“Do you likeother people’s kids?” I’m pulling into a parking spot behind Lokahi for the fifth time, trying not to let the tires touch the lines as I ask this question.
Nick snaps his head away from the passenger-side mirror and looks at me. “What?”
“Obviously you think Kira’s the best kid ever.”
“She is,” he says without the tiniest molecule of doubt. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Now that you’re a parent”—I ease his car forward as smoothly as I can—“do you enjoy being around other people’s kids?”
“Sometimes I don’t like being around other adults,” he replies. Then he tilts his head a bit, like he’s never considered this. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to manage a trampoline park or run a daycare. Some kids are assholes. Kira has a few friends I really can’t stand. But compared to how I felt about kids before I became a parent? I probably have more patience than I used to.”
“I’m pretty sure I cleared the lines that time.”
“Nice.” Nick turns to look out the back windshield. “Try to reverse straight into the spot across the aisle.”
For some reason, backing up straight is my biggest struggle of the night.
“Once you have a child,” Nick says, “you see other kids through that lens. If I see an infant, it reminds me of Kira as a tiny baby. All those intense emotions come flooding back, but it’s not because I have this deep affection for someone else’s baby. If there’s a toddler learning to walk, I think about Kira stumbling around like an adorable drunk person.”
“And when you’re on a plane with a screaming kid?” I ask, contorting myself to see out the back window as I overcorrect to the right. My face is almost brushing up against Nick’s shoulder.
“If a kid is crying on a plane, I have empathy for the parents because I know that frustration,” he says. “But I’m also hoping their kid will shut up already.”
“And what if you’re dating a single parent and you don’t getalong with their kid?” I’m practically veering into the next space over, but adjusting the wheel just makes it worse. “Hypothetically?”
I feel Nick studying me under the glow of Lokahi’s red neon sign. “Is this about Shawna?”
SFX:SSSCCREEEEEEEETCH!
Lydia Deetz and Nite Owl II pitch forward in their seats as Lydia slams on the brakes.
“Okay. First of all, I don’t even know Shawna, let alone her child. Secondly, can you put my car in park before we have this conversation?”
I move the gear shift and glance out the window. The car is basically at a forty-five-degree angle, taking up two spaces.
“She messaged me today,” he says. “Maybe it was yesterday. I don’t check Facebook regularly.”
“Okay,” I reply, looking at the steering wheel. “That’s fine.” I ignore the burning sensation in my chest.
“We exchanged some pleasantries. She asked if I wanted to grab coffee sometime. She seems nice.”
“Well, good,” I say, examining the texture of the steering wheel in greater detail. “You’re nice, she’s nice. You’re single, she’s sing—”
“What about you?”
I snap my head up. “Me?”
“Areyousingle?”
We look at each other under this weird red neon glow that paints the interior of the car in fuzzy red slashes. I know exactly what he’s asking and I’m about to give him a vague, noncommittal response. The sort of thing Hal would say, if pressed.Let’s let things evolve naturally. Why does it need a label?
But I don’t want to be someone else’s Hal.
I don’t think I want Nick to “grab coffee sometime” with Shawna.
And I don’t think I want to be on the far-left side of the casual continuum.
“I’m single,” I say.
