The Blind Side of Love (Camren)

Chapter Forty

"I used to come here when I was little," Anthony said conversationally, as they walked into the Guggenheim the following morning.

"Oh yeah?" Camila spoke, but her attention drifted, grabbed away by the museum itself. She couldn't help but feel a sense of awe each time she passed through its doors. It was always the brightness she noticed first, the pouring down of light from above, and at times she imagined that this was what heaven must be like. She stared up at the spiral ramp as it curled ever upward, and smiled.

Anthony was talking, and Camila suddenly remembered he was there. "... and then my mom would catch up with us eventually."

He laughed and Camila took the cue and laughed too, feeling guilty that she'd missed the story. She thought about apologizing and asking him to repeat it, but before she could make up her mind, the moment slipped away.

They headed for the ticket line and Camila tried to think of something to say that might spark some kind of conversation. In front of them in the line was a young couple dressed in matching outfits. Their daughter, or at least the child Camila took to be their daughter, stood to the side of them yelling, "zebra!" at the floor.

"Do you want kids?"

It took Camila several seconds to realize that Anthony was addressing her. "What?" 

"Not with me," he said quickly. "I mean not ... I mean, you know, in general."

It wasn't quite the topic Camila would have envisioned discussing while standing in line at the Guggenheim but she supposed there were worse places. "Uh," she said, in an effort to stall. She didn't have an answer to this question. "Maybe. One day. You know, in the far, far future."

"That far away, huh? That's interesting. I've always wanted kids; lots and lots of kids." 

"Like... twenty?"

"Okay, not that many," he said with a laugh. "Like ... six."

"Six," Camila repeated as the line moved forward. She glanced at the little girl in front of them who was now spinning in circles while chanting nonsense. She tried to picture six of those. "Well, good luck." She smiled at him. "But what if your wife doesn't want six kids?"

"Well, I'd make it clear before we got married."

 "Like on the first date?"

He laughed. "Maybe! Or maybe I'll use it as a pick-up line from now on. You know, get it out there right away."

"Let me know how that works out for you," Camila said and laughed. The line moved forward again. "But what if you meet the perfect woman and she doesn't want to have kids?"

"Then she wouldn't be the perfect woman."

Camila nodded thoughtfully at that. "I admire your conviction," she said, though what she meant was that she envied it. She desperately wanted to be the sort of person that knew exactly what she wanted.

"Well, what about you? Isn't there something you feel really strongly about?"

There were many things that Camila felt strongly about: the environment, animal rights, art. But she didn't wish to dig deeper than that. Not now, nor there, standing in line at the Guggenheim, sandwiched between strangers. "Not really," she said finally. "I mean, I'm sure there must be, but I'm not too picky."

Their turn came eventually and Camila insisted on paying her way. She might not have known what she wanted, but she knew what she didn't want: she didn't want to fall into old patterns. She didn't want anyone holding money over her head.