While they were still dating, she loved driving down to see him in Pilsen from her apartment in Ukrainian Village. She’d never been a fan of driving, ever, but she had come to be a fan of having a car. The drive south to Pilsen from Ukrainian Village was low-key enjoyable; she’d listen to BEZ, or a CD, lately that Flaming Lips he left in her car, and it’s a half hour of anticipation of being with her new love, sitting on his sofa, talking for an hour or two, making out for an hour or two, maybe doing more than that for an hour or two in his full-sized bed, spending the night spooning.
I don’t think you’d be a good mother.
This is a thing he said, some months in, maybe three, maybe six? Does it matter? Is there a time to ever say this? It’s a thing he said in his bed, with her on the side up against the wall, and there was some conversation prior to this statement, she’s pretty sure, it wasn’t totally out of the blue, but look, no matter where this comes in the conversation, any conversation, it’s not a thing to say. It’s not a thing to say.
She said—something, she remembers that much, and she remembers having some strong feelings about what this might mean for them as a couple. Like forget whether or not they’d have kids, only that he would think this and then say it out loud. Forget whatever kind of mom she thought she’d be. She had her own doubts, didn’t need anyone else throwing theirs into the mix. She wasn’t a pioneer of doubts about one’s maternal capabilities, she was good with kids, she thought, had a lot of experience working with kids, loved kids, but would she be good with her own kids, kids she didn’t get to send home to someone else at the end of the day, who is so sure they’ll be good moms before they do it for real, liars, nobody. Maybe there are no good moms.
Was there some reason she didn’t say Okay, well since you think this, and you know you want kids, I guess bye? She’s sure, because she didn’t say that, because she didn’t leave, that she was somehow able to make him see that this was maybe not a thing to say (though she had no mind to try to convince him about her potential parenting skills because fuck that) and he backtracked, said it wasn’t what he meant, apologized, never said a thing like it again and apologized many more times over the years, during which time the kids conversation evolved from his I want them to her I’m open to their Let’s table this, where it stayed, but it was still a thing that was out there, a thing she would always know that he had one time thought.