Chapter 4
Colby
Seattle, Present Day
I rub the top of my boxer Ralph’s soft head. He’s lying to my right in my warm bed, snoring away in the pre-dawn light without a care in the world. Oh, to be my snoozing dog right now. “I don’t have a ‘fear of commitment,’ Candice,” I say groggily to my girlfriend of three months. She’s lying to my left in the bed, naked, her long limbs intertwined with mine.
I rub my sleepy eyes and look at my alarm clock. 4:48. Jesus Christ. Candice wants to talk about this now? My alarm went off three minutes ago, my brain feels like it’s covered in a sheath of cotton, and I’ve got morning wood. Oh, and did I mention, we’ve only been dating for three months? Hardly enough time to even think about having this conversation. “I didn’t say I’d never get married under any circumstances,” I say. “All I said was I’m not a guy who’s gonna get married simply because my parents did or society says it’s what I’m supposed to do. If you met my parents, you’d understand. They’ve set the bar impossibly high.” Ralph shifts his position next to me and I pat him gently, my stomach churning.
“And what about kids?” Candice says. “Is that something you can envision for yourself at some point or is that a ‘maybe, maybe not’ for you, the same as marriage?”
“Yeah, I want kids. Actually, my whole life, I’ve pictured myself having five of them, the same as in my family.”
“Five kids? And yet, you’re not completely sure you ever want to get married, huh? Interesting.”
I close my eyes and exhale. “Never mind about the five-kids thing. I was just saying that’s always been my fantasy—that I’d have a crazy, loud, chaotic family, just like the one I grew up in. But, obviously, given that I’m a thirty-year-old man who’s not thinking about getting married any time soon, I’m well aware five kids isn’t going to happen for me.” I pause waiting for Candice’s reply, but she remains mute. So, I continue, “I’m just being honest here, Candice. It’s not like I’m some eighty-year-old commitment-phobe who’s never been in a serious relationship. I only turned thirty last week.”
“Yeah, well, if you want five kids, you don’t have as much time as you think, Colby.”
I exhale with exasperation. “Forget the five-kids thing. Fuck. I was saying I used to imagine that for myself because I loved my own childhood so much. That’s all I meant.”
I glance at the alarm clock again. 5:04. Shit. I didn’t set my alarm to go off almost three hours before the start of my twenty-four-hour shift because I wanted to have plenty of time to talk to Candice about marriage and kids. To the contrary, I set my alarm for this early thinking Candice and I would wake up and have some awesome morning sex, the same way we always do whenever she sleeps over, and that, following that bit of awesomeness, Candice would kindly head off to work and leave me to my usual pre-work routine: taking a six-mile jog with Ralph, lifting some weights in my spare bedroom, showering, eating, and then dropping Ralph off at my parents’ house on my way into the fire station.
“I think it’s perfectly reasonable after six months of dating for me to ask about the trajectory of our relationship, Colby,” Candice says, her tone turning snippy. “Maybe your biological clock isn’t ticking at thirty, but mine sure is at twenty-nine.”
Um... wow. Where to begin? First off, Candice and I haven’t been dating for six months. We met and hooked up at a wedding five months ago, almost to the day, and then didn’t start actually dating until a couple months after that because, as we talked about explicitly that first night, we were both fresh off break-ups and wanted to take things slow. And, furthermore, why does me turning thirty a week ago mean I’ve suddenly got to start thinking seriously about marriage at all, but especially with someone I’ve dated for mere months?
“I just don’t understand why you haven’t introduced me to your family yet,” Candice says. “If my whole family lived in Seattle, then I would have introduced you to them by now.”
“I’ve introduced you to two of my brothers,” I say lamely, even though I’m well aware I’m painting the walls while the house is on fire at this point.
Candice sits up in the bed, obviously annoyed. “Having drinks with Ryan in a bar while Dax performed onstage with his band doesn’t count. We couldn’t even talk. What I want is for you to take me home and introduce me as your girlfriend to your family.”
I’m speechless. Wow. We’re really not on the same page.
“You had the perfect opportunity last week to introduce me to everyone at your birthday dinner and you didn’t even invite me. I know you said it was just going to be family, and I respected that, but then I overheard you talking to Ryan a couple days ago about how sad your sister looked because her new boyfriend cancelled on coming to dinner at the last minute.”
I close my eyes. Shit. I thought Candice was in the shower when Ryan and I talked about that. “Candice,” I say, exhaling. “If Kat wanted to bring some guy home on my birthday, it means she thinks he’s The One. That’s the only reason any of us brings someone home for dinner—because we’re intending to send out a smoke signal that we’ve met that special someone. Hence, the reason I’ve never brought anyone home for a family dinner—because I’ve never, ever been that sure about a relationship.”
Candice looks like she feels sick. “So you’re not that sure... about me?”
Crap. How could she possibly think I’m that sure about her? We’ve been dating for three months! I take a deep breath and force myself to answer honestly. “I’m not. No.”
Tears prick Candice’s eyes. “Why not? Have I done something? Not done something?”
I consider the question, trying to decide how honest to be. Should I mention that time, a few weeks ago, Candice blasted that poor, frazzled waitress for screwing up the dressing on her salad? Or the time right after that when Candice whispered that nasty comment to her bestie about some poor woman walking by, simply because the woman had the audacity to wear tight leggings without having the body of a supermodel? No. If I cite those examples to Candice, she won’t understand my larger point—that I could never settle down with a woman who doesn’t make kindness her default mode. “No,” I say. “You’ve done nothing, Candice. It’s not you. You’re great. One day, you’re going to make a fantastic wife for someone. Unfortunately, that someone just won’t be me.”