God must have heard his prayers, because that night was not the last time they saw each other. There was a third, a fourth, a fifth…

Although they never made firm plans to meet, deep down, they were both looking for each other. Alder changed his usual routes so he would be in the park around the time they usually met, even though lately Emma had been wearing tighter, shorter clothes than usual; that made him deeply uncomfortable and caused him to barely look at her.

Still, he could endure it now. Through effort and prayer, he had managed, if not to eliminate his aversions, at least to keep them under control. He had come to feel genuine affection for the girl.

For her part, she went to the park hoping to talk with him again. He was the only person she could speak to honestly without being criticized, called crazy, or mocked. He never told her what the other adults did: "Life is beautiful," "That’s all in the past," "Focus on what lies ahead," or anything like that. Empty advice and clichés that, far from helping her, only reinforced her desire to kill herself. A desire—and a bitterness—that remained intact despite everything.

Deep down, despite the enormous differences between them, they were very much alike: both led lonely lives full of suffering. Both were rejected, scorned, and pushed to the margins of society. Both carried deep scars in body and spirit, left by the past, and both sought in the night the refuge the day denied them. In those shared things, they found their bond.

That night they began by talking about trivial things, until the conversation turned to what makes life worth living. He was not the one who brought it up; for the most part, he simply listened. But Emma could not stop talking about it.

"Anyway, it’s all a matter of keeping on looking. You’re young, and you have your whole life ahead of you."

"Look, Alder." She looked at him seriously. "I’ve heard all those lectures before, like… Nothing can make me feel any different. The only way to ease my suffering, like… is to get rid of myself."

He did not answer right away. The silence between them lasted only a few seconds, but to Emma it felt longer, as though the whole night were holding its breath.

"Don’t be so sure."

"Oh, really? What do you suggest? And please, not the same old stuff, okay? Not, like, what everyone—including my psychologist—keeps telling me. Like…"

The wanderer tilted his head slightly. He seemed to be searching for the words with an almost stubborn patience.

"All right. But you’ll agree with me that if you loved someone, your life would be different."

"Alder…"

"Admit it, Emma. I know getting someone to love you is difficult, especially because it isn’t up to you. It always depends on someone else, someone you can’t control. And since your parents are out of the picture, even though they love you…"

"That’s right," she said with a dry grimace. "They may love me, but I don’t love them. At least, like… not enough to keep me from killing myself. I already told you."

"Okay. But I’m talking about the opposite situation. Imagine for a moment—and I’m not talking about anyone in particular, okay? I just want you to imagine that you love someone. Anyone. And that you love it deeply, with all your heart."

Emma fell silent. She wrapped her arms around herself, perhaps because of the cool night air, perhaps because of another kind of cold.

"I just don’t know if I want to risk that. Love means suffering too."

"I know. But for now, I just want you to put yourself in that situation. All right? So tell me: if you had someone you loved unconditionally, would you still want to kill yourself?"

She let out a short, joyless laugh.

"Well, when you put it that way… If I had someone to love, like… that way, then sure, I’d have a reason to live. But that’s the problem. I don’t have anyone, like… and I don’t know if I even want to."

Alder nodded slowly, as though that was exactly the answer he had expected.

"What you’re missing is love," he observed. "That’s the emptiness you feel."

"Exactly. And please don’t start telling me to find a boy and all that stuff, like… They’re all the same, and I couldn’t love any of them. Ever since Albert laughed at me and stood me up, like… I swore I’d never be with anyone again."

"Who’s Albert?"

"I don’t want to talk about it, like… I think he made a bet or something. I already thought it was weird… like…"

"You were unlucky even with that."

"Yeah. Do you have any idea how humiliated I felt?" Her voice broke for barely a moment, though she quickly recovered. "Like… I lost so much weight I was practically skin and bones… like, I even went to the hair salon!"

"For the date."

"Yeah."

"And he still stood you up."

"You heard me."

"What a disgusting person…" Alder shook his head in disapproval.

Emma slowly exhaled through her nose, as though she still found it hard to accept that it had really happened.

"I texted him to find out what was going on. To see why he wasn’t showing up. And, like… that was the worst part. That way he knew I was already where we’d agreed to meet, and right after that… like, he blocked me."

"Wow."

"And then, when I saw him in person, in front of his friends, I tried to talk to him. Like… politely. But you know what?"

"Didn’t you say you didn’t want to talk about it?"

She lowered her gaze, annoyed with herself for reopening that wound.

"That’s true. I’d rather not remember it. You have no idea how he humiliated me… in front of everyone. Like…"

"Yeah, I can imagine. No wonder you’ve sworn off guys now. Did you really swear you’d never be with one again?"

"You heard me."

Alder let out an almost imperceptible sigh, a mixture of sadness and resignation.

"Well, that’s a shame!" he murmured.

"What did you say?"

"I said it’s a shame you don’t want to be with guys. They don’t all have to be like that Albert."

"Just in case. I’m still a virgin, you know? Like... I tried it with that guy, like... but that’s what I mean. After that time, I told myself I’d never go through that... ordeal again—for lack of a better word. You know what I mean?"

"Not really. What ordeal do you mean?"

Emma hesitated for a second. She felt uncomfortable, as though the park bench had suddenly become too narrow for the conversation.

"Well, the whole ordeal of going out with a guy, sleeping with him... you know..."

"Oh, I see. But tell me something, going back to what we were talking about. If you truly loved someone, would you still kill yourself? I mean loving someone beyond yourself. Someone who genuinely needed you."

"I’d have to love them a whole lot… like…"

Alder smiled:

"I could suggest someone."

"Who? You?"

"Yes, me." He looked at her, making an effort to master his discomfort as he did so.

"Alder, are you offering yourself for…" she smiled with a touch of irony. "Like…"

The wanderer gave a short laugh and looked away.

"No, for heaven's sake. My life has already run its course. I meant… that I could suggest someone… younger."

"Then who?"

Alder took a few seconds to answer. In that brief interval, Emma heard the distant hum of the night, and even that seemed to draw out the wait. When he spoke, his voice sounded lower, almost reverent:

"Your child."

"Who?"

"Have a child, and you’ll have a reason to live. To do that, naturally, you’ll have to go through that… ‘ordeal’ you say you loathe, but it will only be for a moment."

"Alder, don’t make me laugh."

"Well, or two moments, if you don’t get it right the first time…"

"But are you serious? Like, seriously?"

The vagrant didn’t look away, despite the discomfort.

"All women have a maternal instinct, to a greater or lesser degree. It’s your natural calling, and the way nature has granted you fulfillment. I think women today make a mistake by rejecting or putting it off."

Emma fell silent. She gazed at an indefinite point in the park, as if hoping to find a less absurd answer there, while shaking her head.

"That’s nonsense!" she finally retorted. "Besides, like… how am I supposed to have a child now? Huh?"

"Why not?"

"Well… because! Besides, how could I tell my mother that…? Like, what would she think when she found out… like… when she saw my belly growing? Huh?"

"Well, I suppose she’d prefer to see you pregnant than dead."

Emma gave a faint, lopsided smile—a sad, sarcastic smile tinged with irony—and stared off into the distance, weighing the absurdity of what she’d just heard. Alder continued with stubborn calm:

"With a child, you’d have someone who needs you—desperately, and unconditionally. A reason to live and keep going."

"By force."

"No." You would have a reason to live, because you could love and be loved. That son—or daughter—would give you everything you don’t have. Everything you’re missing. And what’s more, you would be free of anxiety, and the migraines along with it. I’m sure of it.

Emma shook her head, now staring down at the ground. He continued:

"Look, do you know who Viktor Frankl was?"

"No idea."

"He was a famous twentieth-century psychiatrist. A survivor of the German concentration camps, he learned firsthand how people behave in extreme situations."

"Okay, so what?"

"Well, he has a very famous quote: ‘Those who have a "why" to live can bear almost any "how."’"

Emma fell silent for a moment.

"Well, I don’t get it."

"It means that if someone has a reason to live, they’ll keep going, even if their life is very, very hard."

"I see," she said, understanding. "And in my case, that ‘reason’ would be a child. Right?"

"Exactly."

She shook her head again. The mere thought of such nonsense made her feel nauseous. One more burden… on top of the ones she already had! Wouldn’t that just be swapping one problem for another?

"It’s absurd," she said finally.

"Why? Don’t you always say you don’t care about anything? Don’t you always say you don’t give a shit about anything?"

"Yeah, but…"

"But what? Do you not care about anything, or do you?"

"Yes! I don’t care about anything!" she shouted, staring straight at him. "Okay? Nothing matters to me, and I don’t give a shit about anything. That’s how it is. Like…"

"So then, what? Nothing matters to you, but getting pregnant—that matters? Not to mention that it’s easier and less problematic than killing yourself. It certainly isn’t as traumatic—it can even be pleasurable—and it doesn’t require as much courage. Why did you say it’s absurd?"

"Well, because… because it’s a sacrifice. That’s it, like… it’s a sacrifice. It’s pain and suffering, you know… and I’ve already got enough of that. Why do you think women these days don’t want to have children?"

Alder gave an ironic smile.

"That’s another debate… one I have my own opinion on. The point is, all those women you’re talking about have other pursuits that aren’t compatible with motherhood… or are only compatible in a bad way. But none of them stop having children because it entails pain or suffering. Motherhood is like life itself: children bring both joys and sorrows, just like everything else in this world. For that matter, there are more joys than sorrows, and I don’t think they bring any more suffering than what all those women working for others already face."

—Okay, so what are you trying to tell me with that? Like…

"Well, your argument that having a child is painful doesn’t hold water with me. I assure you, no mother regrets having one. In fact, they regret not having them—especially when they reach a certain age. Most of them, anyway; there are all kinds of people in the world, of course." He paused. "Yes, motherhood is hard work. Exhausting, even. But it isn’t sad. It’s joyful and blissful—an antidote to your situation... So," he looked at her "you’ll have to find another argument."

"Well..."

Alder didn’t press her. He let the silence settle between them for a moment, as if that empty space were part of the conversation, too.

"And the argument that you don’t feel like it doesn’t work for me either. Agreed? You don’t feel like living, or doing many of the things you do, and yet you do them anyway."

"Much to my dismay."

"Fine, but you do them. And for the time being, you haven’t managed to end it all. So..."

"You said it yourself: for the time being."

"Agreed. But until you do manage it, give me one reason why you can’t have a child."

Emma looked at him with a mix of annoyance and weariness. Then she took a few seconds before answering, as if she were about to pick out a stone sharper than the last one. She gave him a dismissive look and added:

"You want me to give you a reason?"

"Yes, please."

"Well, I’ll give you two."

"Let’s hear them."

"The first one is, like... how could I be a mother? I’m only sixteen!"

"Ah! How long have you had your period?"

"Since I was thirteen."

"You could have been a mother three years ago. Your body is perfectly prepared for it."

"No!" "It isn't," she denied flatly. "Well... I mean, maybe it is from a biological standpoint."

"Nature doesn’t give stitches without thread, Emma."

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking at him inquisitively. "Like…"

"Well, if your body is ready, your mind is too. Besides, you aren’t alone. You have your parents—your mother… It’s evolution—specifically, hominid evolution. Mothers have never raised their children alone; there have always been other women around to help."

"Okay, okay," she admitted reluctantly. "Now for the second reason: I don’t know if you realize that having children requires, you know… the cooperation of someone else."

The wanderer smiled, though a sad grimace played across his face.

"Yes, I do know. I know very well."

"So?"

"For a woman, that’s never a problem. That ‘someone else’ is easily found."

"For a woman…"

"For any woman," he stated firmly, nodding as he looked her straight in the eye. "Including you."

Emma wasn’t entirely convinced—and with good reason. She weighed the crazy idea Alder was proposing; for a moment, she pictured herself in her living room, nursing a baby while her mother hovered nearby, shouting at her and watching to ensure she did everything right. Then again, she hadn’t cared what her mother said for a long time.