Walking back from Quik Trip, Paul begins musing on the nature of our relationship. "It's weird. I never used to have grown-up friends. My friends were other kids. Now I spend more time with grown-ups. It's weird that we're still friends."
Yeah. Especially if you remember how we started out.
"What do you mean? Didn't we like each other when we met?"
No, I didn't mean it like that--
"I remember my mom didn't even introduce us at first--"
Yeah, but she got around to it eventually. And I'd kind of figured out who you were. But what I meant was, we didn't start out as friends so much as...I mean, I was dating your mom. Remember the second time we met? We barely knew each other at that point, but you still talked me into buying you a root beer and kept asking me when I was going to marry your mom.
"I don't remember doing that. Did I say that in front of her?"
Yeah, she was right there.
"What did she say?"
She just laughed. And I told you you'd have to ask her about the whole marriage thing.
"And what did she say to that?"
She still just laughed.
"It might have been nice if it had worked out with you guys."
Yeah, well.
"Was I the first kid...I mean, were there other kids...I mean--"
Had I dated other women with kids?
"Yeah."
Sure, but either the kids were older or I never even got to meet them because the relationship never lasted that long. But with your mom, it was different, because we--
"--Talked about getting married?"
Talked, yes.
"And did you know about me? When you first started dating her?"
Oh yeah. Of course. She talked about you quite a bit. She loves you and she's very proud of you.
"She yells at me a lot."
That's because you never help her clean up.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. But...so you didn't care that she had a kid?"
Evidently not, since I kept seeing her. But it's weird. I'd never...gotten as far into a relationship with someone with kids as I did with her. We were...it's weird.
"You already said that."
Yeah, I know. What I mean is, we were calling each other 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend' before I'd even met you. If I'd met you and hated you...Who knows?
"It's a good thing you didn't hate me. You didn't, right?"
Are you kidding? I couldn't stand you. As a matter of fact, I don't like you now.
"Yeah, right. You just don't like me because I hate the Yankees."
That's as good a reason as any. At least you're not a Red Sox fan. Then I'd have to kill you.
"No, you couldn't."
Why not?
"Because I'm going to kill you first!"
(Suddenly we grab sticks off the ground and begin zapping each other with magic spells, chasing each other down the sidewalk, screaming with manic enthusiasm, not caring if we wake the neighbors. After all, they should be awake, and enjoying this lovely Sunday morning right along with us.)
