The successful ones. The ones that live without dirt between their fingernails, the ones without bad backs, and weathered skin. The ones who stay in love."
We were sitting in the sand, the lake water splashed coldly at our feet.
"We need to make a decision." I hated the fact that I was the one that was forcing you to decide. I knew what I wanted and I hoped you’d share my choice. We had just gotten married. We should have been considering where we wanted to go on our honeymoon."
"It's either California or the baby."
"We have to decide tonight?"
"I can’t get attached, not if I know …," I said.
Your eyes said we could be different. And I wanted to agree.
"I've go the talent."
"If you didn't there would be nothing to decide."
"We could be those people."
"The one's who forget?"
"The successful ones. The ones that live without dirt between their fingernails, the ones without bad backs, and weathered skin. The ones who stay in love."
"And in five years?"
"We'll have it all. The house, the cars, the money, and we'll never have to look at a cornfield again."
"And the kids?"
You kept your promise. We didn't see another cornfield, nor did we ever go to sleep with dirt on our brows. But we weren't the ones, not the people who could plant and cultivate the kernel of love. We, together, could have a had different kind of talent, a knack for raising children. The baby could have been our big break. Our life could have been the movie you always wanted to star in.