Remy #2
Simone takes me in, her eyes softening every second she does.
“I imagine you’re very easy to love, Remy,” she says quietly.
“And easy to miss once you’re gone. Perhaps the truth won’t show itself until your friends actually feel like you’re gone.
I think they know, quite rightly, that you’ll always be there for them.
So, yes, it’s hard to miss what you didn’t love, but it’s even harder to miss what still remains.
Your presence, your love, they know they can count on that, even if they don’t see you all the time.
Or that’s what I’m assuming, as I also imagine it’s difficult to quantify friendship, especially in a group of four.
Imbalance has to occur somewhere, right?
But I do admire your capacity for love.” She pauses to look down at her empty bowl.
“I’m tempted to tell you what an amazing partner you might make—or mother, even? ”
“Ah, yes.” I nod. “The solution to never being lonely again is within my reach.”
“I think you mean the solution to never being alone,” Simone says. “It’s very easy to feel lonely in a room full of other people.”
“Sometimes I can’t tell which side of this coin you’re leaning toward,” I say. “What do you think I should do, really?”
“I can’t tell you what to do about your child, Remy. I’m also certain I wouldn’t respect you if you simply did what I recommended. I can only tell you what I’d do, and I’d get an abortion.”
I flinch at the word and look around to see if any diners overheard. Simone looks confused. “I’m sorry, I thought that was an avenue you were considering taking.”
“No, it is. I just…”
Simone nods. “You don’t want people to know. I don’t blame you; the majority of people would judge you. Nevertheless, it is what I would do if in your situation.”
“Because it would interfere with your work or because you don’t want to be a single mother?” I press, genuinely curious.
When Simone waits patiently for a third option, I remember which side we sat on the day of the motherhood book event.
“Oh, or because you don’t want children?”
She nods.
“Why?”
“I wouldn’t be a good mother.”
“Don’t say that! I’m sure you’d—”
“Remy, to pander to me by saying I’m wrong would indicate that you think every woman can do it. That I was made to have children. But I wasn’t assembled at a factory. Nobody is made or created to do anything.”
I lean forward. “But why don’t you think you’d make a good one? Was your mother…?”
“It surprises me how much people want to find a trauma-based reason for any decision that goes against the grain,” Simone says patiently, almost as if to herself.
“I’m not a sex worker because I had a bad childhood; I don’t not want children because my parents were mean.
I grew up in a loving, attentive, and financially stable home.
I simply like having my own time and money and being responsible only for myself. ”
“Do you worry that makes you sound selfish?”
“It does make me sound selfish.” Simone finishes her glass of wine and delicately sets the glass back on the table.
“Selfish means putting yourself first—but so long as you do so without causing harm to anyone else, I don’t see the problem.
The economy will not crash nor will the workforce dissipate if I don’t have children.
I like to wake up late on weekends and sit in the quiet.
I like things clean, tidy, and in their place.
I like having the extra income. To know all this about myself and have children anyway? That’s selfish.”
I smile. “Lin once said something similar.”
“She’s a wise woman, I’m sure.”
“Has teaching children put you off a bit?”
“Not at all.” Simone smiles proudly. “I adore my students. I look forward to seeing them every day and sometimes I even miss them during the weekend; I love Mondays for that reason alone. But I’m allowed to say that because, whenever they annoy me, I need only look at the clock and count down.
As a mother, the countdown does not end at three in the afternoon, it ends when they’re dead. ”
“ Geez , Simone.” I point to my stomach. “Maybe save that speech for my first Mother’s Day? Right now, it’s a little bleak.”
“It doesn’t have to be bleak,” she protests.
“It depends on your stance and belief in your capabilities. Some of my students’ mothers restore my faith in humanity; they’re obsessed with their children and do nothing but the absolute best they can for them.
They’re so typically wonderful in general that I refer to them as sunshine parents .
I wish every child had sunshine parents.
That’s not to say they find it easy; I’ve had the very same mothers break down at parents’ evenings or tell me how exhausted they are, but they’re dedicated, and I don’t think any of them regret having their children.
I think if you choose to have this baby you are making the decision to be the most optimal parent possible. ”
She pauses and looks me squarely in the eye. “I know I can’t be that,” she says. “The question is: Can you?”