5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Emily
M y house has never been so clean. One of the things you never realize about having a child until it’s happened to you is how they leave tiny tornadoes of things around the house—garbage, toys, dishes, crafts. The cleanup is never ending until they’re out of the house and you miss it—all of it.
Despite what I told Trent, the holiday season is typically slower in real estate too.
I could have gone somewhere, but with Lila in a funk, Maggie connected at the hip to Grady, and most of my other friends married or coupled up, my best option would have been to venture off alone.
Given the mood I’ve been in lately, that holds zero appeal.
But so does sitting in my house on my own.
“Where does this go?” I ask Maggie, popping out of her backroom at the pharmacy.
“Are you sure Tyler wouldn’t appreciate the organizational help at his store?” Maggie asks from where she’s filling prescriptions at the high counter.
“He needs it,” I agree, “but he and Mia asked for privacy. I can’t show up there and ask for the keys.”
“You could,” Maggie says. “I’m sure he’d love it.”
Except, I don’t actually want to be alone.
At Tyler’s store, it would be just me and my thoughts as I rearranged clothing racks and put new product out.
Like most of us in the family, he has specific expectations around his business.
He has a structure about how things are priced that I’ve never bothered to learn.
Whereas here, I can stock Maggie’s shelves at the back—it’s mostly pairing like with like.
Things that expire sooner up front. Easy.
“What about this?” I ask, holding up some sort of asthma apparatus.
“All right,” Maggie says, scribbling something on a notepad and then turning to me in obvious exasperation. “What is going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been here for three days.”
“I know.”
“Is it because Amir is with his grandparents? Can’t you go stage a house?”
“That’s all done,” I say with a shrug. “I don’t even have a listing to help declutter right now.”
“I don’t need you decluttering here either,” Maggie says, sweeping her hand around the store.
“I actually hire people to check expiry dates and stock shelves and all the things you’re doing.
” She scans me from head to toe and then narrows her eyes.
“Why don’t you schedule some dates on that app you’re using? Get out. Meet some people.”
“No,” I say with a shake of my head. “I think I’m done with all that.”
“Mom will be all over you.”
“I’m aware,” I say with a huff. “But I hate it. I hate everything about it. All I do is have terrible conversations, get very drunk, and call Trent for rescue. Rinse. Repeat.”
“He is good at rescuing. Rescued me a time or two,” Maggie says, and I can tell she wants to say something else.
“That’s all it is.”
“Have you just been dating to make Mom happy then? I thought maybe you’d turned a corner?” Maggie leans back against the counter and crosses her arms.
“There are no corners,” I say. “It’s just a long road of grief. The terrain isn’t so rough anymore—at least not with Omar’s loss—but I’ve got no desire to detour anywhere else or set a course for a new romantic relationship. I don’t think I want that.”
“So were you just dating to make Mom happy?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe.” I take a deep breath. “But I also think I want more kids, and that’s impossible without a partner.”
“Not impossible,” Maggie scoffs. “There’s adoption.
Better yet, sperm banks exist. Just get some donor sperm.
My friend Gwen, you know the really flighty one from Michigan?
Her sister used a donor and had a little boy.
I think her sister lives in England now.
But you could totally do it on your own, if that’s what you want. ”
“Oh,” I say, breathing out the word. For whatever reason, it’s a solution that hadn’t occurred to me. “I guess I could, couldn’t I?”
“If you really don’t see yourself meeting another man, wanting another partner, but you know you want another kid, then yes, of course you can. Your life is already set up as a single parent. And obviously, we’d all help in whatever way we could.”
Maggie must see the hope and indecision written on my face because she says, “Come look.” She does a search on her computer, and up pops databases for browsing donors.
“You’d want a fertility clinic to figure out what type of treatment you’d need with the donor sperm, and I don’t know how much, if anything, your insurance will cover, but it’s definitely doable.
” She turns a little toward me. “You still have the money Mom gave us from Dad’s life insurance? This might be a good way to spend it.”
I did have that money. Tyler had used his for his store, and I think to pay his staff while he went on tour with Mia. Maggie had used hers to expand the pharmacy, and mine had sat in the bank, neglected, not even invested. As though I set it there, hoping Dad would come back to claim it.
I watch as she clicks a few buttons and has one of the databases up to search. She makes some selections on the filters, and then a list appears. With her finger on the mouse, she scrolls down. “Lots of choices.”
“Yeah, that’s…” My mind is a bit boggled by the sudden possibility, and for the first time in months, hope is stirring in my chest. A baby .
“You know, this seems like something you’d probably like to do in the privacy of your own home,” Maggie says when I try to co-opt the mouse.
“Right,” I say with a little laugh. “You’re probably right.”
Already, I’m thinking about spreadsheets, pros and cons lists, genetics, and about a million other variables that I’ll need to investigate.
Indecision strikes when I back away from the computer. “Do you really think this is a good idea, though? I wouldn’t know the person.”
“You’d know all the important bits—genetic information like height, eye and hair color, diseases, and so forth. You’ll know more medical information about this anonymous person than you ever would about some guy you met on a dating app.”
“I guess that’s true…” I say, but inside there’s still some sort of barrier to the idea that I can’t name. “I wouldn’t have to worry, like I do with Amir.”
Maggie stares at me for a beat, as though she’s mentally preparing herself. “Have you decided whether you’ll get him tested?”
“No,” I admit. “On the one hand, it could be a tremendous relief. On the other, every time I look at him, I might see what’s to come.
Watching what happened to Omar...I’ve never felt so helpless.
” There are no words to articulate his physical collapse, to explain what it felt like to know he understood what was happening, even when communication became impossible.
Awful. It was awful, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, let alone two of the most important people in my life.
“Do you want one of us to get the testing done? Check the results?”
“I don’t know if that would be any better,” I say. “I think I need to do it, but I just can’t quite bring myself to do it yet.”
“Whatever the outcome, you know we’re all here for you. We’ll be there for Amir, too.” Maggie draws me into a hug, and I squeeze her tight.
Over her shoulder, I see the screen of donor information, and I vow that I’ll at least investigate it. If I was willing to go on all these awkward dates in a bid to get what I think my heart really desires, I’d be silly not to look into this too.
“And if you pick a donor,” Maggie says, a smile in her voice, “I want the details.”
“Once I’ve made a decision,” I say, “you’ll be the first person I call.”