various pros and cons of Dan’s new haircut (pro: it made him look younger; con: it made him look stupid). I changed subjects. “Vernie wants kids? What for?”
“You say ‘what for’ as if children shouldn’t exist unless there’s a logical reason for it, like . . . I don’t know, you needed someone to wash the car for free.”
“I’ll grant you that’s a reason . . .” I smiled. “What did Charlie say, then?”
“Vernie keeps bringing up the subject and he continually changes it. He says he’s not ready, but I think he’s just being really selfish.”
“He’s not being selfish,” I said, defending Charlie’s integrity. “He’s just thinking things through logically. That’s what we men do. We think, we ponder, we mull and then we think and ponder and mull some more and then—”
“They’ve been together seven years!” interrupted Mel. “They’ve been married for four of those . . .”
“Exactly,” I countered. “So why change a winning formula?”
Right at that moment Mel and I simultaneously turned to the adventure playground and watched as a small boy handed his mother a bunch of dandelions. I wasn’t sure, but it looked as though this tiny gesture of love had moved his mother to tears.
Mel was momentarily silent. “So you don’t want kids either.”
A sudden nausea came over me as I put two and two together and made five. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
“You must be joking!” exclaimed Mel, horrified. “Of course not.”
“Okay,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief. “It’s not like I don’t want kids. It’s just that I’m sure they’d be a good idea one day, but not right now.” I squeezed her arm affectionately. “You’ve got your career. I’ve got my stand-up. There’s plenty of time for that sort of thing.”
“I wasn’t talking about right now,” said Mel emphatically.
“Good,” I replied, hoping to put a full stop to the conversation. I tried to change subjects. “What do you fancy doing tonight?”
She ignored me. She wasn’t going to let it lie. “So when?”
“When?”
“When.”
“When?”
“Are you just going to keep repeating everything I say? Because if you are I will be forced to kill you while you’re asleep and plead diminished responsibility. Twelve months on probation for manslaughter and I’ll be a free woman, and you won’t be so annoyingly smug.”
“Smug?”
“Go on, say it one more time, I dare you!”
“I dunno,” I said disdainfully. “Four years? Five years? It’s hard to say. It’s a big enough step getting . . .” My words trailed off as I realized a little bit too late that finishing my sentence wouldn’t be the smartest move in the world. “Let’s drop it, eh?”
“Carry on,” she said indignantly. “It’s a big enough step getting . . .”
“Okay,” I said, no longer able to put up resistance. “When did you have them in mind?”
Mel wouldn’t say at first, but I coaxed her gently to tell me, even though I didn’t really want to know. I just wanted us to get on well together. I didn’t want to have an argument or talk about children we couldn’t afford and that fifty percent of us weren’t in favor of. It was the expression on her face that gave the game away. She looked embarrassed and uncomfortable. Together with her silence this was a bad sign. A terrible sign. The sign of the devil. In Mel’s facial lexicon this meant “I’ve been thinking about babies for a while and I think I’d like them quite soon but I’m embarrassed because I don’t want you to think that I’m behaving like ‘a woman.’ ”
“Oh, Mel,” I said mournfully.
“Don’t you ‘oh, Mel’ me! Since Vernie’s been going on about babies morning, noon and night these past months, they’ve been on my mind. It’s not about hormones. It’s not about feeling maternal. It’s about me and what I want from life. It’s not a crime to think about the future, Duffy. I know to you it’s the
“You say ‘what for’ as if children shouldn’t exist unless there’s a logical reason for it, like . . . I don’t know, you needed someone to wash the car for free.”
“I’ll grant you that’s a reason . . .” I smiled. “What did Charlie say, then?”
“Vernie keeps bringing up the subject and he continually changes it. He says he’s not ready, but I think he’s just being really selfish.”
“He’s not being selfish,” I said, defending Charlie’s integrity. “He’s just thinking things through logically. That’s what we men do. We think, we ponder, we mull and then we think and ponder and mull some more and then—”
“They’ve been together seven years!” interrupted Mel. “They’ve been married for four of those . . .”
“Exactly,” I countered. “So why change a winning formula?”
Right at that moment Mel and I simultaneously turned to the adventure playground and watched as a small boy handed his mother a bunch of dandelions. I wasn’t sure, but it looked as though this tiny gesture of love had moved his mother to tears.
Mel was momentarily silent. “So you don’t want kids either.”
A sudden nausea came over me as I put two and two together and made five. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
“You must be joking!” exclaimed Mel, horrified. “Of course not.”
“Okay,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief. “It’s not like I don’t want kids. It’s just that I’m sure they’d be a good idea one day, but not right now.” I squeezed her arm affectionately. “You’ve got your career. I’ve got my stand-up. There’s plenty of time for that sort of thing.”
“I wasn’t talking about right now,” said Mel emphatically.
“Good,” I replied, hoping to put a full stop to the conversation. I tried to change subjects. “What do you fancy doing tonight?”
She ignored me. She wasn’t going to let it lie. “So when?”
“When?”
“When.”
“When?”
“Are you just going to keep repeating everything I say? Because if you are I will be forced to kill you while you’re asleep and plead diminished responsibility. Twelve months on probation for manslaughter and I’ll be a free woman, and you won’t be so annoyingly smug.”
“Smug?”
“Go on, say it one more time, I dare you!”
“I dunno,” I said disdainfully. “Four years? Five years? It’s hard to say. It’s a big enough step getting . . .” My words trailed off as I realized a little bit too late that finishing my sentence wouldn’t be the smartest move in the world. “Let’s drop it, eh?”
“Carry on,” she said indignantly. “It’s a big enough step getting . . .”
“Okay,” I said, no longer able to put up resistance. “When did you have them in mind?”
Mel wouldn’t say at first, but I coaxed her gently to tell me, even though I didn’t really want to know. I just wanted us to get on well together. I didn’t want to have an argument or talk about children we couldn’t afford and that fifty percent of us weren’t in favor of. It was the expression on her face that gave the game away. She looked embarrassed and uncomfortable. Together with her silence this was a bad sign. A terrible sign. The sign of the devil. In Mel’s facial lexicon this meant “I’ve been thinking about babies for a while and I think I’d like them quite soon but I’m embarrassed because I don’t want you to think that I’m behaving like ‘a woman.’ ”
“Oh, Mel,” I said mournfully.
“Don’t you ‘oh, Mel’ me! Since Vernie’s been going on about babies morning, noon and night these past months, they’ve been on my mind. It’s not about hormones. It’s not about feeling maternal. It’s about me and what I want from life. It’s not a crime to think about the future, Duffy. I know to you it’s the
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