A Xmas Gift: The Sperm Donor

by Aphrodite Hunt

  She notes that his office is set a little away from the rest, and that he has a male Personal Assistant who is now rising to his feet with undisguised curiosity.

  “Ms. Ratner, I presume. I’m Ferngully, Mr. Morgan’s assistant.”

  “So it says on your desk,” she says, smiling.

  “Step right this way, please.”

  He guides her to the door with a practiced knock, and opens it without waiting for the signal to ‘Enter’.

  She can feel her heart thudding as she walks through the door. It has been twelve years. How would he react when he sees her after such a period of time? They hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms. She had called it off when he was willing to wait for her, but she recognized even then that he had not understood the concept of waiting.

  She isn’t prepared for the sight of Justin Morgan – all grown up. She thought she would be, but she isn’t.

  Not by a long shot.

  He had been a beautiful boy even then, but as a thirty-three year old man, he is beyond striking. His thick chestnut hair – the hair she used to dig her fingers into when they were making love – is what hairdressers would describe as being artfully disheveled. His handsome face possesses arresting hazel eyes which turn mud-green as he gets up in the different plays of light from his floor-to-ceiling windows. His nose is a blade cut marvelously in the middle of his face, and his mouth is generous, sensual, and wide.

  He is a man’s man now, not the pretty boy he once was. Every inch the gorgeous, impeccably-suited executive.

  He is staring at her too, and the expression on his face can only be described as ‘strangled’.

  “I’ll leave you two alone,” a voice interrupts them.

  She jumps. Ferngully closes the door with a knowing smile.

  Justin mutters something under his breath. “I swear one day he'll go too far,” he says aloud.

  “Why? I think he’s endearing.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  She stares at him again, taking – no, soaking in the sight of him. My, but he is fine. And she had decided twelve years ago not to wait for this. Regret comes bubbling like a frothy witch’s brew, but she quells it by swallowing the lump which has suddenly bolted to her throat.

  He might still turn out to be an asshole.

  He is still flummoxed, disconcerted.

  “So what brings you here, Elise? You on vacation?”

  She has always been straight arrow.

  “Actually, I have a favor to ask you, Justin.”

  A funny look crosses his handsome features. She winces. She knows that look. It’s a ‘so you’re hooking up with me twelve years after we broke up because you want a favor from me’ kind of look.

  “Shoot,” he says. Right to the point, as always. Their relationship had never been one where they had to pussy-foot around each other.

  She clears her throat and tries to stem her own rapidly beating tide.

  She says in a rush, “I want to have a baby, and I don’t want a husband. I want you to be my sperm donor. You don’t have to be responsible for the baby or anything else. I have the legal papers drawn up for you to sign that will absolve you from all responsibility. All you have to do is come to the fertility clinic and jerk off in a cup. They’ll shoot it up me.”

  She is expecting him to be staggered, of course. But he practically is rooted to the spot. Frozen. Petrified.

  His face twitches.

  Uh oh.

  He’s going to say ‘no’.

  He says, still in that uncertain frame of mind: “Uh, you want to do lunch? Pret A Manger’s downstairs?”

  *

  “Oh wow, these are good,” Elise says as she bites into a ham-and-cheese sandwich.

  “I know.” He is having a bacon, lettuce and tomato.

  The sandwich café is crowded with the lunchtime throng, but they have managed to secure a half-cleaned table at the back. Not exactly the best place for conversation, but she senses that he takes comfort from the familiar surroundings. After all, she did drop quite a bomb.

  “So why didn’t you get married?” he asks.

  He’s ready to talk, she senses it.

  “I did get married.”

  He puts down his half-eaten sandwich. She is aware of several women at the other tables giving them surreptitious glances. They’re checking him out, she thinks with a smile. Same old, same old. Some things never changed from high school. She was checking him out plenty too before they got it on.

  “You never invited me to the wedding,” he says, keeping his tone light.

  She sighs inwardly. He’s hurt, and she knows him all too well. He did always have a predilection for masking how he felt. Justin grew up in a strict home. His father was in the military, and he always gave precise instructions to his boys to ‘handle it like a man’.

  “It was a shotgun affair. Reno.”

  “He knocked you up?” he says, surprised.

  “Not exactly.” She shudders when she thinks of her marriage, but now is not the time to let Justin in on what happened. “It lasted for exactly a year and a half. Let’s keep it at that.”

  He nods. He has always been one who respects other people’s privacy. She has always admired this trait of his.

  “No kids?”

  “Obviously.”

  “Thought I’d ask, just in case.”

  “What about you? Married?” She knows he’s not, and that’s why she’s here.

  “No.”

  ‘Girlfriend?”

  He hesitates before saying, “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?” She laughs. “Either you have a girlfriend or you don’t.”

  “It’s complicated. Let’s leave it at that.” He smiles without really smiling.

  She ponders this. “So . . . would she mind if you . . . contributed your DNA?”

  “I didn’t say I was going to do it. It is a huge responsibility.”

  “Oh no, it isn’t. Not for you.” She delves into her bag and brings out a bound document. “Read through this and put your mind at ease.”

  He scrutinizes the document carefully as she finishes the rest of her sandwich. He finally puts it down and looks up at her. She finds herself admiring his large hazel eyes again – so penetrating and beautiful.

  “So why me?” he says. “Why not some anonymous donor from a sperm bank?”

  She’s prepared for this.

  “Let’s see . . . because I know what I’m getting? You’re handsome – ”

  He laughs.

  “You know you are, so cut out the act. You’re MENSA intelligent. You’re six-two.”

  “What if the baby’s a girl? You want a giraffe?”

  “So what if she turns out to be tall? You got something against tall women?”

  “Noooo,” he says slowly.

  “That’s settled then. And . . . you’re a pretty decent guy. At least, you were half a decent guy. Athletic. Nice. Dependable.” She trails off.

  Is that all she remembers of him? Oh yeah, the sex. The sex was pretty good when they both quickly grew into it.

  “I’m still a decent guy.”

  “There you go. All fit to be a baby daddy.”

  His cellphone on the table buzzes. He frowns.

  She flashes him an innocent smile. “Uh oh. Do you have to report back?”

  “It’s Abigail.”

  Ah, the girlfriend.

  It’s amazing how much she’s at ease with him. She has almost forgotten how he made her feel – like an old shoe, but in a good way. She can be herself with him. No pretenses. No defenses. No prickly barbed wire fences around her heart.

  He scrunches his face at her smiling one and picks his phone up.

  “Hello? Uh yeah, I’m at lunch.”

  Pause.

  “No, I wasn’t aware we had an appointment. I’m with an old friend.”

  Pause.

  “You’re outside my door? Geez, Abby, we just had lunch yesterday. Some of us do have to work, yo
u know.”

  Elise feels like ducking. Uh oh, trouble in paradise. The fact that he can’t really say outwardly that he is in a relationship tells it all. Maybe he should try telling Abigail that. Of course, it’s probably more complicated than what is on the surface, and if he’s ready to tell her about it, he will. No obligations. No prying. That was how they conducted their relationship, past tense.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Pause.

  “You did what?”

  Roll of his hazel eyes.

  “OK, I can’t talk for long. I’ll see you later, OK? And I’d really appreciate it if you would call before you drop by next time. Contrary to what you think, I don’t like surprises.”

  Elise has to suppress her smile from getting wider. Guilty as charged. Though she does have the luxury of not having seen him for twelve years, so he’s more than likely to be forgiving. It has always been a pet peeve of Justin. He hates anything with ‘surprise’ tagged onto it. Even if it is his own surprise birthday party, as she has found out to her chagrin.

  “OK, I’ve got to go now. Bye.”

  He rings off and appears somewhat abashed.

  “Girlfriend?” Elise inquires mildly.

  “We’re dating.”

  “We were dating back in the day too,” she says, “and we were pretty much considered girlfriend and boyfriend.”

  “I tend to use the word more sparingly now.”

  “Oh, would I have qualified according to your present nomenclature?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Why?” she teases. “What’s the secret qualifying ingredient?”

  He laughs. “Let’s change the subject. I didn’t say ‘yes’ yet, by the way.”

  “Yes to your girlfriend?”

  Grimacing, he motions to the document.

  Oh. That.

  She raises her eyes to his. She has always been upfront and direct.

  “So what do you think of my proposal?” There’s a sudden hoarseness in her throat. She hadn’t realized how much she wants to have his child until she saw him again. How beautiful he was. How successful.

  No, she doesn’t want his money, but think of all those incredible, success pathway genes.

  He hesitates before replying, “It’s a big decision, Elise. I’ll have to consider it carefully. It’s not as easy as you think.”

  “Oh, yes it is. All you have to do is jerk off in a little plastic container. I’ll be the one who does the carrying, the gaining of weight, the actual birthing, the screaming, the recovering, the bringing up baby – ”

  “That’s not what I mean and you know it. I can’t just walk away from my own kid. Elise. I can’t just sign a contract giving up all my paternal rights.”

  “You’re not giving up your paternal rights. I’m just making it easy for you. You’re welcome to come and see the baby anytime you like.” She places her hand upon his earnestly, and she can see that this gesture is not lost on him.

  She says, “I’m not trying to rekindle whatever we once had, Justin. You’re free to marry Abigail or whoever it is you want to marry. I’m merely asking you to donate your sperm so that I can be a single mother. The only difference is that I know what I’ll be getting. I’ll be perfectly happy if you never want to see your child . . . ever.”

  “That sounds brutal.”

  “It’s no different from a sperm bank,” she argues.

  “It is for me. It’s because I’ll know who you are, Elise, and I’ll know my kid is there, right across the Atlantic. It’ll bug the hell out of me.”

  She sighs. “So you’re saying ‘no’ to me.”

  “I need time to think.”

  “OK. I get it.” It’s more complicated for him that she thought it would be. “When can you give me an answer? I can’t stay here indefinitely.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “Comfort Inn in Harrow.”

  “Harrow. That’s a distance away.”

  “It’s only thirty minutes by Tube.”

  “I have an apartment . . . I mean a three-bedroom flat in South Kensington. You can move in if you like.” He holds up his hands. “I promise I’ll be good.”

  “I think that will prove too complicated for Abigail, if not for you.”

  “Yeah,” he sighs, “there’s that.”

  “And I can’t stay here forever. Single mothers-to-be have to work so that they can be single mothers,” she points out.

  “What do you do, Elise?”

  “I’m in advertising. Accounts exec.”

  “Great. It’s what you’ve always wanted to do. I’m happy for you.”

  “You’re doing pretty well for yourself.”

  They smile at each other. A heated memory of her own limbs being entwined with Justin’s comes unbidden to her, and she pushes it back. He’s not yours anymore, she reminds herself, and you don’t want another man anyway. You’re better off on your own. You learned that the hard way.

  But Justin is not Leonard, her inner voice tells her.

  He says with regret, “I have to go. Meeting. But what are you doing tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know. Since I’m here, I’ll be a tourist, I guess.”

  “That’s as good a plan as any.”

  They exchange cellphone numbers.

  “I’ll call you tonight,” he promises. “I’ll see if I can get some time off to show you the sights.”

  She’s surprised. “You will? But I thought you were the busy executive.”

  “How often does an old friend come to see me all the way from America?”

  She notices he said ‘friend’ and not ‘girlfriend’.

  “Trying to let me down easy, huh?” she remarks.

  “I didn’t say ‘no’, Elise. Give me some time to think it over.”

  He smiles uneasily at her again.

  6

  Justin can’t seem to get Elise Ratner out of his mind all afternoon. He finds himself reimagining his first sight of her in his office after twelve years.

  She stood right there – a vision. It isn’t as if Elise Ratner is particularly beautiful. She’s attractive, yes, and she has gorgeous red hair. Her features and frame were always too angular, her nose too thin. But she has never been anything less than striking. In fact, she takes you aback with your first sight of her like a sucker punch in the gut – she’s that confident – until you start nitpicking and analyzing her every feature.

  It hadn’t mattered. Suddenly, every memory of the passion they once shared came rushing back in that very office. He had felt a curious warmth flood his core, and he recognized it as desire, admixed with the youthful love they once shared.

  He saw them making love in his bedroom all those years ago. The very first time they lost their virginity to each other. His parents had been out and they were supposed to be studying. Yeah, right. He had been so eager to please her that he had asked Tommy Maloney, the resident bad boy from senior class, to teach him how to pleasure a girl.

  He remembered trying cunnilingus on her in his very first attempt. He had been awkward and clumsy and he ended up tickling her and making her laugh. It wasn’t quite the result he was aiming for, but it was a good experiment that served as the platform for him to get better. After that, it could only be uphill.

  But oh, they had done a lot in those days of teenage madness. His hormones were raging and so were hers. They seemed to be all over each other like ivy, enfolded in each other’s embrace every chance they got.

  Everyone dubbed them ‘DRAPE’ for obvious reasons.

  He has just returned to his apartment. No scratch that, flat. Old American terms die hard. But it’s a pretty big flat. There are three bedrooms – one of which he converted into a study. Modern cubist art frames every spare inch of wall. He always did like abstract.

  He puts down his briefcase, takes off his jacket, goes to the refrigerator in the kitchen and pulls out a Jim Beam – still thinking about Elise.

  He is just about to kick back and relax when t
he doorbell rings. For a moment, his heart leaps.

  Elise.

  He rushes to swing the door open, only to find Abigail standing there, beaming. Try as he may, he can’t stop his spirits from sinking a little.

  “Darling!” She rushes into his arms before he can protest, and kisses him.

  “Abby, I’ve just gotten home.”

  “I know.” She whirls in with her large tote bag. “That’s why I have decided that we should have a picnic on your living room floor.”

  He sighs, slightly amused, as she plunks herself unceremoniously down in the middle of his living room. She begins to lay out things she has brought in her bag.

  “Come on in and make yourself at home,” he says to no one in particular.

  “I went to Harrods today and bought a whole lot of stuff.” She throws out a pretty picnic cloth and takes out goat’s cheese, three different kinds of pate, and a box of crackers. “Do you like cous cous?”

  Does it matter? he wonders as she begins spooning it out of the jar.

  She holds out to spoon to him.

  “Come here and take a bite.”

  He obediently indulges her. Damn, and he was hoping to chill. And then call Elise to see what she was doing for dinner. Something about their situation had made him refrain from inviting her out to dinner outright earlier, but he had time to think about it in the afternoon. And yes, he has decided he really, really would like to spend some time catching up with Elise.

  “Hmmm, nice,” he says truthfully.

  If Abby had a proper job, he reckons she wouldn’t have so much time to spend shopping and thinking of ways to be with him.

  “So,” Abby says, her eyes turning shrewd, “Ferngully tells me that you had a female visitor today. An old friend, as he puts it.”

  OK, Ferngully has got to go. He has to have a word with Thaddeus Morton about it. Never mind if Ferngully has been the PA for the President of Operations since the times of Queen Victoria.

  “Elise and I were in high school together. Secondary school for you.”

  “Was she your girlfriend?”

  Right to the point.