Chapter 19
A big ol’ but
Gage
As you can see from my test results, I still have a significant number of viable eggs, and if you flip to page four, you’ll find a summary of my general health as well as an overall score for my fertility.
The number isn’t from a medical source, but I was able to create a scoring range based on a number of data points,” she explained, clicking a pen and hovering it over a blank notebook page.
“Now, have you had a recent sperm count?”
Jill, my date, looked at me expectantly with intense brown eyes.
“Uh…” I wasn’t often at a loss, but thanks to recent circumstances, my ability to roll with the unexpected had been compromised.
I should have canceled. I should have stayed home, plotting out the best way to tell my sister I wouldn’t defend the woman who had killed a man who was like a brother to me.
I should have been drinking copious amounts of bourbon, not feigning interest on a first date.
“A sperm count?” I repeated.
It was a rainy Saturday afternoon. We were thirty minutes from Story Lake in a noisy farm-to-table bistro with—inexplicably—live accordion music. I was trying hard to concentrate on the woman across from me, but it was taking a Herculean effort, and I didn’t have the energy for Herculean.
On paper, Jill had seemed like an ideal candidate. Potential marriage material. Her texts were intelligent and witty, her spelling impeccable.
Jill was in her late thirties. She worked in insurance, had a master’s degree in actuarial science, and felt it was important that children grew up in homes with pets.
When we were scheduling our date, she told me she was slotting me in between a scheduled oil change and her monthly video chat with her grandparents in Utah.
Responsible and respectful of family, both key criteria for me in a partner.
However, either my criteria didn’t result in chemistry, or I was too distracted to put forth a decent effort.
She nodded briskly. “Your profile said you were ready to start a family, so I assume you’ve done the appropriate testing. What’s your blood type?”
We were five minutes into our first date and hadn’t even gotten our drinks yet. Yet my mind had wandered to my sister, Valerie, and Zoey a half dozen times already, and Jill wanted my sperm count and blood type.
I forced myself to do a mental inventory. Jill was a tall, attractive woman who looked as if she had her life together. More pluses in my column. She carried a briefcase instead of a purse, which on a Saturday meant either she valued functionality over fashion or she was a workaholic.
Her shoulder-length hair was swept back in a low, no-nonsense ponytail.
From my limited knowledge of cosmetics, she was wearing minimal makeup, or what my niece would call “no-makeup makeup.” She was dressed in business casual slacks and a thin sweater.
I hadn’t noticed them when I’d shaken her hand, but Jill had assured me her hips were “ideal for childbearing.”
“A positive,” I said, relieved to have at least one answer to her questions.
“Do you have a specific religious faith that you feel strongly about raising your children in?” she asked, continuing down her actual checklist.
“Is there a Church of No Assholes?” I joked.
Jill put her pen down and interlaced her fingers on top of her leather-bound portfolio.
“Gage, it’s important that I’m clear with you from the beginning.
While I usually appreciate a sense of humor, especially on a date, I’m thirty-eight.
I have an incredibly rewarding job. I exercise four times a week.
I’m closing on a four-bedroom house in a great school district in two weeks.
I have a group of interesting, supportive friends.
My parents are still married and in great health.
I have a 401(k), a robust portfolio, and a vacation property in Asheville, North Carolina. ”
“That’s, uh, wow.”
“I know what I want, and I explore all the possibilities in getting what I want. Right now, I want a family. So while I’m going on dates with men who say they’re ready for commitment, I’ve also submitted paperwork to begin my journey as a foster parent and am exploring other options, including but not limited to IVF. ”
I nodded, still not having anything worthwhile to contribute to this conversation.
She opened her arms. “This is me. I don’t enjoy coming on so strong, but I’m excited about this next step in my life. The timing is right, and I’ve found it’s best to weed out the inappropriate candidates as quickly as possible.”
“I understand and appreciate your candor,” I assured her.
She picked up her pen again. “Great. Think of this as a preliminary interview. What I need to know from you is are you actually interested in starting a family, and if so, in your limited experience with me, do you think we would make successful co-parents?”
Our drinks arrived, a club soda with lime for Jill and a draft beer for me. I grabbed mine like a lifeline. My mouth was dry, and I was starting to sweat. I took a fortifying swallow, then returned the glass to the table.
“Jill, while I appreciate your efficiency, I’m not quite there yet. I’d need a few more dates. Then I’d want to introduce you to my family before I could answer that with any sense of accuracy.”
She made a notation. “Mm-hmm. And is your immediate family important to you?”
I thought of Laura’s demand. Of Valerie’s tearstained face.
“Unfortunately, it’s the most important thing to me.”
She flashed an approving smile as she took notes. “That’s lovely. I’m glad we have that in common. How’s next Thursday?”
I blinked. “For what?”
“To introduce me to your family.”
“Jill, you’ve been honest with me. I think I owe you the same.”
“Of course. You have the floor.” She looked at me expectantly as she sipped her club soda.
“If we had met a few weeks ago, this would be an entirely different conversation. I appreciate a woman with a plan. I admire someone who has built a life as successful as yours. You’re exactly the kind of person I was looking for to explore the next step.”
“I’m an actuary, so I’m great at predicting patterns. You’re about to say a big ol’ but.”
“Unfortunately, I am. I’m in the midst of some family turmoil that has not only divided my attention, it’s left me with some questions that I can’t seem to find the right answers to.”
“This turmoil doesn’t involve you already having a wife and children out there somewhere, does it?” Jill asked.
“No. Definitely not.”
She scratched through a line on her legal pad.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m having second thoughts about…” What? My plan? My goals? My life? “Where I’ve focused my attention.”
It was true. For the past twenty-four hours, my brain had continued turning over Valerie’s words.
“Everything that I’d thought was so important one minute earlier was now meaningless.
” She and my sister had both expressed twin regrets of prioritizing the wrong thing that day.
As someone who had lived my entire life dedicated to the next goal, it had gotten in my head.
“Hmm,” Jill said.
“I’m a lawyer, and something happened to my sister that was terrible, and then she asked me to do something I really don’t want to do.
It’s not illegal or anything. I’m not that kind of lawyer.
But my brother’s getting married, and the happier I see him get, the more I want that.
I want to share my life with someone. Someone who makes sense and fits the bill.
But there’s this woman who lives upstairs, and she’s all wrong for me.
And I can’t stop thinking about her, and I’m starting to worry that it means something. ”
Great. Not only was I word-vomiting all over an innocent bystander, my brain’s other obsession had entered the chat. I was going to go down in Jill’s history as the worst date ever. She closed her portfolio again and gave me a perfunctory smile.
I winced. “I’m sorry. I’m making a mess of this. I’m usually more coherent, less rambly. What I really want to say is you’re great. I’m a mess. I can’t in good conscience pursue co-parenting with you right now.”
“Say no more,” she said, sliding the portfolio and pen into her briefcase. “I appreciate you saving me the time. You would not believe how many guys on the apps pretend they’re open to a committed relationship and then on the first date offer to ‘put a baby’ in me.”
“I apologize for my gender. Some of us are still Neanderthals.”
The server returned and asked if we were ready to order.
I pointed to the menu. “I at least owe you lunch.”
Jill checked her watch. “Actually, I’d prefer to leave since it’s not going anywhere. I have another interviewee with some earlier availability, so I’ll just text him.”
“Ah. Yes. Well, good luck. I hope he’s the one.”
“Thanks. I hope so too,” she said, crossing her fingers. “That would put me a full month ahead of my timeline.”
“Jill, you seem like a focused, motivated person.”
“I am.”
“Do you ever feel like sticking to the plan makes you miss out on some of the fun of life?”
She stood and shouldered the strap of her briefcase. “I’ve found that my FONA is stronger than my FOMO.”
“FONA? I don’t think I’m familiar.”
“Fear of not accomplishing. The people who are wasting their time having fun might look like they’re enjoying themselves, but happiness can’t buy a financially secure retirement.”
I rose from the table with her. “This has been enlightening, Jill. Good luck on your journey.”
“I like to think of it more as an action plan. But thank you for the sentiment. Good luck with your…trauma.”
I watched her leave and sat back down with the menu.
“Bad first date?” the server guessed.
“For her. Can I get the salmon?”
I was halfway through my meal when my phone vibrated on the tabletop.
Laura: Here’s Valerie’s number again since you still haven’t called her.
Laura: In case that last text was too subtle. CALL HER!