‘It’s just a story, I know. But . . . what would we tell our children?’ he said, and instantly regretted it.
‘Do you sometimes imagine having children with me?’
He nodded.
She smiled.
It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth, either. Whenever he slept with a woman, he couldn’t help but imagine accidentally getting her pregnant and having to stay with her. Not because he had this great longing for children – it was the opposite. For the same reason, when he was rock-climbing, he sometimes imagined falling. It made him value his current situation all the more, and take proper safety measures.
‘Do you give them names?’
‘I just know what names I wouldn’t give them. Kevin. Marcel. Thomas. Rita. Sabrina.’
‘You’re right, those are awful. Luckily, I only know one Marcel and one Sabrina. They’re both terrible human beings.’
‘A person can’t help being called Sabrina, though.’
‘Why don’t you want to tell my parents how we really met?’
‘If they’re anything like mine, they’ll think people who use that app are just looking for sex. I don’t want them to think I was only after their daughter’s body.’
By Lukas Maisel, born in Zurich in 1987. His debut novel, Buch der geträumten Inseln, received the Terra Nova Prize. From GRANTA magazine.