A Trip to the Zoo

I woke up in a bad mood this morning, without knowing why. My wife was waiting for me all dressed up. She had made my favorite breakfast. "Hurry up, love", she said, "we 're going to be late".

"Where are we going?"

"To the zoo."

But of course, how did I forget? They had arranged it weeks ago, with her best friend, her husband and their six year old boy. I think that my wife was even more anxious to go there than the boy and I couldn't understand why. Often I would give up on trying to understand her and this was one of those times. So, one night, when I was watching the news, I mumbled in agreement when she asked me to go with her to the zoo because we are a couple and it wouldn't be right if she went on her own. We pay for our mistakes and now it was time for me to pay for the fact that I chose to waste one Sunday rather than listen to her whining. But now that this Sunday has come, I wished I had thrown the remote control at the wall and yelled, "I don't want to go to the zoo, I've only got that one day to rest!". Many times I fantasize about smashing everything in the apartment, but unfortunately I'm incapable of even raising my voice. My aggression is relieved through my razor sharp sense of humor and as my wife says, my indifference and sarcasm are sometimes even worse than physical violence.

I ate my breakfast in a hurry because every minute and a half I could hear her saying in her sweet voice that "we shouldn't let our friends waiting, let's not forget that they have a little boy". We left the house and practically ran to the car. She decided to drive herself, so we got yelled at by two drivers and an old lady, but with the help of God we made it to that damned zoo. Our friends, who I don't consider my friends, were waiting for us at the ticket line and their kid was hopping all around them, pretending to be an Indian. My wife interrupted him and started asking him about school. A couple of minutes later she was practically interrogating him. How do you like school? Are you a good student? Which course is your favorite? Do you have any friends? Do you like your teacher? Do you like any of the little girls? The six year old boy got bored of all these questions and started playing the Indian again, upsetting his mother who told him that it's rude not to answer when he is being asked something and that he should apologize. He said that he was sorry in Indian, his mother sighed wearily, his father was browsing a newspaper and my wife started looking around. And that's when I realized that we shouldn't have gone there.

I was surrounded by families. All kinds of families. Couples with a baby in the stroller and a toddler, couples expecting a baby and having another one in their arms, couples with a teenage child and a baby or toddler, couples with two teenagers fighting with each other, couples with a grandmother holding their baby, couples with three kids, warning them not to stray too far, everywhere children, children, children... I wanted to scream. Don't get me wrong, I've nothing against all these little people. They are quite cute and usually smarter than us adults. Then why did I want to scream, you ask. Because whenever my wife sees a baby in a tummy, in a stroller, in somebody's arms or on its own she turns and gives me this persistent, suppliant, sad, angry look. I turn my eyes elsewhere but she keeps her own on me and this is followed by a heavy, charged silence during which we hate each other for some time. And during these thirty minutes that we were waiting at the zoo we hated each other once more.

We never talk about having children. I had made it clear before we got married that I didn't want to have children. She said that she could not live without me. And so we had a wonderful first four years without this cloud over our heads. Until one day she said to me very seriously that she wanted a child. I replied just as seriously that I didn't and that she knew this all along. She said that she hoped that my stance on the matter would change over time. I told her that it hasn't. There followed a long period of time during which one tried to convince the other, resulting in drama, tears and bitter comments. One day I had enough and left home. I stayed at my brother's for a month. One night she called me in tears and told me that she couldn't live without me. I told her that I didn't want her to make such a sacrifice. She replied that she could never love anybody else, so she would never have children anyway. I came back home and for a while we enjoyed each other. I had missed her and she had missed me and we realized how much we loved each other. Sharing your life with someone that you love is a very beautiful thing. But, after some time she started sending me these stares, for which I can't do anything because they are never accompanied by words. If she whined, as she does because we don't go to the theater, I would be able to manage it, maybe I'd even break up with her permanently this time. I'm afraid to open up this old wound, I'm afraid that our marriage can't take it and the truth is, I can't live without her either. I hate myself for not being able to make her happy, but I'm also angry at her because I had told her, I was clear, she had promised me that I would be enough and now I'm not. I know that whenever she sees a cute baby sleeping she hates me because it's not our baby, she hates me but she can't even say it because she's afraid that she will lose me and all that she has left are these stares that become more intense as time passes, leaving more and more charged silence in their wake.

I feel wronged. People shouldn't marry expecting to change each other. I understand, though, that she feels wronged too. I am depriving her of motherhood which is supposed to complete a woman. As time passes she becomes sadder and sadder. I can see the puzzlement in her eyes. When we were still talking about it and she asked me why I didn't want children, I couldn't give her an answer. This made her hope that she'd convince me, eventually. It's actually weird how determined I am about something, without being able to explain why. I haven't given it much thought, nor do I want to. It's my right to not want to bring a life into this world for which I will be responsible for eighteen years. It's not that I shy away from responsibilities. I've been holding my own from a very young age, since I grew up without a mother. I just don't like this world, it's unfair and cruel, life is unpredictable and full of hardships, nothing is certain and I don't want to contribute to the creation of a young soul which will face a thousand perils, such as disease, accidents and most of all mental pain. If people weren't so fragile I'd probably be ok with having a child. Of course, I've never shared my thoughts on this because everyone would think me crazy, what is more natural than a couple having a baby, people have been having them for centuries and most of their offspring manage to survive one way or the other. However, I've made up my mind and I'm not going to let society force me to be a parent. I just hope that I won't die too old. I'm guessing that the loneliness of old age is unbearable when you don't have someone to take care of you, but this is certainly not enough to change my mind. And since I've learned to accept the consequences of my choices without complaint, I understand that I must learn to live with these moments of hate that I share with my wife when we see babies and children, so I was bearing them stoically that morning, waiting in line at the zoo.

And then something happened which upset me greatly and brought to my mind a memory which I wished had remained deeply, very deeply buried. A young couple with their two children shamelessly cut in front of us poor people who waited all this time and went straight to the ticket box. Some started shouting and cursing, others complained to the ones next to them. In any case, the culprits went in straight away. I closed my eyes for a while, trying to understand why my stomach had been tied in a knot and my entire body felt so tense as I shrank back to my six year old self. I was a frightened, skinny little boy, deeply hurt because my mother had left me and completely dependent on a cruel and ill tempered father. My memory of our visit to the zoo came alive; it was a couple of years after my mom had left us. I was gripping his hand tightly, fearing that he would leave me too, fearing that I would be sucked into the crowd, that I'd be left all alone in this dangerous world and that I'd die. I didn't love him, that's for sure. He was solemn, he never read me any stories, he never played with me and he always complained that I didn't help him around the house. Sometimes he would bring women over and he'd made me stay in my room. I'd want to go to the bathroom, but I was scared to leave my room because I sensed that something horrible was going on outside, so I held on until I couldn't hold on any longer and...

I'd cry and fall asleep with soaked trousers and soaked eyes. It's no use remembering all this and I'm happy I had buried it all these years, but this couple that cut in front of us reminded me how we'd done the same thing. He was dragging me forward, I felt that we were doing something wrong but didn't know what that was, people around us started shouting and he was looking at them defiantly, cursing them every now and then until someone cut us off. I fearfully held on to his hand. It was cold and rough, just like his heart, but it was the only hand I had to hold on to and suddenly that someone who I only recall as a huge shadow shoved him and our hands got separated and I was swallowed by an abyss, I was lost and I started crying and then I heard a lady yelling, "Stop it, you're hurting that little boy". They kept on shoving each other and then they stopped and he pulled me abruptly and we went in the zoo while I was searching in the crowd for the lady that had yelled, hoping that she'd take me with her.

I pretended to have a headache and left before my wife could come after me. Of course, I'm going to pay dearly for this and I'm already preparing to shut myself down for the endless whining that's coming. That's ok, I'm used to it anyway. I'm back home now and I feel nice, I've found my good mood and myself again. Life is not to be taken very seriously. The more you invite misery the more it will fill you up inside and no, I don't want to die whining, that's something that I've decided a long time ago. Someone once told me that behind my sense of humor hides a broken hearted child. I don't know if he's right, but I stopped hanging around with him. I don't know what the future brings and I may end up dying alone, I've thought of this possibility often, but it's no use thinking about my death, my future, not even about my relationship with my wife. Right now I'm sitting on the balcony with a cup of coffee in my hand, somewhere far away the sun is setting, the sky is red and a bird, a free bird, not like those poor birds at the zoo that I didn't get to see today, is flying somewhere far away...