Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” he said with soft eyes. “She’s pretty great. I definitely look up to her.”
I’d never heard a man say he looked up to his mother. It was refreshing. “I notice you don’t have much to say about your father, really.” Nothing nice to say, at least. He spoke about his childhood like he’d been raised by a single mom.
He was quiet for a while, crafting his answer in his head before he shared it. “Even when my father was present, he was absent. He always preferred the company of his friends to his family. He used to fish with his friends all the time, and the only reason he taught me was because I asked him to. I’m not saying he was a bad guy or anything, but I just don’t think he ever wanted to be a father.”
I didn’t realize it until now, but Constantine and I had something in common. The only difference was his father stayed, while mine ran. I wasn’t sure which was worse. To have a father stick around out of obligation . . . or care so little that he just left.
“I don’t judge him for it. Parenthood isn’t for everyone.”
“Is it for you?” I asked without really thinking about it. I always assumed this had an expiration date, so I didn’t think about the future much. But now, I thought about it more.
“Honestly, I could go either way. I could easily never have kids and be perfectly fine with that. But I could also have them, and it’d be great. People, particularly women, worry about it way too much. Because they have a timetable, they think about it more, which I get, but I think it causes stress and makes them jump to a decision they might not have made if they didn’t have that stress. My philosophy is, whatever happens, it’ll be fine.”
I could take several pages out of his book. “Yeah . . .”
“What about you?”
“I don’t know. Not having my mom anymore kinda kills any desire to have a family. It’s not really about her not being able to help me . . . it’s just . . . I don’t really have a reason to do it. I’ve been alone for so long that I’m fine being alone.”
He continued to stare at me like he hoped I might say more.
“I can see why someone like you would want a family, because it’s like adding another person to your team. But starting the team from scratch . . . that doesn’t seem like much fun.”
“But it wouldn’t be from scratch,” he said. “Because you’re doing it with someone else.”
“I guess,” I said. “But I guess I also have the perspective of being raised by a single mom. And it looks pretty fucking hard.”
He was quiet for a while. “I think you’re overthinking it. And I can totally see you being a mom—a good one.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The way you took care of your mom. Being a caretaker is a burden, but you never resented her for it. Loved her to the end, still love her now. And then there’s this big-ass dog here . . .” He stopped when she gave a particularly loud snore. “Most of my guests want her out, but you want her here.”
“Well, it’s her house.”
“The fact that you care about her perspective shows your emotional intelligence and empathy for others. Two important traits when it comes to parenthood. It’s totally fine if you don’t want to have kids—a lot of people don’t—but don’t eliminate yourself from the possibility because you think you wouldn’t be good at it. That’s just not true.”
“I didn’t say I thought I was unfit . . .”
“No, you didn’t,” he said. “But I can tell that’s how you feel.”
How did he do that? How did he know things?
“Your dad took off because it wasn’t for him, so maybe it’s not for you. I get it. I’ve had the same thoughts about myself.” He propped himself on his folded arm, Medusa still between us and snoring quietly. “But if I ever became a father, I know I’d do the best I could.”
“I want to show you something.” He led the way out of the bedroom and into his office, the place that felt more like a library than a study for a single person. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked up at the wall.
It took me a second to realize what had changed.
There was a large opening in the wall above the back of his chair. Some other painting had been there before, but it was gone. The space must have been ten feet by five feet, a spot that still looked tiny compared to the sheer size of the room.
“You got something new?” I asked.
“No, but I have a vision.” He turned to me and clapped his hands together before he massaged his palms. “Boudoir photos of you. One front and center right here. The only other people who come into this room are the maids, so it would just be for me.”