A year ago I'd started a job I didn't keep for very long, but one with fairly flexible hours. This was important, as it allowed me to pick up Paul after school, since Tabbatha's new job would keep her working late. We were still a functioning couple at that point, still apartment hunting.
The manager at one place told us he hadn't been able to confirm her employment, and seemed unwilling to work with us, so we moved on. Another place turned us down because, individually, we didn't meet the income guidelines, and they refused to consider our joint incomes. We looked at a few other places, but nothing came to fruition.
What if it had, though? What if we'd moved in together? We might have married, I'd have claimed Paul as my son, maybe we'd have had another kid. Would it have been that easy? Would the lingering doubts Tabbatha claimed when she broke up with me have lingered, or been smoothed over, or gone away entirely? Would I have been a good husband, a good dad?
Hundreds, thousands, millions of alternate futures determined by the choices we make every day. What if Mom's cancer had been diagnosed sooner? What if Sue Ellen and I hadn't split? What if I'd gone to college? What if--
Ah, but there's no point. There is no reality but this one: it's still snowing, and my street hasn't even been plowed. A bleak February day with no time for regrets.
