Ironically, we have to sign a contract. That the information Clive received will not be released by the plaintiff or the church, or be discussed with any party in the future. Pastor Clive signs a stipulation that Wade Preston writes on a piece of lined paper. The judge scans it and pronounces me the sole custodian of the three frozen embryos.
By now, there is nobody left in the gallery. They’re all outside, waiting for me to appear on the steps and give them a big smile and thank God for the outcome of this trial.
“Well,” Wade says, grinning. “I do believe my work here is done.”
“So they’re mine now? One hundred percent legally mine?” I ask.
“That’s right,” Wade agrees. “You can do anything you want with them.”
Zoe is still sitting at the defense table. She is the center of a flower, surrounded by her mother, her lawyer, and Vanessa. Angela hands her another tissue. “You know how many of Max’s lawyers it takes to plaster a wall?” she says, trying to cheer Zoe up. “Depends on how hard you throw them.”
I wish I could have done it some other way, but I didn’t know how. Wade would have had something up his sleeve. The truth is, this was never what I had intended. Somewhere along the way, this became about politics, and religion, and law. Somewhere along the way, it stopped being about people. About Zoe, and me, and these children we once wanted to have.
I walk toward my ex-wife. Her entourage parts, so that I find myself standing in front of her. “Zoe,” I begin. “I’m sorry—”
She looks at me. “Thanks for saying that.”
“You didn’t let me finish. I’m sorry that you had to go through all this.”
Vanessa moves closer to Zoe.
“They’ll have a good life,” Zoe says, but it sounds like a question. “You’ll make sure of that?” She is crying, now. Shaking with the effort of holding herself together.
I’d take her into my arms, but that’s someone else’s privilege now. “The best,” I promise, and I hand her the legal document Wade Preston just gave me. “Which is why I’m giving them to you.”
Sammy’s Song (3:48)
SAMANTHA
Even at age six, there are many things Sammy knows for sure:
That peanut butter makes her dog, Ollie, look like he’s talking real words to her.
That at night her stuffed animals come to life, or how else would they move around her bed while she’s sleeping?
That inside Mommy Zoe’s arms is the place in the world where she feels the most safe.
That when she was riding on Mama Ness’s shoulders once sheactuallytouched the sun, and she knows for sure because she got a blister on her thumb.
That she hates hates hates getting shots at the doctor’s office and the smell of gasoline and the taste of sausages.
That whoever invented glitter was justaskingfor a mess.
That she can write her whole name. Even the long version.
That Annie Yu is her best friend in the whole world.
That storks don’treallybring babies. But to be honest, she doesn’t really believe Annie Yu’s description of what actually happens, either.
That bologna sandwiches are better with the crusts off.
That the best day of the year is the first time it snows every winter.
That her daddy wrapped branches from two different rosebushes together, and this summer, when the flowers come, they will look different from any other rose ever seen in the world, and he’s going to name it after her.
That when he marries Liddy, she will get to be the flower girl. (Liddy promised her this when they made a fort last weekend under the kitchen table with blankets. Even though, she said, Sammy’s father hadn’t asked her yet and what on earth was he waiting for.)
That it is not a good idea to put marshmallow Peeps in the microwave.
