Read Online Multiple Choice by Alejandro Zambra - Free Book Online
Authors: Alejandro Zambra
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We thought we were too young to take on the responsibility of a dog, but we werenât really so young: I was twenty-four, same as your mother. At that age, my father already had two children. The younger one, four years old, was me. But in my generationâI know you hate that wordâhaving children was something we only began to think about at thirty or thirty-five, if we ever started thinking about it. Anyway, I donât know if itâs any consolation, but when we found out about the pregnancy we never considered the possibility of an abortion. I mean, we thought about it, we asked about prices at clandestine clinics, we even went to one of them, but we didnât seriously consider it. It would be inexact to say that we changed our minds, because, as Iâve said, it was one idea among many, but it wasnât the primary one.
The day you were born was the happiest day of my life, but I was so nervous I donât know if
happiness
is really the best word to describe what I felt. I think it is my obligation to tell you, in spite of the absolute love I have always felt for you, in spite of how much you have brightened my life, and I assume your motherâs as wellâI havenâtseen her in around ten years now, but Iâm sure that for her as well, you have been a constant source of happinessâin spite of all that, I have to tell you that during the eighteen years youâve now been alive, Iâve never stopped wondering what my life would have been like if you had never been born.
Itâs an overwhelming thought, an exit that leads to the darkest of nights, to the most complete blackness, but also to shadow and sometimes, slowly, toward something like a clearing in the woods. These fantasies are normal, but itâs not so common for parents to confess them. For example, over the years I have thought thousands of times that if you hadnât been born I would have needed less money, or could have disappeared for weeks on end without worrying about anyone. I could have prolonged my youth for several more years. I could have even killed myself. I mean, the first consequence of your birth was that from then on, I could never kill myself. When some friend of mine who doesnât have kids talks to me about his little wounds where, after languidly digging around in them, heâs found infinite desperation and anguish, I donât say what I really think, which is this: Why donât you just kill yourself?
I donât know if my life would make sense without you. I donât think my life has any meaning other than to be with you.
__________
Everyone gets erasedâlife consists of meeting people whom first you love and then you eraseâbut you canât erase children, you canât erase parents. I know youâve tried to erase me, and you couldnât. I know I have existed, for you, in excess. That I have also existed in absence. When I wasnât there, when I went weeks without seeing you that year I spent out of Chile, for example: even then I existedtoo much, because I wasnât there but my absence was. Thatâs why I think it is only fair to tell you that I have also tried to erase you. All parents fantasize about those irresponsible lives, about eternal youth, sudden heroism. Itâs the distortion of something we used to say, trying to imbue the words with a certain philosophical density: why bring children into a shitty world?
Our parents didnât think that, they believed in love automatically, they married very young and they were unhappy, but not so much more than we were. They worked a ton and they didnât even try to associate work with any kind of happiness, so their suffering was more concrete. Plus, they believed in God and they made us believe in God. Thatâs why we ate our food, thatâs why we did our homework, thatâs why it was hard for us, at night, to fall asleep: because God was
We thought we were too young to take on the responsibility of a dog, but we werenât really so young: I was twenty-four, same as your mother. At that age, my father already had two children. The younger one, four years old, was me. But in my generationâI know you hate that wordâhaving children was something we only began to think about at thirty or thirty-five, if we ever started thinking about it. Anyway, I donât know if itâs any consolation, but when we found out about the pregnancy we never considered the possibility of an abortion. I mean, we thought about it, we asked about prices at clandestine clinics, we even went to one of them, but we didnât seriously consider it. It would be inexact to say that we changed our minds, because, as Iâve said, it was one idea among many, but it wasnât the primary one.
The day you were born was the happiest day of my life, but I was so nervous I donât know if
happiness
is really the best word to describe what I felt. I think it is my obligation to tell you, in spite of the absolute love I have always felt for you, in spite of how much you have brightened my life, and I assume your motherâs as wellâI havenâtseen her in around ten years now, but Iâm sure that for her as well, you have been a constant source of happinessâin spite of all that, I have to tell you that during the eighteen years youâve now been alive, Iâve never stopped wondering what my life would have been like if you had never been born.
Itâs an overwhelming thought, an exit that leads to the darkest of nights, to the most complete blackness, but also to shadow and sometimes, slowly, toward something like a clearing in the woods. These fantasies are normal, but itâs not so common for parents to confess them. For example, over the years I have thought thousands of times that if you hadnât been born I would have needed less money, or could have disappeared for weeks on end without worrying about anyone. I could have prolonged my youth for several more years. I could have even killed myself. I mean, the first consequence of your birth was that from then on, I could never kill myself. When some friend of mine who doesnât have kids talks to me about his little wounds where, after languidly digging around in them, heâs found infinite desperation and anguish, I donât say what I really think, which is this: Why donât you just kill yourself?
I donât know if my life would make sense without you. I donât think my life has any meaning other than to be with you.
__________
Everyone gets erasedâlife consists of meeting people whom first you love and then you eraseâbut you canât erase children, you canât erase parents. I know youâve tried to erase me, and you couldnât. I know I have existed, for you, in excess. That I have also existed in absence. When I wasnât there, when I went weeks without seeing you that year I spent out of Chile, for example: even then I existedtoo much, because I wasnât there but my absence was. Thatâs why I think it is only fair to tell you that I have also tried to erase you. All parents fantasize about those irresponsible lives, about eternal youth, sudden heroism. Itâs the distortion of something we used to say, trying to imbue the words with a certain philosophical density: why bring children into a shitty world?
Our parents didnât think that, they believed in love automatically, they married very young and they were unhappy, but not so much more than we were. They worked a ton and they didnât even try to associate work with any kind of happiness, so their suffering was more concrete. Plus, they believed in God and they made us believe in God. Thatâs why we ate our food, thatâs why we did our homework, thatâs why it was hard for us, at night, to fall asleep: because God was
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