A Xmas Gift: The Sperm Donor

by Aphrodite Hunt

  “So, you’re not going to do it?” she says.

  “You’re really impatient.”

  “I won’t concede on the single parent issue. I don’t need a husband to bring up a kid, Justin. I don’t need your financial help or your support. I only want your genes, but if you’re going to be so difficult about it, it’s OK. I’ll ask someone else.”

  He sighs inwardly.

  “I’ll be honest, Elise. I thought you’d jump at my offer of financial assistance. Bringing up a kid can be hard, especially in these uncertain times. You could lose your job. He may want to go to a college you can’t afford. I wouldn’t be so quick to turn down what I’m offering.”

  Her eyes soften. “I know, Justin. I know.”

  “The answer is ‘yes’. I will help you. I already knew it would be a ‘yes’ the moment you dropped the bomb on me. But I won’t sign that contract. You need to draw up a new one.”

  She nods. “I brought my laptop. The contract is on Word. I can attenuate it.”

  “You’ve thought of everything.”

  “It pays to be safe.”

  He sits back in his chair. “So what I do next?”

  “I’ll be ovulating on Monday, and you know I have always been regular.”

  Oh yes, he knows it. They used to time their sex sessions around her menstrual clock. He grins. “Some things never change.”

  “So you need to go to the clinic and jerk off on Monday. Then they’ll shoot it up inside me.”

  It sounds so clinical and impersonal. But that’s what being a donor means, he supposes.

  “OK. I’ll take leave.”

  Abby is going to wonder why he’s taking so much leave all of a sudden, but really, it’s his life. His decision. He shouldn’t have to answer to anyone.

  She suddenly puts her hand on his, resting on the table. “Thank you, Justin. This means a lot to me.”

  “I know.”

  It means a lot to him to help her too.

  Little does he know what a whole lot of trouble he’s going to land into.

  *

  Justin has an inkling of it when he turns on his cellphone later to find he has fifteen messages and missed calls from Abigail.

  Justin, where are you? Why is your damned cellphone off?

  Justin, I called the office. Ferngully said you had to run a few errands. You’re with that woman, aren’t you?

  Justin, please, please call me back!

  Justin, I’m going out of my mind. Please call me back!

  He grips his phone very tightly in his hand, and speed dials Abby’s number.

  “Yeah. My phone ran out of battery.”

  Pause.

  “I had to go to the post office and the bank.”

  Pause.

  “It’s personal, for goodness sake, Abby. I don’t have to tell you every detail of my financial affairs.”

  Pause.

  “No, I’m not leaving the company.”

  Pause.

  “You shouldn’t drink and drive when you’re upset.”

  Pause.

  “OK, I’ll see you tonight. For God’s sake, Abby, stop crying.”

  When he rings off, he sits in his car for a long while, his mind running with all sorts of dark, ambiguous thoughts.

  9

  What Abby insists, Abby gets, Elise finds out.

  Apparently, she doesn’t throw a tantrum to get it. She dissolves into tears. She bites her fingernails. She transcends into a series of anxious tics and sleeplessness and self-destructive behavior – like drinking excessively or smoking – until that someone accedes to her.

  Compassionate soul/saint or not, Elise decides that Abigail Morton is a manipulator of the highest and most dangerous degree. And suddenly, she wonders if she should be feeling sorry for Justin . . . or terrified.

  It’s none of your business. He’s got a life. Just as you have very succinctly asked him to butt out of yours, you have no right to barge into his.

  But does that mean she’s supposed to stand aside and let him get hurt?

  Yes. You hurt him too when you left him, so you have no right. He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself. If he doesn’t want to be with Abigail Morton, it’s his entitlement to walk out anytime.

  Still, Elise is not looking forward to meeting Abigail Morton. She has heard so much about her that she doesn’t know what to expect. Fire and brimstone coming out of her nostrils, perhaps?

  Don’t tell her about our agreement, Justin had cautioned. Say nothing about the . . . gift.

  OK, she can do that.

  She has agreed to meet Justin and Abby at Le Figaro, a posh restaurant that serves fusion food in Camden Town. She actually went shopping today at Regent Street, which is decorated brightly for holidays with a ‘Twelve Days of Christmas’ theme. She bought a pretty topaz blue and striped black number from Jigsaw because she thought that was what Kate Middleton would wear. She finishes it off with a pair of dangling earrings, and she takes care with her hairdo – well, at least more care than she usually takes.

  I can’t believe it, I’m actually dressing up for Justin’s girlfriend!

  Elise is fashionably early. She is waiting there at the table when Justin arrives with Abby fifteen minutes late. Elise thinks it has more to do with Abby than Justin, since Justin is never late for as long as she has known him.

  Strike One against Abigail Morton.

  “Elise?” Justin says with a touch of nervousness as she rises from her seat to greet them. “Sorry we’re late. Abby couldn’t find her keys.”

  Bingo.

  He takes Elise’s hand and shakes it formally, as if it’s a business meeting rather than a social occasion. Or maybe the English don’t air kiss as frequently as the French do.

  “No problem,” Elise says. “I wasn’t waiting long anyway.”

  She turns her attention to Abby. My rival for Justin’s attention. Abigail Morton is a blonde, and she wears her hair in curls today. She is as tall and svelte as any model. One would think she thrives only on health food. Justin has suggested that Abby prefers Bohemian styles, but today, she’s dressed in a regal, off-shoulder teal gown that would have been the toast of any Parisian runway.

  Elise feels cheap and dowdy in comparison.

  She holds out her hand and tries to muster as much warmth in her voice as possible. “Hi, I’m Elise, Justin’s old friend from high school.”

  Abby takes it as though Elise is contagious.

  “I’m Abigail Morton.”

  “I know. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  Abby darts a glance at Justin, who has his face composed.

  “Oh, what did he tell you about me?”

  They all sit down – Elise and Abby at opposing ends of the table which is bedecked with a white tablecloth, candelabra and empty wine glasses, and Justin at their adjoining side. The waiter comes to give them their oversized menus. The tableau is strangely subdued as they immerse themselves in studying the entrees.

  You can cut the awkwardness with a butter knife, Elise thinks drolly.

  At least the menu gives them some pause before the real conversation starts. The waiter takes their orders. Elise notices that Abby orders a salad Nicoise and nothing else. She, on the other hand, has a healthier appetite. She chooses escargot for a starter and a rump steak with Béarnaise sauce as the entrée – medium rare, thank you very much.

  “So you were Justin’s girlfriend in high school,” Abby says.

  “Abby, this isn’t appropriate. You promised – ”

  “No, Justin, I want to hear this.”

  “It’s OK,” Elise says. “It’s not as if it’s a big secret. Justin and I met when we were in tenth grade. That’s probably the – ”

  “Fourth form,” Justin puts in.

  “Thanks. He was the hottest guy who wasn’t a complete jock in high school.” Elise can see Justin color slightly at the description. “He played soccer and he was pretty good. What position did you play again?”


  “Centerforward.”

  “Right. But he was smart. So smart like you couldn’t believe. He had the best grades and he was class valedictorian. He was this nerd all rolled up in this really hot body. All the girls thought so, but he was so shy you had to practically pry him away from his locker in the hallway when we were passing by.” Elise laughs. “All the girls really had an eyeful of his ass.”

  Justin flushes for real. “I didn’t have my head in my locker.”

  “You were practically an ostrich.”

  “Stop exaggerating.”

  “No, you really were this nerd. You were President of the Chemistry club, for Chrissake.”

  This friendly exchange is not lost on Abby. She glances at Justin’s mortified face and at Elise’s laughing demeanor.

  “I wasn’t over the edge,” Justin insists.

  “But you were close. Thank goodness I managed to snare you away.” Elise turns to Abby, her eyes sparkling. “I asked him for a date. It was on a dare. My friends bet me that I wouldn’t, and to prove them wrong, I did. I asked Justin Morgan, the most delectable boy in the tenth grade, out to a basketball game.”

  “And did he say yes?” Abby says.

  “Not at first. But I was persistent. I waylaid him in the guys’ locker room in front of all his teammates. He was standing there, naked, when I walked in. It was such a hoot. Everyone yelled at me and covered their whatevers.” She rolls her eyes. “Like I’d never seen my brothers naked before.”

  “Elise, do you really have to tell that story?” Justin is turning a nice shade of beet.

  “No, go on,” Abby insists.

  “So he grabbed a football jersey to cover his you-know-whats immediately, and in front of all the boys in the locker room, I asked him out again. I refused to go away until he said yes, and everyone yelled at him to say yes, or they’d forever call him gay.”

  “And how long did you go out for?”

  Elise furrows her brow. “Since we were sixteen . . . until the second year of college?”

  “Yeah,” Justin says. “Then you broke up with me.”

  “I didn’t break up with you. It was mutual. There was no way we could sustain a long-distance relationship with you in Princeton.”

  Justin opens his mouth to say something, and then thinks the better of it when he glances at Abby.

  Abby looks nonplussed.

  “And what have you come all the way to London for, Elise?”

  “I’m on vacation. I’ve never been to London, and so . . . ” Elise darts a glance at Justin, who imperceptibly nods.

  “Were you in touch with Justin all these years?” Abby’s tone is pleasant enough, but there’s an unmistakable thread of interrogation in her voice.

  The starters arrive, giving them a much needed diversion. Elise snares an escargot with difficulty, using the specialized tongs. She almost drops it as she tries to dig into it with a fork. Her lack of finesse is duly noted by Abby.

  “No,” Elise says, finally managing to spear the soft body of the snail, which is smothered in garlic and butter sauce.

  “Then how did you manage to find him?”

  “‘Linked in’,” Justin says quickly. He is having a prawn salad for a starter, but he has barely touched it. “I’m on ‘Linked in’, and so is she.”

  “Are you married, Elise?”

  Elise pauses, and Justin gives her a warning glance. Careful, she’s sizing you up as the competition.

  “Divorced,” she says. “But I have a boyfriend back home.”

  “Ah,” Abby says in between bites. “What does he do?”

  “He works in my company,” Elise says, waving her fork around. The escargot almost goes flying. “In fact, he’s my boss.”

  Justin raises an eyebrow. Elise has to stifle her laughter. She has never told Justin whether or not she’s seeing anyone – her very request of his sperm donation negates that. He simply assumes she isn’t, or she wouldn’t be here. And she’s not, but it’s nice to cook up a story for Justin’s psycho girlfriend.

  “Your boss?” he says pointedly.

  “Yeah. Oh, I didn’t tell you?”

  “You just told me you and he were working together.”

  This is taking a whole new different direction. Elise begins to relax. In fact, she’s enjoying herself.

  “Yes, I’ve been seeing him for the past six months. It’s the worst-kept secret in the company. He’s short, just about five seven, but that never stopped Tom Cruise from being a stud. He’s brilliant, and he wears the most amazing designer glasses. But oooh,” Elise closes her eyes, “he’s incredible in bed.”

  Yeah, like every imaginary lover is.

  Abby is piqued even as Justin grimaces.

  “Spare us the details,” he rasps.

  “No, no, I want to know.” Abby leans over. “So . . . comparatively speaking, is he better in bed than Justin?”

  “Abby!”

  “I can’t answer that,” Elise says demurely. “Over the years, techniques change, you know, and an old dog learns new tricks.”

  Justin rolls his eyes. “Can we talk about something else, please?”

  Abby says, “I can tell you how I met Justin.” She seems happier now that Elise has revealed her (non-existent) boyfriend.

  “Pray tell.”

  Justin busies himself with his entrée of codfish, which has just arrived. He looks like someone who has had the waiter dump a bowl of Tabasco sauce all over his dinner. Elise suspects he’s keeping mum because he wants Abby to have some sort of reassurance that she is not a threat. But Elise knows women like Abby. As insecure as Abby is, everyone – including all her friends and every woman in Justin’s workplace – is a potential threat.

  Abby says with a gleam in her eye, “My father has this annual bash for the office. I don’t usually attend, but I was bored that weekend, and I had nothing else better to do. So I went, and I heard all the women there whispering about this gorgeous new guy who has just been headhunted from America. I had to see what the fuss was all about.”

  Justin seems to want to dive under the table.

  “He was surrounded by a gaggle of office women and quite a few men. And then Daddy came up and took me by the arm. ‘Baby,’ he says, ‘have you met my newest human resource acquisition?’ The crowd parted, and there was Justin. He was wearing a tux, and he was simply stunning. He took my breath away.”

  Elise laughs at Justin’s discomfiture. “Yes, he does that. At any age.”

  “I knew I had to see him again, of course. So the next day I went to his office and asked him out.”

  Elise leans over, interested. “And did he say yes?”

  “He said it was a conflict of interest because my father is his boss and yadda yadda.” Abby waves a diffident hand. “But I spoke to Daddy that night, and he was OK with it. He said he’d assure Justin that it would be OK if we dated.”

  “Yeah, right,” Justin deadpans. “He took me aside and told me if I didn’t take you out, my job and future promotions would be on the line.”

  “No kidding,” Elise exclaims.

  Abby mock punches Justin in the arm. “Daddy did not say that.”

  For answer, Justin makes a funny face.

  Oh yeah, Elise thinks, Daddy did threaten Justin.

  “So here we are,” Abby says happily, reaching for Justin’s hand, which he uneasily gives her. She squeezes it. “Blissful and in love. Never a dull moment, I say. Isn’t that right, darling?”

  Justin gives her a quick grin.

  He’s dying here, Elise decides.

  “You wouldn’t believe the women I’ve had to contend with over him,” Abby says, her tone suddenly turning serious. “Some of them were all over him in the office, but once I established pecking order, none of them would dare touch him with a ten-foot pole.”

  “Abby,” Justin says warningly, “it’s inappropriate to say that. Especially when it’s not true.”

  “It is true, darling, and you know it.” Abby turns to Elise.


  The signal is unmistakable. He’s mine, and I’ve staked my claim. You can look all you want, but don’t touch.

  I don’t want him, Elise wants to tell her, but in her heart of hearts, she knows that is not true either.

  10

  Justin sits beside Elise in the full clinic. Across and beside them – on sofas and chairs – are various couples of all races and ages. OK, most of them are in their thirties. He can almost see the hope and desperation on their faces. Although crowded, there’s a palpable lack of conversation in the waiting room. Everyone is expectant. Everyone is nervous.

  To be honest, he’s feeling a little anxious himself. He has never done this before. It’s like losing his virginity all over again.

  Elise squeezes his hand. She has made them a four o’ clock appointment because it’s the only time on Monday he could get off, but it’s already well past that.

  “You sure you’re ovulating?” he whispers.

  She nods. “I checked my temperature this morning, and the nurse confirmed it with a hormone blood test.”

  “Great,” he says glumly.

  “Your enthusiasm is staggering.”

  “I’m scared of doctors.”

  “There’s no doctor here. There’s just you . . . and lube.” She smiles mischievously.

  He groans. “I don’t remember the last time I jacked off.”

  “That’s because you keep getting laid the normal way.”

  The other couples observe their banter, unable to hear anything that is going on, but envying this young couple their beauty, robustness and obvious camaraderie. Everyone assumes they are married, of course.

  “I thought the other night went well,” Justin remarks.

  “Yeah.” Elise doesn’t want to burst his bubble. She doesn’t want to tell him that later, in the powder room, Abigail Morton came in when she was reapplying her lipstick.

  She eyed Elise in the mirror.

  “If you try to make any move on him, I’ll kill you myself,” she warned.

  Elise took one look at Abby’s pale, determined face, and shuddered inwardly. She isn’t afraid of Abby, but she’s afraid of what Abby might do to Justin.