Admitting the Someone Else is Right.

“It just doesn’t make sense with everything going on in the world right now.

Climate change is happening faster than ever (thanks to humans).

The planet is already overpopulated as is (thanks to humans).

We don’t have enough resources to sustain what we have, or should I say WHO we have…

there are millions of kids out there waiting to be adopted, what more do I need to say?!”

“I already know all that, Mel! I know, okay? But we’re getting older now...and well, you know I’ve always wanted kids-”

“But look at the facts! If you ‘already know’ what I just blatantly stated, how can you still want something so-so…so”

“So selfish?..”

Mel wasn’t always so black and white. We used to talk about having kids all the time when we first got married. We would describe their personalities, predict their bad behavior and analyze how we would discipline them. Mel would always say the same thing;

“I read that one parenting book, ‘Tackle Your Teens.’ you remember that one?

“Yep.”

“-And it said that setting boundaries is KEY!”

I’ve always had my favorite names; Malorie and Theo. Mel liked my choices so whenever we thought about our kids, those were the names we used. They aren’t even real yet, and I already love our kids. Mel and I fantasized for hours one night about where we could all live, which school they could go to, what clothes they might like and how they’d wear their hair. I spoke of them like a singer sings their favorite song. Mel’s eyes lit up like an animated Pixar character. It was like peering into Mel and I’s future together as parents. I could see her playing with the kids’, messing with their toys and teaching them “the right way” to put together a transformer (because apparently the instruction booklet was inefficient, according to Mel).

She can be so sweet.

But I will say Mel has always been overanalytical. From budgeting to cleaning to how I brush my teeth in the morning. She never doesn’t have something to say about how something doesn’t make sense.

“Why do you wet your toothbrush before and after you put toothpaste?

“Because I like getting the bristles wet. Then they’re not so crunchy.”

“They’re going to get wet in your mouth though…Plus it’s a waste of water.”

Waste. Mel hates waste. I hate waste too. I think that’s why she isn’t so fond of us having kids anymore. In some ways, I don’t blame her. The world is changing too fast. Science says it’s over. Mel and I watch the news every morning before work. She sits on our brown, faux leather, two-seater, garage sale couch. I buzz around the kitchen putting together my lunchbox full of leftover noodles and cookies. We both share coffee from an oversized tweedy bird, coffee mug. It’s my favorite mug. It helps digest the news every morning, which mostly features fudged up American politics, local murders, elderly veterans who fought in Afghanistan during the 2010’s, and previews on what’s up next on channel 9.

This morning, Mel and I skipped the part about what’s up next on channel 9 and went straight to arguing about having kids. Again.

“What happened to when we dreamed about our babies? Where’s THAT Mel, Mel?”

“Look, it would be great to have kids but it’s just not practical. Things were different back then, we could have kids and they’d have a chance in this world.”

“Oh, so then if we had kids back in 1997, they’d have a chance? The world wasn’t overpopulated in 1997? Climate change wasn’t happening in 1997? There weren’t orphans in 199-frickin-7?!”

“Actually, climate change started deteriorating drastically after the start of the industrial revolution in the late 1800’s.”

“Then WHAT is it? Why don’t you want to have kids? Is it me?!”

“No, Tyler, it’s not you!”

“Really? Because I don’t buy your ‘the world is crap so we shouldn’t have kids’ crap.”

“Ty, we’re not in the best place for kids financially right now. We have a one-bedroom apartment in North Layward. Also, look at the world right now! You need a master’s degree for just the chance to get a job with a livable wage, and even then, all those years in college leaves us with a mountain of debt. We’re still paying off our own student loans right now, how can we start saving for our kids’ tuition? We’re just barely on track for retirement, and in the end, what’s it for anyway? Climate change passed the point of irreversibility back in 2025. We might see the world die, Ty. You want to produce more kids and watch them die too?”

“So, you’d rather not have kids at all then? Is that how you feel about everybody? I’ll die one day you know, I could die tomorrow. Would you have never wanted to marry me if I die tomorrow then?”

“I would never regret marrying you.”

“Then how is this different!?”

“Well one; you dying tomorrow is an uncertainty. Our planet dying is already projected for 2098. Plus, we have other options. We can save up for adoption. We could become foster parents. We could just not have kids, we have each other.”

“It’s not the same though, Mel.”

“…I know it’s not the same…But we have to go to work…We can talk about this more tonight. I gotta go, I love you, I’ll see you tonight.”

“Love you too.”

Mel shuts the door behind her, trapping the apartment’s dim morning light inside and blocking out the cold, morning air. The sun doesn’t come up until 7:30am and our day starts at 7:00am. It’s 6:41am, one minute later than when Mel and I usually leave for work. I had been so caught up in our back and forth that I still only had one shoe on. Everybody else was ready to go; the keys were in my hand, my lunch in my bag, TV went back to sleep, and my gum sat in my pocket unaware of its destiny to vanquish my coffee breathe on the way to work. The only one lagging was my left shoe, waiting to be worn and worked.

My muscle memory took care of the effort required to tie my shoes while my consciousness dwelled on what Mel and I just talked about. It frustrates me that I can never convince her that having kids would be a blessing to the world, not a curse.

Or would it? Maybe Mel’s right and I’m letting my emotions blind my logic. Sure, lots of families are electing not to have kids. The US government is even paying couples to sign a legal contract not to have kids. Adopting is basically free. Maybe Mel is right. Maybe Mel is right. Maybe I’m wrong. I’m wrong, Mel’s right. She’s always right. She uses facts. I’m using tradition to justify myself. Tradition and fatherly instinct. Facts should trump emotions, right?

I felt like crying.

Normally, I don’t cry after a fight with anybody but losing the possibility of having children feels like losing my children. How can I lose my children? I love them. Everything I have is already for them and they’re not even here. I took women’s studies classes in college to make sure I wasn’t some bone-headed man’s man for my son or daughter. I got a degree so I could support a family, I married Mel in an age where marriage is a sham. I wanted to do things for our family. Can I accept that what I’ve been working for my entire life isn’t logical? Isn’t practical?

Now I was crying.

It’s 6:42am, my shoe is on my foot and it’s time to go. I reopen the door that was last operated by Mel, herself. Immediately, the bitter winter air pinches the skin on my face. It’s too cold for work. Work shouldn’t be allowed when it’s cold enough to snow. Thank goodness the leasing office gave Mel and I a first-floor apartment, otherwise I might’ve had to impromptu build my own first floor apartment next to the apartment building. That would’ve been inconvenient for the racoons.

And our neighbors.

I shuffle as fast as a six-foot human can possibly shuffle to his car and try my best to scrape the icy windshield just enough to drive, but not enough to drive confidently. It’ll do, given the chilly circumstances. I thought about Mel. I thought what I had just thought about. Can I really give up my kids? Should I ask Mel to reconsider? Should I look into adopting? Maybe that’s not such a bad idea. I know plenty of people who have been adopted and have adopted their own children. They all seem happy. Adopting isn’t just for gay couples. That’s what Mel says sometimes when we talk about having kids, which always annoys me.

Adopting could be beautiful. Perhaps Theo and Malorie can still look like Mel and I if their parents looked like us, right? Maybe they’ll still have some traits like Mel and I. For example, they’ll inhale oxygen. Mel and I both love oxygen.

And maybe Theo will like football like me. Lots of guys like football, yet I didn’t conceive them.

Maybe Malorie will like football too. Maybe she’ll have brown, shaggy hair like I do when I haven’t cut my hair in a while. Maybe she’ll hate that.

Maybe Theo will be transgender. Maybe Malorie will change the world.

Maybe Theo will like sleeping in on the weekends like Mel does. Maybe he’ll hate the taste of raspberries like Mel, even though Mel didn’t carry him around for 9 months.

Hmm…maybe it’s not such a bad thing to avoid Mel the discomfort of being pregnant. She’s definitely right about us getting a little older. Maybe it’s best to avoid risking birth defects.

Maybe Theo will have a birth defect. Maybe Malorie will color code her closet like I do.

Maybe Theo and Malorie will still call us Mom and Dad, even though we didn’t make them ourselves. Maybe Malorie and Theo will still love us even though we didn’t birth them.

I know I’ll love them.

A smile lit up my face. It’s 6:44am. I need to stop thinking, start driving and maybe traffic won’t be so bad today. But I couldn’t help but feel warmth in my stomach. It’s forty degrees outside and I feel warm. Maybe adopting is the right thing to do. I started driving and I reached the main road, but I couldn’t drop the subject out of my thinking box. The road, the trees, and the buildings whizzed by while I was on autopilot. Everything was a shade of blue and gray, at least it seemed like it because of the cold. Other cars didn’t seem to be manned by people. It was as though they were remote controlled toys with the sole purpose of providing scenery for my ride to work. All the while, I was lost in thought about giving my children a new life. How ironic it seemed to me since I wouldn’t be creating any new life at all. Still, I molded the idea like playdough in my head. So many different shapes and scenarios crossed my mind, and I may as well have been a zombie driving to work.

Somehow, I arrived on time and alive despite having no sense of time or memory as to how the drive went. There was only one thing I had on my mind in that exact point in time. I need to text Mel. Personally, I prefer calling Mel, I like hearing her voice and having nearly instantaneous conversation. However, I know Mel avoids holding her cellphone to her face. She mutters something about electromagnetic radiation seeping into her brain cells and causing cancer. I slipped my phone out of my black slacks and started typing a text message.

“Hey…you ok?”

Send. I hope she’s not too busy. It’s 7:01am, and technically I’m punching in late.

“Good morning, Tim!”

“Morning Mr. Tyler, how was your weekend?”

“It was great, thanks for asking.”

Tim is our receptionist. He’s a chipper guy. Greeting Tim in the morning always reminds me of Mel because she thinks it’s unnecessary. She always says that assuming someone else’s morning, afternoon or evening as “good” is presumptuous and inferior to silence. Instead, she greets people with a smile. “that way, someone is acknowledged yet silence is preserved.” I, on the other hand, disagree.

I look down at my phone. Text from Mel.

“Yes, you?”

7:10am and I’ve checked emails, listened to voicemails and given attention to sticky notes from last Friday. Mel’s texts, however, always have priority whenever possible. My thumbs move unnaturally quick over the smartphone’s screen.

“I’m fine” Send.

“I think I could see myself adopting.”

Send.

My phone screen clicks into a blackness. There it is. Mel convinced me. Or maybe Mel just gave me the idea and I convinced myself. Maybe both. Regardless, Mel made me realize that maybe she’s right in some sort of aspect. She’s right. That’s the one thing about being with someone so cut and dry. So much of what we discuss boils down to either I’m right or she is. It is or it isn’t. Facts are facts and you believe them, or you let your mind misconstrue them for your own benefit. Like everyone, I hate admitting that Mel is right so normally I try and disguise my succession with some other statement. For example, when Mel tells me to bring a jacket before we go out and I realize she’s right, I might say something like, “it actually got a little chilly, I’ll be back,” and then I grab a jacket. Mel always figures it out though, and she’ll see right through my text.

My phone lights up.

It’s from Mel. I’m anxious to see what she says. If she’s okay with adopting too, maybe a whole new future is on our horizon.

I open my phone up while sitting at my desk chair. The sun is officially up and it’s 7:32am. It’s no longer gray and the sun is making my office window seem bigger than it is.

My messages app has a red dot over it, in which I click and strain my eyes just a little bit harder.

I open the message.

“Then let’s find our Malorie and Theo :)”

Sometimes, she knows just what to say.