One Last Lie (7 page)

He clenched his fingers into a fist when he realized this was the same sort of feeling he’d had the night Angela invaded their lives. Although the meal was uneventful and Angela seemed likeable enough, the hair on the back of his neck wouldn’t lie flat from the moment he met her. His instincts told him something was up, but he didn’t put his finger on it until the three of them were sitting at the dining room table enjoying their last drink of the evening. He smiled into the darkness, remembering the way he and Philip had playfully kicked one another under the table. He inhaled deeply, wracked with the pain of missing Philip’s touch.

“As you know,” Angela announced, “We’re the same age, Philip and I. Which means I’m approaching my forties.”

The moment she uttered the words, Jonathan knew where this was going, but he held himself back, biting his lip to make sure no words escaped. He leaned his elbow onto the dining room table and moved forward so he he’d have a better view of her and also be able to see Philip’s reaction.

She rubbed her index finger along the condensation on her glass, fidgeting in her chair while sneaking peeks at both of them. Why wouldn’t she just spit it out already?

“I want to have a child,” she blurted out. “It’s all I’ve ever really wanted, and now I’m finally ready to do it.” She glanced at Philip, to Jonathan, and back to her glass. “I have no significant other in my life and the way things look, I may never find one. When I thought back to all the men I’ve known in my life, there’s only one who stands out.” She pointed to Philip. “Intelligent, logical, fun, social and of course, extremely handsome. You have every characteristic I’d like to pass on to my child.”

She took a small sip of her G&T and placed it on the table. It seemed to give her the courage she needed to offer eye contact. After a few more seconds of silence, she continued. “And then of course, I remembered how back in college you donated sperm to people you didn’t even know. I know that was for extra cash. But I thought this time you’d want to donate it to someone you
know
. Someone who would provide the love and…”

She stopped talking when she saw Philip’s eyes well up. Jonathan rubbed the back of Philip’s neck with one hand and held onto his arm with the other.

“What is it? Why are you getting so upset? If the answer is no, I’ll totally understand, I just thought...”

“I’m sterile.” Philip choked on his words. “Testicular cancer. Five years ago. I can’t have children.” He looked at Jonathan. “Ever.”

About to lay into her for showing up out of nowhere after fifteen years and asking for sperm like it was a $10 donation for Save the Children, Jonathan cut himself off when the tears fell down Angela’s face. She appeared sincerely distraught, although he wasn’t sure whether it was for Philip or herself. Did her only hope of sperm donation suddenly crash and burn? Would she have to go back to her list of potential daddies and settle for second best? Or did she actually feel sorry for Philip? Watching the mascara smear down her face, Jonathan knew this wasn’t the time to challenge her.

Angela took Philip’s hands, still crying.

“I am so, sorry, Philip. I had no idea you’d gone through such a thing.” She glanced at Jonathan, her sorrowful expression soothing his anger. “And I’m sorry to you also, Jonathan.” She struggled for words, grabbing a tissue from purse. “I feel like such an idiot… and feel so bad… and don’t know what to say.”

“Shhh,” Philip touched her head and let his fingers tread down her braid. “No worries, Angie. It’s alright.”

She blew her nose into the tissue and sniffed. “And how are you now? Are you okay?”

Rubbing Philip’s back, Jonathan cut in. “A-ok. He’s one hundred percent healthy and cancer-free for five years.”

“Thank God,” she whispered, stuffing the tissue back into her purse. “I wish I’d known. I work with some top-notch oncologists. Who was your physician?”

“Jacobs at Sloan,” Jonathan answered.

“One of the best,” she said. “That’s good. I have some friends at Sloan Kettering if you ever need anything. And I mean
anything
.”

Philip glanced at Angela and chuckled. “Don’t suppose there’s any of my little guys,
healthy
little guys, still hanging out at the sperm bank?”

Jonathan gently slapped his back. “That’s too weird, Philip. And I think there’s something illegal about that?” He asked, glancing at Angela for a response.

“Probably,” she agreed. “Now let’s get off of this topic. I already feel bad enough.”

Five minutes before, Jonathan was ready to pull Angela to the front door by her hair. But now, he’d opened up a bit and sensed her sincerity. The hair on the back of his neck settled a little and he could feel himself breathing deeper.

Jonathan drummed his fingers on the table and stood up. “Well, I have an article due tomorrow morning by eleven. So I’m going to hit the computer.”

“And I have to get going,” Angela responded, leaping from her chair. “It’s getting late. Can you call me a cab?”

“Cab my ass,” Philip said, “I’m driving you to the station. Let’s check the train schedule, and if we have time I’ll show you some of Westport.”

Angela walked over to Jonathan, caressed his face and, wrapped her arms around him. Hugging him tightly, almost squeezing, she whispered in his ear. “Thank you for tonight and for taking care of him.”

Jonathan hugged her back and kissed her on the cheek. “You’re welcome for both.” He looked at Philip, then back to Angela. “I don’t say this very often, but I like you and would love for you to come visit again.”

“He’s right. He never says that. So you must be special,” Philip said.

She squeezed him again. “I definitely will,” she said.

Three minutes later, Jonathan watched from his office as the Beemer’s headlights backed out of the driveway and lit up the street. Seconds later, they were gone.

*

More than two hours passed before the headlights swung into the driveway. Jonathan waited to hear the car door shut before sauntering to the front door. He leaned against the wall, waiting for it to open. When it finally did, he didn’t say a word.

“Hey, babe,” Philip said, closing the door behind him. When he saw Jonathan’s expression, he stopped. “I know, I took a long time. But we did some more catching up, I showed her downtown, we had to wait for the next train, blah, blah, blah.”

“I figured,” Jonathan said, scolding himself for worrying. “That’s why I didn’t call your cell. I didn’t want to be like my grandmother used to be.” He kissed Philip’s cheek and started walking back to his office.

“Are you kidding me? You are your grandmother!” Philip smacked Jonathan’s ass and followed him down the hallway.

“Ha. Well if it wasn’t for my grandmother, I wouldn’t be here now, would I?” said Jonathan, falling into his desk chair.

“No, you wouldn’t, and I say a prayer to her in heaven every single day for having a grandson like you.” Philip laughed and plopped down on the suede love seat, facing Jonathan. He was silent, just staring at Jonathan as though waiting for a response. But there wasn’t one. Jonathan continued typing. “And speaking of sons,” Philip started.

Jonathan clicked “save” and spun his chair around. “Yes, go ahead. Get whatever it is off your mind.” He crossed his arms. “I’m waiting. Speaking of sons…”

“Speaking of sons,” Philip started again, “Remember when we used to talk about having one. You and I? And then the whole cancer thing happened?”

Jonathan nodded.

“I know we always spoke about using my sperm, since you didn’t want another Jonathan Beckett running around the planet. But I’m thinking you were just kidding about that, right?”

Jonathan leaned forward and gestured for Philip to continue.

“Well, I for one would love to have another Jonathan running around this planet. I’d love to play with him, help him grow up, take him to art shows, get him really cool presents, and love him as much as I love you.”

“Sounds like your drive to the train station involved a lot more than just catching up on old times. Did she actually have the nerve to ask if
I
would be the one to donate?”

Philip raised his hand. “Stop. No. It was me. I brought it up.”

“Why? What would make you think…” Jonathan rubbed his head with both hands, as though trying to unscramble the words floating inside his brain. “We wanted your baby, not mine. I’m a mess, you know that. Why would we want to bring another neurotic, OCD kid into the world? And with Angela for God’s sake. We don’t even really know her. I don’t get it.”

Philip walked to Jonathan and fell to his knees. He looked up at Jonathan, his face holding a sympathetic smile. “First of all, you don’t
have OCD. You just like things clean. And you’re not neurotic — you just worry a little more than most people.” He rubbed Jonathan’s legs. “I don’t know why you always make yourself sound crazy. Unless it’s some kind of excuse.”

“An excuse for what? Why would I want to think I’m crazy?”

Philip kept his eyes on Jonathan’s. “If you think you’re crazy, then you never have to do anything that really means something.”

Jonathan shivered as though tiny spiders were crawling up his arms and legs. He tensed, unsure how to respond or even if he could. Philip’s words hit a nerve and his reaction was more paralysis than anger.

“Think about it,” Philip continued, “Whenever you talk about writing a novel, you say you can’t because then the world would know how crazy you are. Or when we discuss the kinds of articles you write, you say you like to keep them light and generic so readers won’t sense your neuroses. Honestly, I think that’s bullshit. You’re playing it way too safe. It holds you back in lots of ways, and that hurts me because I think you’re squelching your potential.”

Jonathan found the strength to move and rolled his chair back, away from Philip.

“And what does this have to do with giving sperm to a total stranger?”

“First of all, she’s
not
a total stranger. And second, it’s the fact that you keep saying you wouldn’t want to have a child because he, or she, would be neurotic and obsessive. You are neither. I think it’s just another way of you holding yourself back.”

Forcing himself to breathe, Jonathan stood and walked to the window. The lights lining the driveway lit up the hydrangeas from beneath, an explosion of blossoms illuminated from the inside out. A chipmunk scurried from one side of the path to the other, its tiny shadow following at first, then leading the way as it disappeared into the tall grass.

“And what does Angela think about the whole thing?”

Philip, now sitting on the floor, leaned back and used his arms as support.

“If you hadn’t noticed, she thinks you’re wonderful. And when I brought up the idea to her, she started to cry.”

“Why? Because she has to settle for second best?”

“Don’t do that, Jonny. It’s not fair, to her or you.”

Jonathan turned around and leaned against the chair rail. “I’m not agreeing to anything, but let’s think about this logically for a minute. A girl you haven’t seen in fifteen years shows up and asks you for sperm. A girl, by the way, who kind of went bonkers when you told her you were gay. And the two of you really haven’t spoken since then. And now, because she’s getting older and you’re sterile, you want
me
to give her
my
sperm.” Jonathan sat down on the floor in front of Philip so their knees touched. “Now, placing all that weirdness aside for a second, have you considered any of the legal ramifications?”

Philip drew circles with his finger on Jonathan’s knee.

“Jonny, I haven’t considered anything yet, other than bringing it up to you. First things first, ya know? And the first thing is to decide whether or not this makes any kind of sense. If it does, we talk more about it. Then, if it still does, we talk to G. She knows the law inside and out. And if she doesn’t know the nitty gritty about sperm donation, she’ll recommend someone who does. But first, it’s you and I who have to decide if there’s something here we want to get involved with.” He brushed the wisps of hair falling in front of Jonathan’s eyes. “No decisions have been made. Only points of discussion. Okay?”

“Okay.” Jonathan pulled Philip’s hand to his mouth and kissed the soft, padded skin of his palm, right below his thumb. “Okay. Now if I can get my mind back into it, I have an article to finish.”

“S'il vous plaît continuer. Je suis désolé pour vous ennuyer,” said Philip walking to the door.

“You’re never bothering me. And cut the French crap. It reminds me of Luc.”

“Mi dispiace, mi amor.”

“Okay, now you’re just showing off. Go take a shower or something.”

Philip grabbed the door sash and swung around. “I vill be vaiting for vous, how you say, in zee bedwoom,” he ran out of the room and down the hall.

Jonathan shook his head and rolled his chair back to the computer. Scrolling up to the top of the article, he stared at the headline: Data Security Specialists: A Day in the Life.

“Holy shit, this
is
dull.”

Although it was just a whisper, inside his head it sounded like a scream.

*

Two days later, on a polished maple table surrounded by the faint smell of old paper emanating from the tomes of law books, Jonathan and Philip tapped their fingers in unison. The meeting room was elaborately decorated: mahogany built-ins held ancient books that seemed to breathe decades of jurisprudence, and the large window bordered with sepia festoons, held thick, wooden panes that split the glass into twelve small squares. All of it served to increase Jonathan’s feeling of claustrophobia.

“G’s done pretty good for herself, huh?” Philip traced his fingers along the spines of the law books.

Jonathan stood, walked to the window, and stared at the brilliant blue sky and enormous white clouds silently floating like huge cities of cotton. He grabbed the ridge attached to the bottom half of the casement window, lifted it up and inhaled deeply.