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: : : —I DON'T KNOW, FREYA SAYS, watching Fletcher suck at the water fountain. —He's just seemed so uptight lately.
Fletcher stands up, wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, and says —Lately? They begin their second trip around the park's edge. The evening air going blue.
—No, Freya says. —Not really. Really he's been this way from the beginning. I mean, do you agree?
—Jakob—Jakob can be uptight, Fletcher concedes.
—And, I don't know, maybe I'm deluded, but I don't think of myself as a particularly uptight person—
—Uh, Fletcher says, —no. Uptight's not exactly the word I'd use.
—So this just makes me go what the hell was I thinking? Like how did I end up involved with this person? I mean there are days when I wake up and it just seems like a huge error in judgment.
—Well, Fletcher says, —you had a whole thing going on back then—I think you were looking for someone who was a little more—
—Anal? Freya says.
—I was going to say stable.
—Whatever, says Freya.
They walk for a bit in silence.
—So do you think— Fletcher begins, which triggers another round.
—But see, at this point I'm like committed to it, Freya says. —Like I can't see a good way out. I mean, when you're just dating a guy, whatever, you can stop returning his phone calls, or—I mean there's like a million ways to do it. But when you're actually living with the person that's a different story. It's not like I can just tell him to fuck off.
—You could hit him with a baseball bat.
—Not funny, says Freya.
—Sorry.
They round the corner.
—But, OK, seriously, Fletcher says. —I mean—how do I want to ask this—like how hard are you really looking for a way out? It wasn't that long ago that you two were talking about like being ready to have a baby.
Freya sighs. —I knew you were going to bring that up, she says.
Fletcher makes a what do you want from me face.
—Yeah, she says, —I mean, I don't know, some days I wake up and he's there and it's great. I mean, it's nice to have somebody. And you're right, Jakob is stable, and that's probably good for me; I probably did myself the fucking favor of a lifetime when I got involved with him.
—Could be, Fletcher says, although he doesn't really think so.
—And, yeah, it's that stability that makes me look at him and go you'd be a good dad. I mean, certainly none of the other guys that I dated ever really struck me as, uh, dad material.
—Agreed, Fletcher says.
—But then there are other times where he just seems so stifling. And I can't help but wonder, like, man, what kind of dad would you turn out to be? Like I wonder if he'd be able to just let a kid be a kid, you know?
Fletcher weighs this.
—And then, Freya says, coming to a stop, —then I sort of wake up with this like jolt and I'm like what the hell are you even thinking? I start telling myself all this shit—you're not ready to have a kid; you're not fucking mature; you're like still so—fucked up— She wipes at her eye. —So, yeah, bottom line is I don't know. I don't know what I want, I don't know what the fuck's going on, I don't know. I'm a fucking mess.
—You're not, he says. He finds himself embracing her. —You're just trying to figure stuff out, is all, he murmurs into her hair. —That's OK.
They stand there for a minute, holding one another. A pair of joggers passes them. He wonders if he looks weird, standing here hugging this woman, then he decides that he doesn't really care.
—I'm alright, says Freya finally.
—You sure? Fletcher says.
Freya nods rapidly. He lets her go. They walk.
—So it sounds like you have some gossip, too, Freya eventually says.
—How do you mean? Fletcher asks.
—Clark called me this week, Freya says. —For the first time in like forever. I heard about the conversation you guys had.
—Oh yeah? Fletcher says. —How was that?
—Interesting, Freya says. —Clark seemed very—freaked out.
Fletcher gives a little smile. —I didn't want to freak her out, he says. —I mean I hope I didn't come off as like this stalker or whatever.
—No—Freya says. —She's not freaked out in that stalker way—
—Well freaked out how then?
: : :
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Index | << | 13 | >>
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