by Alan Conway
“Not on your life,” I say through gritted teeth. “Hi, Adam!”
We exchange a light hug then I introduce him to the boys.
As soon as we got here, I told them not to embarrass me. I'm thinking that was probably the wrong thing to do.
They're already plotting against me. I know it. They're like children.
C H A P T E R F I V E
THAT LOVING FEELING
Damon
It turns out this Adam guy isn't a douchebag. He's actually pretty cool. Mature. We even play the same video games, so we talk about that while Lauren's scolding Brian for bringing up the time she wet herself in gym class when they were in second grade. Oh she was pissed!
Adam and I talk about fitness for a while since he's a health nut and not a bad one. He tells me he's a vegan – I guess that's why he's so thin, but not an ounce of fat on him – and that he goes to the same gym as Brian and me, except he goes at like five in the morning before work. He delicately brings up the dangers of smoking – probably because he can smell smoke on me – and tells me that he smoked in his younger days but had quit successfully on nicotine gum. I say I'll check it out.
It's Lauren's turn. She's normally a terrible bowler, but she's managed to score three strikes and even picked up a couple of spares. She must be showing off for her new boy toy. But she's frazzled now after her trivial spat with Brian so she rolls her pink eight-pounder right into the gutter. Brian looks at me and shrugs. I smile and take my turn. I overhear Brian tell Adam that his fly is undone. I hear the zip and laugh so hard that I break my form and send the ball into another lane.
The manager comes over and I apologize to him with my most serious face to show him that I haven't been drinking, but now I believe I will order a pitcher from the snack bar.
We all drink and loosen up, talking about whatever we want until the place closes up. While we're out in the parking lot freezing our asses off, Adam gives Lauren a hug and kisses her on the cheek, then he comes over and shakes my hand then Brian's before driving away.
“I think that went well,” Brian says, shoving his fists into his pockets.
Lauren gives him this look, a stern look that cracks me up. Soon we're all cracking up then I say, “So, do you think he'll call you again?”
“If you boys didn't scare him off.”
“We were on our best behavior,” Brian says.
“Hey, I saw the way he was looking at you,” I say, putting my arm around Lauren.
“And I saw the way you were looking at him,” Brian says.
“He's almost too good to be true, though,” Lauren says under her breath.
We follow Brian to his car. He says, “Most people are. What does your heart tell you?”
“He's a good catch,” she says, smiling. “If I don't screw it up.”
“We promise not to screw it up first,” I say then look at Brian to confirm. “Right, man?”
“I'm not making any promises.” He winks at Lauren, then she starts jumping up and down like a crazy person.
“I really like this guy. And you both better be nice to him because he's been assigned to monitor my progress after I become pregnant.”
“Then I would keep it quiet if I were you,” Brian says. “It could get him in trouble.”
Lauren nods and gets in her car. She starts the engine and rolls down the window to say, “Let's just see if he calls me, okay?”
Then she's gone. Brian says, “He'll call. I can tell he really likes her.”
“I think he likes us, too.” I'm feeling a lot better about myself, but not completely.
Brian
Adam did call Lauren. They've been on a couple other dates since our double, and it sounds like they've really hit it off. I text her before we board the plane and make sure that I've brought plenty of free drink coupons for Damon because he's a wreck.
I make him sit by the window because he's never been on an airplane before. It's going to be terrifying at first, but it's like ripping off a Band-Aid or getting a shot – a quick freak out then it all better.
His nose is pressed to the glass as we taxi on the runway. His hand vibrates in mine. The captain comes over the PA to say howdy.
“I think I got this,” Damon says, breathing deeply with his eyes closed.
“Open your damn eyes.” I squeeze his hand hard. He opens them a little.
We're barreling down the runway. It's loud and adrenaline's pumping through me madly. I lean over and watch the runway slowly disappear as we're thrust back in our chairs.
“Damon, open your eyes! Look!”
The world's shrinking away. Damon watches with wide eyes. He's completely mesmerized. I haven't flown in a while, but it's quite a magical sight to see.
After Damon's had a couple of drinks, he tugs at my arm and points out the window. I look out and see the bent horizon and the cotton ball clouds below us, the sky a brilliantly dark indigo that seems so close to the stars and so far from home.
And we're sharing this moment together.
We drag our luggage from the rental car up to our hotel room. I plan out the next three days in Austin while Damon unpacks our stuff and orders a pizza, which is free since the front desk gave us a coupon. I text Lauren to tell her we arrived safely. She would have flown out with us but she had obligations at work so she's flying in tomorrow.
After we eat, we nap for an hour or so then we drive over to Centurion Care where Dr. Carter is expecting us.
I'm told Damon and I have to give another sperm sample. I ask what was wrong with the first sample. This condescending elderly woman behind the glass says our first sample was for the fertility test. This sample will be used for cellular insertion, or something like that. I just say okay and go sit down. Damon goes back first and I laugh a little because I think he likes having an excuse to masturbate.
Who doesn't?
I can smell the sterilized air circulating through the waiting room. He comes out having finished his business as I go back to do mine. Carter has left a message with the lady at the front desk apologizing for not being able to greet us today. He had a family emergency and says to come by the lab on Thursday to watch the implantation as it happens.
Later that night, I call Lauren from the hotel and wish her good luck. She'll be flying out of Nashville in a few hours and be on her way into Houston then Austin, where she'll be prodded and stuck with cold metal objects grabbling for her eggs. She sounds tired but restless. It's a huge deal for all of us and I make sure she understands my gratitude. I don't know that Damon called her while I was showering, expressing his own appreciation.
I turn off the lamp and crawl in next to him. His hair is fragrantly strong with the smell of sweet apples. I kiss him on the ear, his body contorted in such a way that only he is capable of doing while in the throws of slumber. I close my eyes, imagining the child – the face, the eyes, the smile – hoping for a boy, although Damon secretly wants a girl. I feel my chest rise into the warmth of his back as darkness overtakes me.
C H A P T E R S I X
WAITING FOR A MIRACLE
Brian
We take advantage of the continental breakfast downstairs – a Tex-Mex smorgasbord fit for an oil tycoon. Damon inhales a couple bowls of cereal while I read the local paper. Among the fine journalistic efforts in the Arts and Music section, I look over the local ads aimed at Austin's tourism. The Alamo is within driving distance, but our funds are limited after a sizable down payment at the clinic. There are underground caves, pub crawls, and a few choice theme parks. A music festival in Katy catches my attention, but none of the acts sound familiar.
“Are you nervous?” he asks.
I lower the paper. “Aren't you?”
“Well, yeah, but it sounds like they know what their doing, so–”
“I'm just not sure if we know what we're doing.”
“Brian,” he says, patting my knee under the table, “it'll be all right.” It's a moment of strong eye contact we rarely share anym
ore. I find comfort in those eyes and hush my doubts. He slurps milk from the Styrofoam bowl. “Talked to Lauren?”
“Yeah, briefly.”
“How is she?”
“Eh, hard to tell.” I feel like lying. “I almost talked her out of it.”
“So did I, but then she said something that hit me right in the gut. She said if it works, it will be the most beautiful thing she'll ever do for herself or for anybody else.”
A smile grows on my lips, but doubt shuffles back. “Do you think it will work?”
Damon shakes a long finger at me. “Remember what you say about the impossible?”
“Certain things are improbable, but never impossible.”
He winks at me and looks out at the Texas sun rising beyond the city skyline. “A third of me.”
“What?”
He looks back at me almost in a dream. “The baby. It'll be a third of me.”
“And a third of me,” I hear myself say as the words root themselves deep within the core of my being, electrifying my nerves. Adrenaline floods through me like a golden tidal wave.
Thursday comes quickly after a few days kicking around Austin. We eat at IHOP – all-you-can-eat strawberry-banana pancakes, oh my goodness – then we stop by IKEA where I buy silverware, bed sheets, and a curious bottle of mulled wine with a Swedish name I can't pronounce. Damon drags me into a used video game store where we bask in the nostalgia of our childhoods, digging through crates of beat-up cartridges from obsolete consoles. While Damon's checking out, Lauren texts me. She's out of the clinic and going to her hotel to rest. It's downtown near the convention center, which isn't too far from our own hotel. We make arrangements to have an early dinner before we're expected at the clinic to watch the miracle-workers in action. She insists on IHOP after I tell her about the strawberry-banana pancakes.
We arrive at the clinic a little before six o'clock. I'm feeling a bit ill. While Damon and Lauren check-in, I slip off to the bathroom and splash some water on my face.
I'm getting use to waiting rooms. They all look pretty much the same with their faded art prints, outdated magazines that no one really reads, and especially those few dozen uncomfortable chairs that look sicker than the handful of ill people slouched in them. We do a lot of waiting, and in these rooms designed for waiting, it only reminds me of what we're all truly waiting for:
Death.
We're called back almost immediately. Dr. Carter shakes my hand gently and puts his arm around my shoulders.
He whispers, “Brian, do you believe in God?”
“I don't know,” I say. “Sometimes.”
“Do you believe in miracles?”
I shrug. “I must.”
He smiles reassuringly. “Take a seat in here. All of you.”
We sit in front of a video monitor fed by input from the microscope in the lab next door. Classical music plays out of the tiny screens imbedded in the ceiling tiles. I begin to shake. My knees knock and my legs spasm, which makes my chair creak viciously. I reach for Damon's hand at my left and for Lauren's at my right.
Damon whispers, “Don't be a baby.”
“I'm not being a–”
Lauren gives my hand a squeeze. “It's okay, hon.”
And for the next hour, we watch this little bubble – Lauren's egg – as it's drained of its nucleic material and replaced with my DNA. Then we see hundreds of Damon's sperm swimming around the egg until one is aided with safe passage through the membranous wall.
I'm thinking that's it?
Not quite.
Lauren
The whole thing was really amazing to watch. After the egg was fertilized – on the first attempt, which was rare according to Dr. Carter – it's implanted into my uterus. I'm put on all kinds of mediation to make sure it attaches itself properly and survives. Carter says it could take a few days and he recommends that I stay in town a while longer in case there's a problem. I agree. He even gives me an official excuse for my employer. Score!
We do very little over the next few days. We eat, sleep, and rent movies on pay-per-view. We do go over to this huge outdoor outlet mall and window shop. We look at all the wonderful little baby toys, clothes, bottles, play pens, carriers, car seats, and stuffed animals. We buy nothing there. We don't even know what to buy. It hits me that I don't know what to expect or how to prepare. We walk over to the book store and buy twenty-four books – eight different titles, three copies each. It's no longer a day for dreaming but a day for preparation.
Might as well start now.
Brian
Most people assume gratitude is simply understood, but it is not. If you are grateful for someone or something, let it be known. The rewards are plentiful, and deservedly so.
I cannot express the joy – and fear – I felt when Lauren burst into the room screaming that she was pregnant. The moment was surreal and beyond my ability to grasp, but knowing she was carrying a child that bore our genes was exceptionally humbling. We feasted and talked for hours, planning our future together. We all knew this would be an arduous journey, but we were grateful for this opportunity. It's so hard to believe that was six months ago.
Damon and I take turns visiting her when Adam is working. He and Lauren have become an unbelievably happy couple, and Adam is proud to harbor this unconventional relationship that evolves with each passing day. Lauren's cousin has since moved out and left an empty room that now possesses all the innocent charm ready for a child to thrive and grow.
Just the other day, Damon and I were on our way to Lauren's apartment and I just watched him as he drove, getting lost in that smile so warm it could melt the ice cap and flood the earth. I thought about a conversation we had a long time ago. He had asked me if I could chose anyone to be with, who would it be. I don't believe I answered, but I silently said you. And while I was looking at him, I thought to myself this was still true. I'm living my dream of spending time with someone whose company I truly enjoy. He's the one I want to talk to when I wake up, the one whose hand I want to hold and spend my life with.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
Lauren's on her second bowl of ice cream. Adam is here trying to give her a handful of prenatal vitamins, but she's a handful herself today. He looks frustrated when I come in the door and hang up my jacket. Adam says Dr. Carter will be flying into town in a few days to check her out. He leaves for work and I begin my shift.
“I'm craving something salty,” Lauren says, wiping her lips. “Can you see what I have in the pantry, Brian? Peanuts! See if I have any peanuts, please.”
I give her a small bow and retrieve a can of roasted nuts from the cupboard. She shoves handfuls in her mouth while trying to tell me something I can't understand.
“Has anyone ever told you not to talk with your mouth full?” I ask.
She gives me a dirty look, swallows, and repeats her sentence. “I said I've got some names picked out and I want your input.”
“Boys’ and girls’ names?”
“Yes, both,” she says.
“What are you hoping for?”
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I just hope it's healthy whether it's a boy or a girl. What about you?”
“I want a boy, you know that.”
“Damon wants a girl,” she says with a smile that tells me she wants a girl, too.
“Well, let's hear these names.”
Before she can speak, my phone rings. It's my doctor. He asks me if I'm coming in tomorrow for my first round of chemo. I tell him I'll be there. He seems surprised and somewhat relieved since I've been avoiding him the past few months. At least now I don't have to worry about my treatment affecting my healthy sperm count.
After I get off the phone with him, Lauren asks me if I'd like her to come with me since Damon has to work. I say that's fine. It scares me because I'm not sure what to expect, although Mom has had numerous chemo treatments. She didn't lose her hair or anything, but she was always tired and very sick. I remember the fading
lines drawn on her neck by the doctors so they could target the cancerous tumor beside her adam's apple.
I shudder.
Lauren takes my mind off it by telling me some of the names she's picked out. Most of them are very common and the unique ones are far beyond my ability to appreciate. I remind her that the name should flow well with the last name, but then again, we haven't decided whose last name the child will have.
Damon calls on his lunch break and I run the choices by him. He shoots them all down, and I'm glad. I pat the book of baby names and tell Lauren to come up with some more and to be creative this time. She doesn't like that, but we have a laugh just the same.
Lauren
Adam's asked me to move in with him. I know it's a big deal, but I hate living here by myself. The boys have already fixed up the baby's room and I'd hate to have it redone elsewhere. Then again, Adam has a three bedroom house in the suburbs with a garage and a fenced-in backyard. I've never lived with a man before, and although I've dreamed about being with Brian for so long, that's starting to fade.
What is a single mother-to-be to do?
That's unfair to say, I suppose. I have three wonderful guys in my life and all the support I'll ever need, plus some. I've got it made.
Brian
Lauren finally has the chance to wear maternity clothes. If she and I were walking through a department store and saw a mannequin in a large, loose-fitting top, she'd say oh that's so cute!
Pregnancy – children – babies – diapers – toys – clothes – diapers – babies – crying – pregnant. It's enough to drive you mad.
I sold a new book to Caplan & Hammond called Wilderness Drive. My advance was almost twelve thousand dollars – three of which went straight into a secret bank account Damon doesn't know about. It's a vacation fund I've been working on for the past year, should we ever get the chance to take a vacation. I talked it over with Lauren and she agreed it would be best for Damon and I to make a temporary escape before the baby comes. Adam will be around to keep an eye on Lauren, so I hope Damon won't be too upset when I surprise him with reservations tonight.
