“A little,” I say. “Mostly just about logistics.”
She murmurs her agreement, then asks if I will still live with Gabe or move into my own place.
I frown and tell her I haven’t figured that out yet, as I hear Meredith’s voice again, mumbling that this is par for the course.
“Gabe knows your overall plan, though? That you want to have a baby?”
I nod and say of course, Gabe knows everything.
“And?” she asks. “What does he think?”
“He’s supportive….Unlike my sister, who is her usual judgmental self.” I pause, then say, “But he’s not really down with the idea of Pete as my donor.”
Sydney raises her eyebrows. “That’s ’cause he’s jealous.”
“Stop it right there,” I say, knowing exactly what she’s getting at. “How many times do I have to tell you men and women can be friends?”
She smirks. “Yeah. That’s what Harry and Sally said.”
“I’m not Sally,” I say.
“Maybe not. But he’s definitely Harry,” she says.
“No, he’s not, Syd….Didn’t I tell you about his new girlfriend?”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“I’m serious….He really likes her.”
“Yeah. But only because he can’t have you.”
I shake my head. “No. His objection to Pete is purely a practical one. He thinks I should use an anonymous donor rather than someone I know. He’s worried that it would get too…weird. Messy.”
“And you say…?”
“I say I’ll take that chance. Pete’s smart, attractive, and really sweet. It just feels…right.”
“Oh, reeally, now?” she says, her voice dripping with innuendo of the sexual kind.
“The right donor,” I say. “I have no interest in dating him, either.”
“Well, then,” she says, sitting up straighter. “Introduce us.”
I laugh and say not a chance.
“Why not? He could be my soul mate. You’d deprive me of that?”
“Yes. Because that would be too weird,” I say, feeling oddly possessive, if not of Pete, then at least of his sperm.
—
THAT EVENING, I find Gabe out back, grilling three hot dogs while listening to Bob Marley.
“Hey,” I say, leaning against the deck.
“What’s up?” he says, without looking my way.
“Is Leslie coming for dinner?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. And she’s a vegetarian. Remember?”
“Oh, right. How could I forget?” I say, only a little snidely.
He either misses or ignores my tone, and asks if I’m hungry. “I threw an extra dog on just in case.”
“Sure. Thanks,” I say, then ask about his day. Gabe’s worked for the same company for nearly a decade, but I’m still not exactly sure what he does for a living—other than that it involves graphic design, computers, and a lot of high-maintenance clients.
“Everyone and everything annoyed me.”
I laugh and say, “So, the usual?”
“Pretty much. How about yours?”
“It was okay,” I say. “I told Sydney about my baby plan. And my appointment with Dr. Lazarus on Friday.”
He nods without looking at me. “So what exactly is going to happen on Friday?”
I shrug and say I’m not sure. “It’ll probably just be an introduction and a discussion of my options.”
“Is Pete going with you?” Gabe asks as he turns down the flame on the grill.
“No,” I say, though the thought did cross my mind earlier today.
“Why not?” he asks. “Have you changed your mind about…using him?”
“No,” I say. “He’s still kind of at the top of my list. But there’s no need for him to go with me…not at this point….I was thinking of asking my mom. It’d be nice to have someone there. You know—for moral support.” I give him a needy look, then add, “Hint, hint.”
Gabe rolls his eyes and says, “You want me to go?”
I put my hands together in prayer. “Would you? Please?”
“I guess,” he says with a big sigh.
“You think Leslie’ll be okay with it?”
“Why wouldn’t she?” he asks.
Because she’s controlling and clearly doesn’t like me, I almost say, but decide to treat it as a rhetorical question. “That’d be really awesome, Gabe,” I say. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” he says with a nonchalant shrug. “Besides. I want to be there to hear this doctor tell you that acquaintance sperm is a really shitty idea.”
“Acquaintance sperm?” I laugh. “Is that a scientific term?”
“Yes…I mean…this Pete guy seems nice and all…but he could be a serial killer with…a recessive cystic fibrosis gene, for all you know.”
I laugh.
“Well, he could be,” Gabe says, transferring the hot dogs to a plate, then turning to walk inside.
“I’m sure Dr. Lazarus will do thorough testing,” I say, following him into the house.
“The ol’ serial killer test?” he says, glancing over his shoulder.
“Well, any sperm donor could be a serial killer,” I say. “So could any boyfriend, for that matter. Hell, for all you know, Leslie could be one….”