says. “We’re fine. I got this.” He’s holding Adley in his arms and she’s smacking his face with both hands. Each time she does it, he blinks and laughs. She squeals and wiggles.
They are adorable together. Does she look like him? I can’t tell. How do people tell? How do people say, Oh, she has your chin, or, Yes, those are your ears? I don’t get it. When I look at her and me in the same photo, I do see it. She does look like me. But Quin and Bric… I just don’t know. I can’t tell. It makes me sad.