January

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We made love every night last week. More importantly, we talked. We talked about our favorite everything. We talked in depth about all the things we want. She doesn't want too much. She's content and I should feel relieved, but I don't. Somehow I want to give her more. I want to give her things she never knew she always wanted or somehow is unable to think of it at the time. For herself, she just wants time to write and be expressive. For myself, I want the same thing in a way. I want to have my career and I want her love. She wants Nina to have people she can look up to and whom will set examples of how to be a strong, independent adult. I am up to the task.

We both want to travel together. At least twice a year, in the winter and summer, take the kids on holiday. In the fall and spring, we will runaway together for a long weekend alone. She is adaptable. She wants to spend time in New York, but her roots are here in California with her family. She's made it clear that she will not be able to move permanently to the east coast until Nina goes to college. That's the same for me because of Henry. I'm looking at ten more years of happily serving time in California. California is not so bad, if only because of her. With her, everything is beautiful. She radiates light onto the darkest, graffiti covered overpass.

She wants a simple home life. It sounds divine to me. We'll work all day and come home to each other. Number one thing is to vent about work and then let it go. She told me that even though she hates being told what to do, she needs me to pull her away from the keyboard and insist that she do something productive in her actual life. I asked her to help me do the same. We agree that a chore schedule would be helpful.

I'm standing in a Starbucks thinking about our conversations this week and it dawned on me that we've been talking about moving in together without saying it explicitly. I really don't want to rush our relationship too fast, but in my depths, I know I want her to wake up next to me everyday. I want us to make dinner together and help our kids grow and learn at the same homework table. I want to distract her while she reads in bed and I want to be distracted by her when she emerges from our ensuite shower while I'm in the middle of writing my latest outlines for my latest play.

I want a life with her. I want... to marry her. This realization hit me like a brick. I grab my coffee and hers and make a quick exit. I set in motion as I walk to my car a plan to ask her mother for her blessing. I already know how her father feels about getting her married off. Tina, however, is the one I need to convince. They are so tightly bound to each other they work and live together for Christ's sake.

Hey, I know you've only known me for a little over a month, but I want to propose to your daughter.

God, Charlie. You're not twenty five anymore. Slow down. There's no need to rush. You live across the street from her. She's not going anywhere... Of course! She's not going anywhere! You're not ripping her away from her life. It'll be okay. Just plan it out. Take your time.

She's been back at work for a week and it's been a little stressful since she's been covering the front desk a lot. She doesn't usually have time to eat breakfast, so I stop into her favorite taqueria and buy her a breakfast burrito. I won't be able to talk to Tina privately while Jackie is there, so I'll do it on a day that she has infusion therapy.

I park my car in the crowded parking lot. It's overcast and drizzling rain outside. I've never been to this doctor's office before, but the waiting room is full and loud. I go up to the counter and a diminutive woman that looks shorter than five feet asks me, "Good morning, dad. Are you checking in?"

I chuckle and say, "Ah, no. I'm looking for Jackie."

"Jackie, did you order door dash?", the woman calls over her shoulder to a part of the office I can't see.

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