“Doesn’t matter. If I made the promise, I’m keeping it. Cynthia’s out of luck.”
Francesca sighs. “You and your cheaty answers.”
I shake my head. “Nah, not this one.” Since I understand she needs a little more proof of this stance, I decide to share a little of my own family history. “Okay, so… we’ve touched on this before, but I told you my father’s a cheater, right? Cheats all the fucking time. New girlfriend all the time, meanwhile Ma’s been faithful to this asshole all her damn life. That’s not right. It’s not fair. And not so much anymore because she’s hardened to it, which is a damn shame in and of itself, but I remember the first time it happened, when I was a kid. I’ll never forget. One night I was in bed and I couldn’t sleep, thought I heard something in the other room. Thought it might be a monster or something, you know? I was young. So I went to check it out, to save my mom. I told you, I wanted to be a superhero. Anyway, when I went to her bedroom what I saw scared the shit out of me more than if it would’ve been some one-eyed monster eating her intestines.”
“Gross,” Francesca remarks, but her gaze is locked on mine.
“My mom, my strong, wonderful, loving mom… she was in the floor, collapsed. Folded in on herself, just wailing. Like she was so heavy with grief that she couldn’t even keep herself upright. And she sobbed until she couldn’t even breathe, like she was drowning and couldn’t get to a life raft. I thought something was wrong with her, like she was physically hurt, but it wasn’t that. It was my dad. She found out he had some little girlfriend on the side, and it caused her that much pain. I’ve seen people hurt before, but not like that. Not that deep. And I couldn’t wrap my head around it, not as a kid, not at any point since, not now. I don’t know how you could possibly do that to another person. A person who loves you, a person you’re supposed to love… I’ve seen and done a lot of bad shit in my time, but that’s something I’d never do. Desert island or no desert island, if I’m in a relationship, there’s no force in the world that could make me betray the person I’m in it with.”
If I had any faith in Francesca’s sobriety, it would completely evaporate as she sighs, heart in her eyes, and tells me, “You’re so dreamy.”
It takes the intensity out of the moment and I laugh at her. She beams at me and it’s infectious; I have to grin right back. “You think I’m dreamy now, wait ‘til I take you to the malt shop and give you my pin.”
“I wish you could,” she says, a little less jokingly than I’d like.
“What about you? Same desert island but you’re the one who cheated. Do you tell me, or keep it a secret?”
She grins. “You’re my husband in this scenario? That’s not fair. I wasn’t your wife in my scenario. Well, that changes my answer. I couldn’t tell you, because you have a hit list and I’d be too afraid to put him on it.”
“Damn straight I’d kill that motherfucker,” I tell her, not even joking. “Hypothetical bastard.” I let a couple seconds pass, then I go on, “You’d tell, then?”
Nodding, she explains, “I think the secrets and lies would put more distance between us than the sex. I think that’s what would kill our relationship. But this is strictly hypothetical. I wouldn’t cheat either. Especially now, because cheating on you, my hypothetical husband, would make me a hypothetical monster.”
I nod, satisfied. “It’s settled then. We’re never gonna cheat on each other.”
“Okay, one last hypothetical. A less fun one.”
My eyebrows shoot up my forehead. “Less fun than that? Aw, shit.”
“You said you want to get married and have babies, right?”
I’m already cautious. “I said a loose approximation of that, yes.”
“So, what if you had to choose? You meet the perfect person for you, they make you happy, they get you, they make you laugh—it’s pure magic. But if you have that person, you can never have the other stuff. It can only ever be the two of you, you can never have a normal relationship, never take her home to meet your mom, no holidays together, no kids—no normal life. All you can ever have is what’s between you two when you’re alone.”
“This doesn’t sound so hypothetical…”
She holds up a finger to halt me. “Hypothetically there’s another person. A person you really like, a person you really enjoy, someone you could see spending your life with—but you just don’t have that same spark you have with the first person. You’re still happy, it just isn’t magic. But you can have everything with this second person. You can have a normal, stable, pleasant relationship. You can get married and have babies to bring to your family Christmases, to play with Maddie’s kids someday. Your mom and Maddie both love her; they’d be absolutely thrilled if you picked this person—”