Gina and Mike (8 page)

I yawned. I had had enough for one night.  I wished that I had someone who would just pick the perfect sperm for me. I was on information overload. I’d have to do an excel spreadsheet and rate each donor on various factors. Or maybe I should compose a rubric and then rate each donor that way. I’d go with the one with the highest composite score and in the event of a tie I’d have to consider secondary information, like the interviewer’s notes.

Chapter  8

Mike

Seeing Cookie at Coach Smith’s funeral sure made me think about things I hadn’t thought about in a long time. Like the night Gina broke up with me. I still remember that night, as if it were an inning ago. Probably because it hit me so hard, like a batter who rips the cover off a ball. It nails you in the gut, knocks the wind out of you and forces your eyeballs into the infield as you blink the dirt, clay, sand and silt away.  Damn, Gina.  After all these years, I’m still blinking.  

That night, sitting in Gina’s living room, she looked me straight in the eyes and told me that she didn’t love me anymore. She said she had been pretending. That it was over.  Wow. Even thinking about it now makes me tense. 

I just didn’t get it. I didn’t get how she could be so into me one minute and not the next. I always thought there was something else going on, especially because Gina had been acting so weird for weeks, but I could never figure it out.

After the breakup, I’d call Gina every so often just so I could hear her voice. As soon as she answered the phone I’d hang up.    

I have to admit that when Cookie told me Gina wasn’t married, it gave me a rush. Like maybe she never found anyone she loved more than she once loved me. Not that I’m egotistical, but Gina and I did have something pretty good. And hearing she was unattached made me wonder for a second if maybe we could hook up.

After Gina broke it off, I threw the sleeping bag we always used for making out in a dumpster behind the mall. I haven’t been back to that spot in the woods since. I just never felt comfortable taking another girl there. The tree was our place. Our names were carved in it. It kind of scared me that just hearing Gina’s name could trigger such strong feelings in me twenty years later.

There were so many things I had wondered about her.  What was her husband like? How many kids did she have? Did they have red hair? Gina always wanted a girl with red hair. I never would have guessed Gina would become a prosecutor. I thought she always wanted to be a writer.  It didn’t surprise me, though, that she’d choose the sex crimes unit. She always fought for people who couldn’t fight for themselves.

There was this guy, Ray, in our class. He was a little backward but he could draw like Picasso. Some of the guys made fun of him. If one of them made a comment about Ray when Gina was around, she’d lay into them.  And there was druggie, Joe who Gina befriended. She saw something good in him when no one else did.  He ended up in rehab and now counsels drug addicts.

About the only person Gina wasn’t fond of was Peter. He creeped her out because he always stared at her. It weirded her out so much that I talked to Peter about it. I think I made him piss his pants when I cornered him in the locker room. I wasn’t going to hurt him; I just wanted him to stop looking at my girl. After that, Gina didn’t complain about him anymore. 

Damn. I hadn’t thought about all these people in years. 

I hated the house when Jack was at Lisa’s. It was too quiet.  I walked into his room and sat on his bed. It reminded me of my room when I was his age – junk everywhere. Comic books stacked on his nightstand. His baseball glove, spikes and bat scattered on the floor. Comic hero posters taped to the walls and clothing hung half out of his dresser drawers. He definitely preferred things messy.

The phone rang. It was Jack. He was calling to say goodnight. It was something Lisa started. She thought it was important for Jack to tell me goodnight on the nights he wasn’t with me. And, of course, when he slept at my house, I made sure he called her.  

I picked up the black-framed photo of me and Jack sitting on his computer desk. We were making funny faces. Jack was about four at the time. Looking at him, you’d never guess he was my kid. He has blond hair and fair skin like his mom. Side by side, we looked like an Oreo with a missing wafer.

****

Gina

I dug the reunion invitation out of the trash. The reunion was six weeks away. I wondered how much weight I could lose in six weeks. If I went to the reunion, I wanted to look good.  Not just average, but good. I’ve always exercised and never had to worry about eating cakes and cookies and the salty snacks I loved. But my body was changing, and I couldn’t eat all the junk I used to eat and stay a size 8, even with the exercising. It was a bitch getting older.

I remember when I was in high school and we celebrated Mom’s fortieth birthday. I remember thinking how old that was. Now that I’m almost forty, it seems so young. I don’t feel old. Even the fertility doctor said lots of women are waiting to have children until their late 30s or early 40s. Although he said some have to use donor eggs because their eggs are not viable.

I sipped my tea as I checked my calendar to see if I would be out of town for work the day of the reunion. Turned out I was in Atlanta the week before and Chicago two weeks later. But that week was free. 

I stood naked in front of the full-length mirror mounted on the back of my bathroom door. I rubbed my hand over my stomach then pinched my belly fat. I doubted that I could lose two inches in six weeks. It wasn’t like when I was a teenager and could exist on water and crackers for a few days to drop some weight before the prom. I long since gave up the cracker and water diet, but running consistently might help. It did seem silly, though, trying to get a flat stomach when I was going to turn around and get pregnant.

I turned sideways, wondering what that view would look like when I was nine months pregnant. Sue said that she got so big that her belly button turned inside out. It was the only time that her belly button was free of dirt and dust, she said. Now, she uses Q-tips and tweezers to clean the creases like the rest of us.

I can’t imagine my stomach being that big. And yet, the thought comforts me. I feel powerful. Just the idea of a baby growing inside of me makes my head spin. I want to feel a baby kick inside of me. Now, at this point in my life, there’s nothing I want more.

I sometimes wonder what I will tell my daughter when she asks me about her daddy. Do I tell her the truth? That he was just a number on a sheet of paper that I picked because he was smart and good looking? That I shopped for her like I would a designer dress? It feels so wrong in so many ways, but I don’t exactly have a choice. I’m cognizant that time is my enemy and the longer I wait, the more difficult it will be.        

It’s weird when I think about something how it seems to turn up everywhere. Like now that I’ve decided to have a baby, I see babies everywhere. I page through a magazine and see babies in stories and in ads. Or I flip through the TV channels and see a diaper commercial. It could be that it’s just top of mind, but it’s weird how that happens.

I thought about adopting, but I wanted the birth experience. I wanted to feel my stomach tickle when the baby moved for the first time. I wanted to hear her scream when she was born.  I wanted it all.

When Mike and I were together, we talked about having kids and what we would name them. He loved the name Jack. I loved the name Daisy. It was my great-grandmother’s name, and I always wanted to have a girl and name her Daisy.

When I got back from lunch the next day, there was a vase of daisies on my desk. I knew exactly who had sent them. I opened the card.

You’re going to be a wonderful mother. Thinking of you, Sue and Chloe

I called Sue to thank her for the flowers.

“So I think I settled on the semen."

Sue laughed. “Do you know how funny that sounds?”

“OK then, the donor. He’s tall and thin, strawberry blonde hair, like me, and smart. No. 424.”

"He's got a number?"

"Yeah. No name. Just a number."

 “And the sperm's been tested and all that?” Sue asked.

“Yes. I mean he’s been tested for all kinds of crap. But I’m sure the sperm's good or they wouldn’t use it. Those little suckers have to be good swimmers.”

“But not as good as if you were having regular sex, right?” Sue asked.

“True. They don't have as far to swim. The doctor will give them a good lead. But still, I don’t think they use sub-par sperm. They want performers who have proven results.”

“Omigod! I just thought of something. They won’t get it mixed up, will they? Like give you a short, fat, bald man’s?”

I laughed. “No.”  

“Good.”

“Leave it up to you to worry about my sperm.”

“Hey, I’m just looking out for you. Besides, you deserve good sperm. You've waited a long time.”

I smiled.

“So when’s the big sperm day anyway?” 

“I’ll probably start trying in a couple of months. After the reunion.”

“So you’re coming. You’re really coming this time?”

Sue sounded as excited as a child who finds an extra prize in a box of Cracker Jacks.

“Yeah, I’ll come home and go. But you have to go with me.”

“Absolutely,” Sue said. “It’ll be like old times. Can’t wait.”

“What are you planning to wear?” I asked.

“The invitation says casual, so I’ll probably wear slacks. It also said to bring mementos for the display table. I found my cheerleading jacket. It smells like mothballs. Mom had it in an old chest in the attic.  And I also have the program from our senior class play and our homecoming court picture. If you have any stuff like that, bring it.”

“The only thing I have is my yearbook.”

“You don’t have any photos of you and Mike or the squad?”

“Not anymore. But I’ll ask Mom. Maybe she kept some.”

When I got off the phone with Sue, I dug back into the criminal case I was working on. It dealt with a co-ed who claimed she had been raped repeatedly in various positions by two guys she met at a party.  They, of course, claimed it was consensual. 

The more I studied the case, the angrier I got. The guys took her to their dorm room and one blocked the door while the other one raped her. Then they swapped. I was going to go after these bastards. Someone had to stand up for those who couldn’t, and I had decided a long time ago that it was going to be me.

Every time I prosecuted a case with a young girl, it brought back memories of that night. I had worked through all my demons, but sometimes, in the quiet of the night, they’d return just to show me they could. They’d taunt me and remind me that they had won.

I didn’t speak up like the young girl in this case. I wasn’t smart like she was; I didn’t go to the hospital and get a rape exam. I allowed my voice to be silenced by a threat I was too young and naïve to believe.  

For a long time, I wanted to confront Smith. I daydreamed about it. Usually I imagined that I’d show up in a public place where he was and confront him. I’d embarrass him in front of everyone. Then I’d watch him get smaller and smaller and smaller until he was no bigger than an ant and unable to hurt anyone. The ant-size Smith would scramble along the sidewalk trying to escape being smashed by my high heels. He’d make it into the grass and think he was safe among the sharp blades. But he wasn’t.

I love running in bare feet through the grass.

****

Mike

I picked up Jack to take him to school on my way to work.

Jack crawled into the front seat and stashed his backpack between his legs.

“You look sleepy,” I said.

He yawned. “You try sleeping with a baby in the next room. Paige is a pain. I don’t know why Mom wanted another kid anyhow.”

I smiled. “Ah come on, Jack. You were a baby once.”

“Yeah, and Mom says I didn’t cry like Paige does.”

“You were a pretty good baby as I recall,” I said. “Except the time you peed in my mouth.”

Jack scrunched his freckled nose. “Eww! That’s seriously gross, Dad.”

“Tell me about it. I was changing your diaper, and as soon as I took off the soiled one, you let loose all over me. My mouth was open. Yeah, it was pretty gross.”

Jack laughed. “What it taste like?”

I laughed. “That I don’t remember, but it definitely didn’t taste like anything I wanted to taste ever again. After that, I didn’t take any chances. I threw a towel over you until I got the new diaper on.”

“Did you ever want another kid?” Jack asked.

I pulled into the school. “Never really thought about it. I have you and you’re enough to handle.”

Jack opened the door and jumped out. He threw his black and red backpack over his left shoulder.  “Bye, Dad.”

I watched as he walked toward the entrance and disappeared through the glass doors. My boy was growing up so fast. Too fast.

I blinked back tears. Jack was so much like me that it scared me sometimes. Not that I was a bad kid, but I always had to learn everything the hard way. Just like Jack. I remember when he was around four, I told him not to touch the fireplace door because it was hot. Next thing I knew, he had touched the door. I thought Lisa was going to kill me when I dropped him off with both hands wrapped in bandages. But that’s how Jack is. He always has to learn everything on his own. And I know how dangerous that can be. 

As I pulled away from the curb, I glanced back at the school entrance. Truth was I had lied to Jack. I would have loved to have had more kids. I planned on it. But life had some different ideas.

****

“Large coffee, room for cream,” I told the barista. I tilted the stainless steel carafe and poured half and half into my coffee.  I heard a high-pitched voice and it sounded familiar. I turned around. It was Lynn Reynolds. I hadn’t seen her since high school. First Cookie, now Lynn.