“That’s the dream.”
“Yes, but neither of us has had any luck with that one so far.”
“I’m still hoping,” I said.
“Yeah, well, my doctor says I’m running out of time. And if you keep all your eggs in Tom’s basket, you will be, too.”
“Hey, thanks a lot!”
“I’m just being honest here.” That was one thing about Brooke; you could always count on her to tell you exactly what she thought. “Number two: a woman has a relationship with a man, conceives a child, and may or may not get married.”
“Wow. Very iffy and complicated. Also unethical if it’s deliberate on the woman’s part without the man’s knowledge.”
“I agree, so let’s move on. Number three: a woman consumes massive amounts of tequila with a viable male stranger—preferably one she’ll never see again, maybe in a foreign city or at an airport bar—and things just happen.”
“That’s absolutely terrifying!”
“I know, right?”
“So what’s the last one?”
“Number four: a woman uses a sperm donor.”
I gave a derisive snort. “Yeah, right.”
“Hey—I’m completely serious about this.” I could tell from the change in her tone that she was. “I haven’t met anyone for the marriage route, so I’m going with number four.”
“Did you talk to Miss Margaret about this?” I asked. “What did she say?”
“She’s not a fan of the idea,” Brooke admitted. “She said a child needs two parents. And I agree, that’s the ideal scenario, but I’m in a less-than-ideal situation. I’d rather have a child on my own than never have one at all. If it’s going to happen, I have to make it happen.”
I’d been a little shocked. I’d never known anyone who just up and decided to have a baby on her own, but then, I’d never known anyone as self-directed as Brooke. With her typical hyperefficiency, Brooke set a plan into action.
Her doctor advised that she reduce the amount of stress in her life, so she left her high-pressured, near-constant-travel position in New York and took a less demanding job in New Orleans. She found a local organization of people who were contemplating single parenthood, were in the process of trying to conceive, or had already borne or adopted a child on their own. She attended a meeting, and was soon a regular at their monthly gatherings. The members gave her lots of advice, and she signed up with a highly recommended local cryobank. She pored over data about sperm donors and read reams of profiles.
“We went about dating in college all wrong. These men are fantastic!” she’d told me in another phone call. “We should have been hanging out at cryobanks instead of bars and sports events.”
All of the men were tall—this cryobank didn’t accept applicants under six feet, because, apparently, height was in demand—and they were all either college students or college graduates at the time of their donations. They were exceedingly healthy; they’d undergone blood, genetic, and personality testing. They’d written personal statements, submitted photos of themselves as children, and recorded audio interviews so we could hear their voices. There wereno photos of the donors as adults in order to preserve their anonymity, but the cryobank staff had evaluated each one, compiled facial profiles, and given their overall impressions of each man. Brooke had insisted on seeing every donor, including those in the older “archived” files.
After weeks of study, Brooke had whittled down the field to one donor. “He’s brilliant, good-looking, compassionate, kind, and he has a great sense of humor. But there’s one thing that makes him absolutely irresistible.”
“What’s that?” I’d asked.
“He does yo-yo tricks!”
Wow, you think you know somebody. “You consider yo-yo tricks irresistible?” I’d asked incredulously.
“Absolutely,” Brooke had replied. “My father did yo-yo tricks.”
Brooke had adored her father, so that was that. She took fertility drugs, which, with her endometriosis, caused her excruciating pain—but the doctors were able to extract a few eggs. Only one was successfully fertilized, but one was all it took.
Nine months later, Lily was born—beautiful, wonderful Lily.
—
ZACK’S EYEBROWS RISEas I finish relating all this. “So Brooke picked me because I do yo-yo tricks?”
“That was a key factor, yeah.” There were other things about him that played into her decision—not to mention mine. She’d shown me his profile when she first chose him, and then again when she’d offered me the remaining sperm.
