The Mirror Apocalypse

by John Ayang

  “Though Dr. Eshiet was the youngest among us, he always seemed to be ahead of his years. He was always current with political news and very opinionated, very antagonistic toward the white man. He couldn’t get over the fact that his people were colonized, and he viewed apartheid in South Africa as the greatest evil of the twentieth century. Academically, he was very intelligent. He was so enamored of genetics that he nearly ditched obstetrics for genetic engineering. He, in fact, got me interested in genetics, too, and that’s how we ended up applying to do our internship at Norfolk, which was the university bold enough, at that time, to make forays into uncharted territories of human reproductive technology. The irony of it all was that, with all his vitriolic anger against the white man, Dr. Eshiet applied for and ended up with an internship mentored by the Joneses—Georgeanna and Howard Jones—a couple who had done extensive work on in vitro fertilization with a British scientist by the name of Robert Edwards in the late ‘60s. Though retired then, from Johns Hopkins, the Joneses were still enthusiastic about their work in reproductive technology and, in 1980, succeeded in opening an IVF clinic in the Eastern Virginia School of Medicine in Norfolk, resolutely spurred on, perhaps, by the proven success of their former co-researcher, Robert Edwards, who, in 1978, brought the first IVF-engineered baby, Louise Joy Brown, into the world. The media called her a ‘test tube’ baby then.

  “Telling you honestly, I still remember it as if it was yesterday,” Dr. Horacek smiled, as if ruminating to himself. “Reading about it in the London Times before we could get to the Journal of Reproductive Science, everyone went berserk at Berkeley. It was a collective achievement for the scientific world. In fact, I remember trying awkwardly to mimic Neil Armstrong: ‘one small test tube for Robert Edwards, one giant engineering feat for mankind’. For me and my fellow students, it was like the scientist could now replicate God’s work: create a human being. From that time on, we read up every publication on IVF. Edidiong became insatiably voracious. That is, of course, how he got wind of the Joneses’ earlier association with Robert Edwards. And what better couple to get as mentors. He did not waste time writing to them, and he got me—in fact, forced me—to go along with his plan. It was like a dream come true when we arrived at Norfolk in the summer of 1981 to work as interns for Georgeanna and Howard. The Joneses were already working with two clients when we joined them. Unfortunately, they lost nerve during the winter months and dropped out of the program by the first week of February, after three attempts at implantation had failed. Luckily, a third client, who came into the program in the middle of January, stayed. She was a school teacher from Massachusetts by the name of Carr—Julie or Jolie—I can’t recall exactly which, but…”

  “Judith,” Barbara interrupted, to Dr. Horacek’s surprise. “Judith Carr. I met her in her third trimester, October of 1981, when I came to register.”

  “You met her? That’s right!” Dr. Horacek concurred, excitedly. You have a photographic memory, Barbara,” he complimented genuinely. Then added for Crystal’s benefit, “Your mother has a magnetic memory.”

  “Well, don’t labor that too much,” Barbara demurred. “I only remember her because of the incident with the pet hamster, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah, you’re right. We had to do a little bit of hamster chasing. Boy! That was funny!” Dr. Horacek recalled, chuckling.

  “What was it about the hamster?” Crystal inquired.

  “It got mischievous,” Barbara replied.

  “Well, Mrs. Carr used to come to the clinic with a pintsize pet hamster tucked away in her handbag,” Dr. Horacek filled in the story. “On this particular day, as she got up to go have her vital signs taken, the little trouble maker decided to jump out of the bag and explore the territory. Boy, it took two interns and three nurses to rein the little explorer back into its nest.”

  “And she kept shrieking with laughter whenever the little animal would duck a hand reaching to catch it and the intern or nurse would nearly fall,” Barbara recalled.

  “That was the lady. You remember her very well,” Dr. Horacek replied, still excited at the memory of it all. “She was a pleasant lady, and determined, too. In fact, I still believe it was her high spirits and positive attitude that made her our first success in a series of experiments. When her child finally came on December 28th that year, it was the crowning glory of the Joneses’ life’s work, and ourselves, who made up the team. I can’t erase from my memory the look on Howard’s face after the umbilical cord was cut and the baby gave a healthy cry, protesting a slight whack on the butt by the head nurse. His eyes were huge with excitement as he pulled down his mask below his jawline, smiled from cheek to cheek, and announced, ‘well folks. It’s a girl’! as if it wasn’t already quite obvious.”

  “I believe, too, that she was the reason why I was determined to go through with the surrogacy,” Barbara recalled with conviction. “At the initial stage, I was plagued by fear and numbing doubts. All sorts of questions came to my mind, but listening to her story, and seeing her fully pregnant and counting days, I decided to go ahead with the plan and not look back.”

  “So, that’s when you were trying to have the baby for the couple that you told me about?” Crystal asked, trying not to sound judgmental.

  “Yeah,” Barbara replied ruefully. “Isn’t that strange? Having a baby for someone else?”

  “Stranger still, is having a brother whose person or whereabouts I neither know nor imagine,” Crystal countered aloud. “Suppose one day I meet him and fall in love with him?”

  “Ouch! Crysie!” Barbara bolted upright in her seat. “God forbid!”

  “It’s possible, Mom,” Crystal said, evidently concerned.

  “God forbid such things from happening,” Barbara replied, forcefully, as if her sheer vehemence could prevent it. “Quit reading that crap from Sophocles and Freud.”

  “Mom, it’s not about Sophocles and Freud. This is something that could happen. In any case, I’m not going to wait for God to forbid it,” Crystal replied, almost scandalizing her mom. “I am going to do something to forbid it myself.”

  Crystal reclined back resolutely in the sofa. Something in the tone of her voice told Barbara and Dr. Horacek that she was proposing using the same method she used to find her biological father to search for her biological brother whom she had never met. Barbara knew that Crystal could, and would, do it. The thought of it awoke a barrage of mixed feelings inside of Barbara: wanting Crystal to pursue this, and not wanting her to. Dr. Horacek became convinced that the story of his life and the lives of the two beautiful women sitting in his drawing room across from him was beginning to fill out like a stack of puzzle pieces falling into place. And he did not know what he should do about it, or if he should do anything about it, but wait to only fill in the details whenever the ball landed squarely in his court, as it did at that moment concerning Crystal. He rooted for the latter.

  “Well, Barbara,” he began, softly. “The Oedipus scenario is not avoided because one ignores Freud or Sophocles. The opposite might be a wiser course of action and an antidote to Murphy’s Law. One doesn’t have to wait for something to eventually go wrong because it could go wrong in the first place. Certain situations can always be preempted.”

  “Well, I don’t know.” Barbara shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I don’t know. This is getting more complicated and I am getting tired.”

  “That’s why we should let her,” Dr. Horacek replied. “You won’t be the one to search. You are still ethically bound by your contract. And me, though I was an intern then, and not directly involved in the contract, I am implicated and, as such, ethically bound, too. We don’t do anything ethically wrong if a third-party stakeholder who’s directly concerned does the digging.” Barbara started to respond, but thought the better of it, and kept mum. After all, he was right. Dr. Horacek turned to Crystal again and said, “Whatever plan you have, Miss Sanders, I support you. But, as you ca
n see, we only need to come in when the case has unfolded itself.”

  “I know,” Crystal said in throwaway tones. “All the ethical humbug and contracts. I thank God I have signed nothing with anybody to block my quest. At least I now know who I am and can determine my personality bearings. But I’m still curious to hear the rest of your story, Sir, like how you knocked up my mom and she didn’t know.”

  “He didn’t knock me up,” Barbara retorted vehemently. “He messed with my uterus with a syringe and a pipette.”

  “At your consent,” Dr. Horacek added, stifling a chuckle.

  “Yeah, at my consent,” Barbara concurred, sneeringly.

  “So, how does that change the fact that you were knocked up, and you didn’t know your baby daddy?” Crystal pursued her vengeful humor, to the surprise and amusement of Dr. Horacek.

  “I said he didn’t knock me up!” Barbara was beginning to get riled. Her voice went a decibel higher. “He did it with a pipette and…Oh gosh! Now…that didn’t come out right,” Barbara said with embarrassment, holding out a finger to stop anyone from saying anything.

  Dr. Horacek cracked up in laughter, “I’m so sorry, Barbara. It’s the way you said it….”

  “I said, THAT didn’t come out right,” Barbara retorted, petulantly, sticking out her chin like a defiant teenager.

  “Okay, I got you,” Dr. Horacek replied, holding out his two hands like he was parrying off an attack. He was even taken aback when, glancing at Crystal, he observed that the latter, looking at her mother coyly from the side of her eyes, and smiling impishly, pursued her vengeful teasing.

  “Mom, accept it,” she pressured, patronizingly. “You were knocked up with me and, like a clueless teenager, you didn’t know your baby daddy. Until I brought you here.”

  “Alright, alright! Have it your way, spoiled brat,” Barbara irritatingly conceded defeat. “I was knocked up using a pipette and a syringe. With you. But I was not a clueless teenager. I consented by signing a contract. The contract prevented me from knowing my…‘baby daddy’. And you didn’t bring me here. I brought you. At least I bought your ticket. Now, can the two of you please quit amusing yourselves at my expense?”

  Dr. Horacek suspected that mother and daughter were engaged in some game familiar to them, but he didn’t know if Crystal was kidding or serious. He decided to ask. “Are you upset with her, Miss Sanders?”

  “With whom? My mom? Oh, no. No, Sir,” Crystal replied. “Don’t mind her, Sir. She’s not upset, either. She knows I’m just teasing her. Truth is, Mom got knocked up with me, and, like a clueless teenager, she didn’t know her baby daddy until I brought her to him. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it,” she concluded with a Collin Raye line, sitting up with pride and looking sad and amused at the same time.

  “Dr. Horacek, please, continue with your story,” Barbara said with measured calmness, rolling her eyes at her impertinent daughter. “Don’t mind Crysie. She’s a spoiled brat. I know it wasn’t ethical for you to tell me you switched places with my donor, but I’m dying to know how you lived with that secret for so long, how switching roles and becoming my sperm donor wasn’t unethical, but telling me would have been unethical.”

  “Switching sperm donors wasn’t forbidden in the contract,” Dr. Horacek hedged wisely. “But revealing the identity of the donor was.” Then he continued with his story. “Fast forward fourteen years. Let’s leave the story of your surrogacy years and focus on Miss Sanders. What I did here at my clinic when you worked for me, remember, wasn’t just getting women pregnant by IVF. I was secretly experimenting with the new genetic thing that was going to be cutting-edge inOB/GYN practice. I was reading up on, and experimenting with, a new strategy for testing the genes to detect the ones that might be responsible for the early or late onset of certain diseases like Down Syndrome, Tay-Sachs disease, Cystic Fibrosis, Parkinson’s Disease, Turner Syndrome, and breast cancer—what is now widely called preimplantation genetic testing. Well, the guy who showed up to donate…we found an aneuploidy condition in his genes, susceptible for Turner Syndrome. His gene had twenty-five chromosomes.

  “You’re kidding!” Barbara sat up, confused.

  “No, I kid you not,” Dr. Horacek replied, matter-of-factly. “And considering the time frame and the fact that you wanted the child to be your graduation gift—remember, you told me that—I had to do something fast. I had no time to wait for another donor to show up for me to go through the experimental testing again from the beginning. I felt that you were going to be deeply disappointed if you knew. Believe you me, Barbara, I agonized over that decision for a long time. Since I had already done the test on myself, I decided to donate my sperm. Remember the night you blew up at me and called me…well, ‘lucky son of a bitch’?”

  “Yes, I remember,” Barbara replied, ruefully. “Looks like you still are…because as it stands now, I can’t even sue you.”

  “Yes, Barbara, I still am,” Dr. Horacek replied in a tone devoid of triumph. “I realized that night how seriously I had wronged you by becoming blind to your crush and yearning over me, because I was ambitiously pursuing the success of my career and the flourishing of my new clinic. But the damage was already done. I was married, at least legally. So, secretly donating my sperm so I could meet the deadline for your child to be born around your graduation time was my private way of atoning for the emotional injury I had inflicted on you. It was a way of satisfying myself that I had compensated you.”

  “That was very selfish of you,” Barbara responded, without emotion.

  “Yes. I realize that now,” Dr. Horacek agreed, sincerely. “But I WILL claim credit for two things, though: You have a beautiful young lady who will not suffer the ravages of Turner Syndrome and you had her as your graduation gift, just on time. Those two things were because of my efforts.”

  “Shall I decorate you with a gold medal?” Barbara quipped, somewhat hurtfully.

  “No,” Dr. Horacek said. “What I have now, what has come to me—a beautiful, smart, and intelligent young lady who happens to be part of me because I donated that late afternoon in the lab here at my clinic—is worth more than a thousand gold medals. What’s more, the woman sitting across from me right now, who doesn’t know how right she was when she called me a ‘lucky son of a bitch’, is worth more than another thousand medals, if she would quit pretending to be mad at me, show some understanding and forgiveness, taking into account that providence in its own time has brought around full circle—360 degrees—what was meant to be.” Dr. Horacek paused, got up, and went to the window, peeped outside for a few seconds, and then came back to squat before Barbara Sanders. “Barbara, do you see what I see? You are here, my child’s mother. I am here, your child’s father. Our child, a beautiful, brilliant young lady is here. All of us in this one room. Isn’t that what is called a ‘family’? And all of it, on my birthday!” He got up, breathing hard and looking like someone dazed witless.

  “Excuse me, Sir,” Crystal called in measured tones. “Does that mean you agree to be my dad? That was going to be my last question for you.”

  “Miss Sanders,” Dr. Horacek replied, still looking dazedly happy. “What idiot of a man would say ‘No’ to being a dad to his exquisitely beautiful blood who has flown more than a thousand miles to seek him out and offer him redemption and forgiveness? Miss Sanders, I…”

  “Call me Crysie, then,” Crystal interrupted.

  “Okay… If you agree to call me ‘Dad’, Crysie,” Dr. Horacek replied.

  “Yes, Dad!” Crystal replied excitedly, springing up from her seat.

  “Crysie, come here and give your undeserving dad his first hug,” Dr. Horacek almost shouted. He extended his arms and Crystal ran into his embrace, sobbing loudly and repeating ‘yes, Daddy’ over and over again.

  Father and daughter held tightly to each other for about a minute. Then Dr. Horacek extended his hand toward Barbara. She
hesitated for a second, then noticing Crystal looking expectantly at her, joined them. For a long time, father, mother, and daughter held tightly to one another, sobbing uncontrollably and bathing one another’s shoulders with tears. Then they quietly and slowly began to disengage themselves. Dr. Horacek leaned over and kissed Barbara’s face several times in quick successions, making sucking sounds with the pecks.

  “What are you doing?” she protested, feebly.

  “Kissing away your tears, the tears you shed for me over the years,” Dr. Horacek said, still kissing her.

  “Eew! That must be quite salty,” Barbara said, making faces. “Quit licking my face like an overjoyed dog.” She moved her face from side to side to evade him, vexingly amused.

  “I like the salty taste,” Dr. Horacek said, unrepentantly. “Salt preserves, you know. It’s the best and first preservative that the primitive man discovered. So, I am redeemed and preserved because I have family.” He started shouting and cavorting like a crazy man. “I have family! I have family! I am redeemed!” He cavorted like an amateur trying a foxtrot for the first time.

  “Crysie, your dad’s gone crazy on us,” Barbara said, chuckling with amusement, surprised at this side of Dr. Horacek, which she was seeing for the first time.

  “I’m crazy, too, Mom!” Crystal replied, catching her dad’s euphoria. “I have family! I have family!” She echoed his shouts.

  Daughter and father held hands, chanting, “I have family,” prancing and cavorting like two happy stags. Eventually, they grabbed Barbara and forced her to form a triangle with them as they broke into Sister Sledge‘s We are Family.” Laughing and giggling, they sang the song, first skipping to the left, and then to the right, and to the left again. They sang and danced until they eventually fell on the sofa in one happy giggling heap.