by Beth Martin
··OOO··
Irene couldn’t concentrate the rest of the day. She was worried that she’d be forced to submit to some cruel experiment. She was livid with Jamie, both for letting Aiden into their apartment and for removing her implant without ever mentioning it. After spending over fifteen minutes reviewing a single profile, Bobby suggested she should call it a day.
She was fuming the entire ride home. She rehearsed in her head exactly what she would say to her wife. A little voice in the back of her brain reminded her that she couldn’t have a constructive conversation about this until she calmed down, but she focused instead on how Jamie had wronged her.
Storming into their apartment, she walked straight to the studio door and threw it open while shouting, “We need to talk.” She looked around the studio. On the easel was a painting of swirling blue water with an ugly orange stripe down the middle. All of the paints and brushes were put away. Her smock hung on its peg on the wall. Jamie was nowhere to be seen.
“Where is she?” Irene asked, stomping through the apartment. She wasn’t in the living area or the bedroom. The bathroom was also empty. “Where is she?”
In the kitchen, she found a note on the counter. It said, “Went out. Won’t be back until late.” Irene pulled at her thick curls. Where the hell had her wife gone?
“Where is Jamie?” she said. Recalling the obsolete model of her device, she shouted, “CHA CHA CHERRY Where is Jamie?”
Her device was sitting on the counter right where she had left it that morning. “Jamie Crow’s location has been set to private. She is currently not receiving calls. Would you like to send a message?”
“She’s my fucking wife,” Irene shouted, slamming her fist on the counter next to her device. “Tell me where she is!”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. Could you please repeat your request?”
She sighed and opened the kitchen cabinet. Right at the front was a half-full bottle of bourbon. She didn’t remember buying it, but it would do the job just the same. She took the bottle and filled a glass with the transparent brown liquid. After shooting back the first glass she refilled it. This time she sipped slowly as she walked to the bathroom.
Setting the glass on the sink, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. How had she gotten here? She lost the job she loved and now she was going to lose her wife. As she reached for the faucet to run the water, something caught her eye. It was barely bigger than a grain of rice. Irene picked up the speck from the side of the sink and examined it closely. It was a birth control implant, Jamie’s birth control implant.
She couldn’t take it any longer. Tossing the stupid speck into the trashcan she stormed out of the bathroom, grabbed her device, and left for the local bar.
··OOO··
Irene was glad she had a chance to cool her head after her freakout on Tuesday. When she finally did talk to Jamie later that evening, she learned that her wife had been interviewing with a gallery manager, and was going to be featured in an art show next month. Her pride for her wife’s accomplishments immediately eclipsed her anger over the removal of Jamie’s implant.
She also got a chance to read Jamie’s booklet about a woman’s body and conception, and was pleased to learn it would take a few weeks for all the hormones preventing ovulation to leave Jamie’s system. It was less time than she had planned on, so she had to do her best to quickly uncover whatever scheme the FBI was looking for.
“Bobby, I’ve got a question,” she said.
“Shoot,” he said, turning in his chair to face her. Today he wore neon green glasses with a green and pink polka-dot bow tie.
“I’m looking at this male profile, and I actually found three potential matches.” In reality, she had been sorting through the files trying to find any matches that would somehow break the law to see how they would be dealt with.
“May I see?” Bobby asked, holding out his hand. She hoped he wouldn’t look too closely. Two of the three matches she had picked out were a bit of a stretch. Instead, he only scanned the male profile before saying, “No, not quite.” He handed the profiles back to her. “Just pick the best fit and send her a notification letter. If she’s changed her mind, then move to the next best fit.”
Irene looked back down at the files. “What did you mean, ‘not quite’?”
Bobby set his elbow on the table and propped his chin up on his fist. “We’re always on the lookout for what Aiden calls, ‘quality DNA’. Basically, it’s when a man is both well-rounded and has savant qualities. Someone who’s successful, talented, an amazing specimen. Usually they already have a kid.”
“What do we do if we find quality DNA and he’s already reached his progeny limit?” she asked.
“Doesn’t matter how widely his seeds are spread. If you find quality DNA, let me know. I hold those profiles special for Aiden. I mean, it’s what AQD is all about. The advancement of quality DNA.” Irene had thought AQD was all about improving the overall human genome, not spreading the genetics of just a few select men.
“What if a woman has so called, ‘quality DNA’?”
Bobby paused for a moment to adjust his tie before answering. “Well, there are, eh, biological challenges to advancing women. It’s only possible now for men, but I know Aiden is working on a solution to better utilize quality DNA women. Speak of the devil…” he glanced up from Irene to the spiral staircase.
Irene looked over and saw Aiden coming down. She hadn’t seen him since the trip to the medical room in the subway tunnel earlier that week. Her heart rate quickened, but she tried to smile and act pleased to see him.
“How’s everyone doing?” Aiden asked.
“Fine,” the other three office workers replied as Irene said, “Good.”
“I need to talk to Irene. Could you please come with me?”
Irene shot a glance at Bobby before saying, “Of course.” She followed Aiden up the staircase and out of the storm doors. Instead of getting in his car, he opened the back door to the farmhouse and held it open for her.
She stepped inside to a quaint country kitchen. The floors were old linoleum and the table and chairs looked like antique oak. There were checkered curtains and roosters decorating the space. It was like a time capsule from a past era, but she couldn’t put her finger on which one.
“I put some water on for tea. Would you like some?” he asked.
She slid into one of the chairs at the table. “Sure.”
“You know, I’m impressed,” he said as he pulled two delicate cups from upper cabinets with glass panels set in the front. “You are one tough chick.”
She wasn’t sure what he was talking about. “Oh, thank you.”
As the kettle on the stove started to whistle, he lifted it off the hot coil and poured the steaming water into a teapot. He brought the tray containing the teapot, sugar bowl, and two teacups over to the table and sat down next to her.
“I need to apologize,” he said. He poured tea from the pot into both cups, then added sugar to both. She took one of the cups and held it with both hands. “There’s a mole in AQD reporting to the FBI.”
She set down her cup and tucked her hands in her lap where he wouldn’t be able to see them trembling.
He continued talking. “I thought maybe it was you, since you are the newest employee, and privy to our secrets. I took you down to the emergency medical suite with the intention of scaring you into reporting us.”
Irene blinked hard. “Reporting you? For what?”
Aiden laughed. “For medical experiments,” he said, wiggling his fingers. He smiled as he took a long sip of tea. When she didn’t say anything, he continued. “Michael Shark was the mole. He got arrested for public intoxication, of all things. Of course he blabbed, thinking he’d get a lighter sentence. And now I can’t use him anymore, which is too bad. He had so much potential.”
She recognized the name. That was the man who had somehow gotten Annette pregnant. Was he also the one who told the FBI that AQD was
planning on bombing the Genome Database? She closed her eyes trying to clear her thoughts. “So, what was that place?” she asked.
“Like I said, it’s an emergency medical suite. If there was ever a natural disaster and people were using the old subway for shelter, the EMS is there to treat anyone who’s hurt or needs medical attention.”
He switched so easily between charming and charismatic to absolutely insane, she wasn’t sure whether she could believe a single word that came out of his mouth. She would have to check if EMSs were really a thing when she got home.
“You don’t think you can trust me,” he observed. “I’ll admit, I haven’t made it easy.”
She let out a single laugh. “You could say that.”
He set down his teacup and said, “Let me tell you a story. I had a really good friend. He was an amazing man: top of the class in school, owned his own successful business, athletic, smart, real Renaissance man. And, he was an excellent father. Had a baby boy with his wife. When his son was born, he went through with the whole sterilization business. He loved his kid with every fiber of his being.
“He was watching the baby one day while his wife was at work. He was about to start cooking dinner when he realized they were all out of eggs. The grocery store was right down the road, and it was a nice day out. He had one of those child seats on his bicycle, so he buckled in the baby, and they rode to the store.
“Apparently, bicycles painted in a reflective color are hard for self-driving cars to detect, and when he rode through an intersection, a turning car smashed right into them. Sent the child seat flying.” Aiden paused. His brown eyes were glossy.
He was staring straight ahead. He took a deep breath and continued. “A social worker, probably a nice woman like yourself, told him he couldn’t reverse the sterilization procedure. He already had his one chance. Even though his baby is longer with us, he wouldn’t be able to have another one. He would never get the chance to raise his son, go to his graduation, wedding, or see him have a child of his own.”
Aiden looked Irene in the eye. “He was a shell of a man after that. He was too depressed to work and sold his company. His wife left him. He had nothing left to live for.”
“That’s so awful,” Irene said. She was being sincere. She had been on the giving side of those conversation so many times. The heartbreak of parents who lost their only child was unfathomable. She couldn’t imagine how awful it must have felt.
“He’s the reason I started AQD. It was the only thing I could think of to help. The world lost an amazing soul, and the most I could do was make sure that the best men, those with the highest-quality DNA, would know they have progeny out there somewhere, no matter what happens in their personal lives.”
“What happened to your friend?” she asked.
“He killed himself about a year after he lost his son.”
Irene had nothing to say. She looked up from her cup to Aiden. She still thought he was crazy, but at least understood his motivation after losing a good friend.
After a long pause, she broke the silence. “I’m not a mole. I just want to help.”
“I know,” he said. He placed his hand over hers and gave it a light squeeze. “And I want to help you.”
Irene bit her lip. She didn’t want his help.
··OOO··
Jamie was still trying to figure out the sonogram software on her device. She sat on the edge of the bed wearing only a tank top and panties. Pressing her device against her hip where she thought her ovary would be, she said, “Start scan.”
“Unable to capture image.” She let out an exasperated sigh.
Since the second Irene had left for her Saturday run, Jamie had been trying to figure this out. She wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to hide ovulation tracking from her wife. Every time she brought up anything to do with having a baby, Irene’s mood would sour. Jamie was determined to make this happen, with or without Irene’s help.
“Troubleshooting,” she said.
“For best results, try laying down. SonoSolo cannot capture images through clothing.”
Jamie laid down on the bed and pushed down one side of her panties. She placed her device on her hip and said again, “Start scan.”
“Scanning now, please wait. Scan finished.” She lifted her device and glanced at the display. She had no idea what she was looking at. The booklet Aiden had given her was on the bedside table. Grabbing it, she leafed through the pages. Somewhere, there were images of follicular phase ovaries and the growing follicles which indicated ovulation would come soon. She looked at the grainy black and white picture in the booklet and compared it to the gray image on her device. It was hopeless. They looked nothing alike.
She should have sprung for the special fertility ultrasonic imaging software. It cost a lot, but it automatically read results from the image. It would tell her where to move the device to get the clearest scan, then would read off what phase her cycle was in, and when she could expect ovulation.
In the bathroom, she had the testing strips she bought at the drugstore which would detect the hormones in her urine and favorability of her cervical mucus. She got up and went to the bathroom, taking her device and booklet with her.
As she was trying to collect different fluids, she heard Irene come back. She was almost done. She fed the first strip into her device. “Check LH surge,” she said quietly.
“Results in one minute.”
Irene must have overheard her device, because she knocked on the door. “Everything okay in there?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jamie said loudly enough to be heard through the door. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
She stared intently at her device, waiting for the timer to finish. “Baseline recorded.” Baseline? What the heck did that mean? She looked up LH again in the booklet. It said something about levels going up and down. Couldn’t it just tell her yes or no? It was all so confusing. She threw all the used strips in the trash and hid the rest in the cabinet under the sink before coming out to check on Irene.
··OOO··
Jamie walked around the gallery space, getting an idea of how many pieces she’d need for her upcoming show, and where she’d put them. The gallery was currently closed between showings. No one was booked for the next few weeks, and soon it would be her turn to show off her work.
There was a sharp knocking at the door. She turned to find the source of the sound and saw Aiden standing there.
“Hey there,” she said after unlocking the glass door and opening it to let him in. The sound of rain echoed through the empty space. He didn’t have an umbrella or hood covering his head, so water droplets fell straight onto his brown hair and dripped down his brow. “Oh my goodness, you’re soaked. Come in. Come in.”
“I don’t think I should,” he said.
She realized he didn’t have his normal genial smile on his face. Instead, he wore a serious expression. “Nonsense, I insist,” she said.
He didn’t budge. “I can’t do it.”
It was the worst possible thing he could say. “Come in out of the rain. We can talk about this inside.”
He finally stepped in, a puddle forming around him on the marble floor. He looked at her, his eyes pleading. “I can’t do it,” he reiterated.
“Let’s get you dried off,” she said, still ignoring what he had said. She helped him slip off his coat and draped it over the front desk. There was comfortable seating in the back and paper towels in the restroom to soak up all the water. “Follow me.”
She led him through the main gallery to the back, his footsteps squishing behind her. They passed through the open doorway that marked the ladies’ restroom. This first room before the restroom proper was set up as a lounge with plush seating and a nice vanity in the corner.
There was a throw blanket on one of the sofas. She grabbed it and handed it to Aiden. “Why don’t you use this to dry off.” He dabbed his face with the blanket then wiped it through his hair before taking a s
eat at the edge of the sofa. He planted his elbows on his knees and covered his face with his hands.
Jamie sat next to him and rubbed his back with her hand. “Tell me what’s going on,” she said.
“I can’t do it. All I’ve ever wanted was to raise my own child. I can’t give you a baby.”
“You’d be involved in your child’s life,” she said. “Our child’s life. I mean, you’re Irene’s boss. You’ll always be around.”
He looked at her. “You want a baby that you and Irene can raise. A perfect little family of three. I won’t ever get to be a daddy.”
She couldn’t tell if it was rainwater still dripping down his face or if he was crying. Jamie wanted a baby so bad, she was willing to do just about anything to make it happen. But more than that, she felt his pain.
“I know how you feel,” she said. “It’s just not enough to know your kid is out there somewhere. You want to love someone, mold them, teach them all the silly little things a person needs to learn. Play catch in the park. Help them with their homework and science fair projects.”
He sobbed into his hands. Instead of calming him down, she had gotten him more worked up. “I do. I want it all.”
She rubbed his back as he regained his composure. He continued, “I’ve always wanted to pass down everything I love to a child. To see my baby, with similar features to mine, sleeping peacefully in my arms. You’re so wonderful, talented, and beautiful, I wanted to give you everything you desire, but I can’t.”
He looked at her. She could see the pain behind his eyes. All she wanted to do was bring him some comfort. She combed his wet hair back with her fingers. “You’ll have it all,” she promised.
“You don’t know that,” he said.
She leaned forward and kissed him briefly. His lips were wet and cold from the rain. She leaned back and bit her lip. He still looked sad. “I want it all, too,” she confessed.
“And you’ll get it,” he said. “In time.”
She could feel tears pricking the back of her eyes, but this wasn’t her moment to be sad. Ever since he had been at her apartment, removing her implant, she had fallen in love with the idea of him fathering her child. Maybe, what she had actually fallen in love with was him.
