I hold up another finger. “Second. I want the father to be…”—how to phrase this—“okay looking.”
Josh raises an eyebrow. I wave my hands at his face. “You know. Your nose is straight, your teeth are straight, and you have a nice chin.”
“A nice chin?”
“Yeah.”
I hold up a third finger before he can say anything more. “Third. I want the father to be athletic, to make up for my complete and utter lack of coordination.”
“You are pretty clumsy,” he agrees, referencing, I’m sure, the sauce all over me.
I shrug and take his agreement as a good sign.
“Four. I want to know the father comes from a healthy, robust family.” But, come to think of it, I don’t know that about him. “Does your family have any history of disease? Cancers, diabetes, heart disease, you know all those things they ask you on the family history form at the doctors.”
He lets out a disbelieving huff of air. “My grandpa had ulcers. And my mom’s brother had arthritis. My grandma had adult-onset diabetes.”
“Hmm. Okay. No, that’s alright. Every family has something.”
Josh raises his eyebrows. “So, that’s it? I met your qualifications. I’m your perfect sperm donor?”
“Exactly. I mean, I’ve known you all your life. I know you’re a good guy. You have really good genes.” He raises an eyebrow and I shrug. “You’re already like a member of the family. I’m not asking you to be a dad or anything. If you don’t want the baby to know you’re the father, that’s okay. If you do, then we can make an agreement where you have a weekend a month or…” I trail off at the look on his face.
“For crying out loud, Gemma. This sounds like a divorce without the benefit of the honeymoon sex.”
Oh. Wow. Okay.
I look down at the pink rag rug covering the wood floor.
Josh has never divorced, but I have. And now that he puts it that way, it does sound crazy/horrible asking him to be a sperm donor. There’s nothing, absolutely nothing in it for him. Not even honeymoon sex.
I take a moment to think his words over then look up. “Okay. No, you’re right. It was really stupid of me to ask. I just thought, you know, if I had to pick anyone to be a donor, I’d want to pick someone like you.”
I feel myself flush. It’s not like I’ve been pining after Josh freaking Lewenthal for twenty-four years. I’m indifferent to him. He’s always been around, sort of like that potted plant in the corner that you don’t notice until someone points it out. We don’t really talk or interact, he’s just there.
Suddenly I feel really bad. “Sorry. I didn’t think through how crazy this would seem to you. Why would you want to donate your sperm to anyone, right? It’s not like I could pay you more than a thousand dollars anyway.”
Josh chokes on another cough. “You were going to pay me?” he asks incredulously. Actually, he looks really offended.
I try to play it off. “It’s no big deal. The going rate is fifty dollars, but I figured you needed the money since you’re living with your dad again.”
I take a step back at the glower on his face.
“I’m not living with my dad. My apartment is under construction. It’s temporary.”
“Oh. That’s good. I’m glad you have a place in…”
He scowls at me. “In Williamsburg.”
I imagine the kind of place Josh would be able to afford on his web comic proceeds. It’s a crumbly brick warehouse with rusty pipes and drafty walls. I picture a mattress on the floor, a desk with an old computer and a flickering lightbulb with a pull chain.
“Sounds nice.”
“Is that all you wanted to ask me? The sperm thing?” He moves to the edge of the bed, like he’s ready to head downstairs.
“Yeah. Yeah that was all.”
He nods and stands up. My childhood bedroom, decked out in pink fabric, teen heartthrob posters, and white furniture, suddenly seems incredibly small. There’s only a foot between Josh and me. He’s a half a foot taller than I am and has wide shoulders. I check the urge to take a step back.
“Alright then.”
“So, it’s a no?” I ask. I feel incredibly, horribly, insanely stupid, but hey, like Ian says, success is ninety-nine percent perseverance.
“It’s a no.” Josh gives a firm, final nod. “I’m not some horse you can put out to stud. I’m kind of surprised, Gem. I never thought you viewed people like objects that you can use. I thought better of you. I’m a person, you know?”
Oh.
Ouch.
That hurt. And honestly, I’m mortified, so I lash out. “I didn’t think it’d be that big a deal to you. You already made a sperm donation once. I didn’t think it’d be a big thing for you to do it again.”
He looks at me and his eyes go dark with emotion. He shakes his head and my skin itches with embarrassment.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” he says.
And the way he says it reminds me of Greg Butkis, and how he said no to the idea of me as well. And it reminds me of Mort, and all the Mort-like guys before him.
“It’s alright,” I say. I put my chin up. “Sorry I bothered you.”
Josh lifts his hand, extends it to span the foot between us. His fingers hover an inch above my arm. I shiver at the heat coming off of him. Then, he shakes off whatever he’s thinking and pulls away.
“I won’t say anything to anyone. You don’t have to worry. You can tell your family when you’re ready.”
“Thank you.” Then to make myself feel better I say, “No worries, Josh. Each of us steers our own ship of destiny by following the stars in our heart.”
Josh’s shoulders stiffen, then he turns and walks out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.
5
All the party guests are gathered in the living room. It’s time for the official New Year’s resolution roundup.