Family Ties

by Hans M Hirschi

  * * * * *

  Mike

  “She’s going to call again?” Mike could barely believe he’d heard right. He hugged his brother tightly, thankful for whatever he had done.

  “You know what?” Sascha replied, stunned by the sudden display of affection. “I actually don’t think I’ve done anything. Seems to me, Helene had already made up her mind. She just needed a nudge. Understand?” He looked at Mike. “When did you last try to contact her?”

  “Couple of days ago. Called the house. Paul wouldn’t let me talk to her.”

  “But when did you last call her cell phone? Text her? You know that Paul isn’t exactly fond of you.”

  “Listen, bro, I sent her hundreds of texts. She never replied, so eventually, I stopped. I was just hoping that if I spoke to Lotti or even Paul, I could get them to talk some sense into her. But yeah, I know, probably not the smartest move.” Mike was laughing at himself now, clearly seeing that his strategy had been flawed.

  “Now what?” Dan interrupted their little discourse. “You guys need another beer? I sure do.” He got up and walked toward the kitchen.

  “Yeah, I’ll have another,” Mike replied, and Sascha shook his head. “I’m good, hon. I’ll have a coffee in a minute.”

  The mood in this house is changing, Dan figured, as he pulled two fresh bottles of beer from the fridge. It’s not been this upbeat all day. I’m glad. Whatever Sascha said to Helene must’ve done the trick. I’m so proud of him. Dan smiled, his heart warming at the thought of his husband, playing Eros. Then he had to laugh as he imagined a winged Sascha, all naked and chubby, flying and shooting darts at Mike and Helene.

  “What’s so funny?” Sascha asked as he walked into the kitchen.

  “You are,” Dan said and kissed him on the cheek.

  “You are, and I love you!” Sascha was only a bit confused at his husband’s behavior but happy that he instilled such a sense of love in his life partner. Life partner, husband, whatever you want to call what we are. He remembered the phrasing on their marriage certificate. We are not married, not really. We are only registered domestic partners, what a joke, Sascha fumed. I still can’t marry my husband, still cannot adopt my boys.

  Sometimes he cursed his fate of being born Swiss. Had he been Swedish, Danish, or even Spanish, he would have been legally married. Oh, well, it was only a label. We are as married as anyone else, except in our house, you never know who’s wearing the pants, Sascha thought. He made himself an espresso and re-joined Mike and Dan in the living room, where the TV had been turned on to some soccer game.

  My luck. Sascha wasn’t too much into sports, but part of being married to a sports jock who also worked as gym teacher was to pretend to like it, and so he sat down on the couch next to Dan and rested his head on his man’s shoulder. Dan wrapped an arm around Sascha. On the screen, twenty overpaid divas were chasing a round piece of leather, sweating, missing shots at the two remaining men standing guard in front of their respective goal posts.

  Yeah, must be the “El Clàsico,” Real Madrid playing Barcelona, Sascha thought, although he only deduced that from the display. He couldn’t keep teams apart by their jerseys. Where’s my iPad? I could do some reading.

  Sascha yawned, the long day clearly having drained him of his energy. But before he could get up to go search for his iPad, his eyelids got too heavy for him to open, and he dozed off in his husband’s strong arms.

  * * * * *

  Surrogacy

  “Dan, have you ever thought about kids?” Sascha had casually asked one night all those years ago.

  “What do you mean?” Dan looked at his lover, lying next to him in bed, nose buried deeply in yet another psychological paper.

  “You know, kids, become parents, you, me, family. What’s there to understand?” Sascha teased.

  He didn’t lift his head from his paper, although he had stopped reading it a long time before, his mind drifting elsewhere. He was inspired by the paper on rainbow families that was included in this month’s issue of the American Journal of Psychology, detailing that current research had yet to find any long-term adverse effects for children raised in single-sex families.

  Dan shook his head. “We’ve talked about this a million times, Hon, and you know what I think. I don’t feel it’s right for us to bring more children into a world where we can’t feed the ones already here and can’t take proper care of the children in orphanages everywhere. It’s just not right.”

  Dan thought the whole thing was really depressing. Of course he wanted to be a father. Of course he longed to pass on his values and his beliefs to a new generation. He wasn’t different from any other man or woman, but just because he could didn’t mean he had to, right?

  “You know we’re not able to adopt. Hell, we’re barely tolerated as a couple here in Singapore, so why do you have to bring this up now?”

  Sascha wasn’t about to let him off the hook so easily.

  “I’ve been thinking. I know how you feel, and I know we’ve been talking about all the options, but don’t you think it’s unfair to us? Why should we give up on our dreams, our hopes, just because society in general is stuck in the dark ages? Dan, we’ve been together for six years now. I know you. I see you around your students. I know what an amazing parent you will be, and I’ve seen you cry, I’ve seen it, so don’t give me that politically correct bullshit. This isn’t a parent-teacher conference, remember. This is our bed, and I’m your husband.”

  To prove his point, Sascha scooted closer to Dan, so close that their legs touched, sending a small shiver up Dan’s body. Sascha leaned over, climbed on top of his lover, sat on Dan’s legs, took his arms, and pinned him down on the pillow.

  “It’s me, remember? I love you, and I want a child with you. I know you’re ready. I know you have so much love to give, and god, the world could use a few more people running around with your genes.” Sascha laughed, bowed down, kissed Dan passionately, then released his hands.

  Feeling Sascha’s weight on his legs, his dick hanging low onto his own package, Dan couldn’t help but get aroused, and when he saw the earnestness in Sascha’s pleading eyes, the longing in his husband’s face, his resistance started to melt.

  Of course I want kids, of course I do, Dan thought, when Sascha leaned down and kissed him. Having once again control of his arms, Dan wrapped them around Sascha’s back, hugging his man and holding him in a tight embrace as they drifted into passionate lovemaking.

  Afterward, Dan lay on his back, spent, stretched out on the bed, Sascha lying next to him, head on Dan’s shoulder.

  “So, I guess you have a plan,” Dan said, knowing Sascha all too well.

  “Glad you asked.” Sascha bit lightly on one of Dan’s nipples, sucked it, and stroked through his chest hair with his right hand. “I read an article the other day about surrogacy in India. All you have to do is jerk off into a jar, and they’ll do the rest.”

  “Why me? Who says I can even be a father?” Dan countered, fully aware that not all men can become fathers, given the infertility clinics popping up all over the place. “Why me? You could be a dad as well.”

  “I could, sure, but I think, honestly, you have the better genes. Look at me, look at yourself. You’re tall, you’re beautiful. Besides, our side of the family is already taken care of. Mike’s already a father, but you’re the last member of your family, Dan. It would be a shame to let that line come to an end.”

  Sascha’s hand moved slowly down from Dan’s chest, following a narrow trail of blond hair, down to his belly button, circling it, then farther down toward his crotch and the trimmed bush. He cupped Dan’s balls as if trying to make a point.

  “Seriously.” Dan was not impressed, although his dick was once again growing. “You know full well, that genes aren’t important. You’re the one who always tells me about your profession’s ongoing debate about ‘nurture versus nature’ and how you believe that nurture is they key part, about the ninety-nine point nine percent of our D
NA being equal and all that stuff. Now you’re telling me this? You can’t be serious.”

  Sascha propped himself on his left arm. “What do you want me to tell you? That I want you to be the biological father because I love you so much that I would die for you? Daniel Sebastian Miller of Burbank, California, I have never ever been more certain about anything in my life. I want you to father our children. I know you may not see it now, but I know you. I know that somewhere, deep within you, there’s a part that needs and wants this. You may not say it now, but I know you do. If nothing else, will you do it for me?”

  It didn’t really matter what Sascha said. All he cared about was making this man happy, fulfilled, and if a child from him was what it took, then he’d be more than happy to oblige.

  He knows me well enough, Dan thought, I wonder why.

  Over the coming weeks, they contacted several clinics in India, went through extensive testing for sexually transmittable diseases and sperm testing, both of them, just in case Dan had been right, and he really couldn’t have children. But all was well, and both of them were healthy. Eventually, they settled for a small clinic in Mumbai, chose an egg donor and a surrogate, made the initial payments, and traveled to India, where Dan would have to make a small but important sperm donation.

  * * * * *

  The Clinic

  The nondescript room they were shown to was in an average office building in northeast Mumbai, about thirty minutes from the airport and the hotel where they stayed. Since their sole purpose for this trip was to sign the contracts and jerk off into a jar, they didn’t go for anything fancy but opted for the Hilton airport hotel.

  The nurse who led them into the room gave both of them a weary glance, not openly revealing her disapproval of what was most certainly about to transpire in the minutes to come.

  She left them and, before closing the door, said, “Please leave the sample on that table when you’re finished.”

  Alone in the room, Sascha hugged Dan and kissed him. “Are you ready for this?” He grabbed Dan’s crotch through the denim of his jeans.

  “Not sure. This isn’t the most enticing setting to jerk off to.” Dan looked around the room.

  In one corner sat a large black leather chair, the kind of TV chair Dan had seen in so many homes in his native America, but there was no TV set, no carpet, just a vinyl floor and a few cardboard boxes with medical supplies. The blinds had been pulled down, blocking out most of the light from the outside world. The cold neon lamps basked the room in an eerie, sterile light.

  “Come on, honey, sit down, and let me do the rest.”

  Sascha was horny, and this was exactly the kind of environment that got him going. He wanted to pleasure his husband into delivering the sample of a lifetime. They both had abstained from jerking off for several days. Had to be sure they had an ample supply of swimmers for the doctors to work with.

  “Maybe we should both jerk off into the jar, making it a surprise.” Sascha chuckled as he unbuttoned Dan’s jeans and pulled them down over his knees. Then he got to work on the shorts his lover preferred to wear, his junk hanging loosely inside the soft cotton.

  “What? Aren’t you hard yet? I need to fix that.” Sascha was really getting into it now.

  Still unsure and unsettled about the environment, Dan sat in the leather chair, cold to the touch on his now bare buttocks. Sascha was all over his crotch.

  That was when the signal hit Dan’s brain, and he relaxed with a sigh. He let his head drop back against the chair, allowed his husband to do all the work, and enjoyed the ride.

  Once they were finished, Dan looked into the jar Sascha presented him. “That’s all?”

  “Honey, all they need is one good swimmer. Trust me, there’s millions of them in here. Don’t ask me why they brought a container the size of a cookie jar instead of a vial.”

  They left the clinic and returned to their hotel, not talking much. Dan was still uncomfortable from the experience, and Sascha respected that, although he’d had his fun. Sascha had always secretly been a bit of a show-off, an exhibitionist, secretly fantasizing being caught in the act, of the clinic’s nurse or doctor walking in on the two. But none of that had happened.

  Dan, on the other hand, was very private about his sexuality, and when the two had first met, back in Sitges, it had been a struggle for Sascha to persuade him to keep at least one lamp on, to marvel at the beauty by his side. Dan preferred his lovemaking to be in the dark, trusting his other senses to guide him in bed.

  The next day, someone from the clinic called, confirming the viability of the sperm sample and that the eggs harvested from the donor had been fertilized. Within two days, they’d know which of the eggs would actually become zygotes, viable for transplanting into the womb of the surrogate mother. They had been lucky; of the nineteen eggs harvested from their egg donor—a young student who needed the extra cash to fund her PhD studies—eighteen were successfully fertilized. On the fourth day, when Dan and Sascha returned to Singapore, three of the eggs deemed the most promising ones, were transplanted into the surrogate mother. Dan and Sascha embraced when they heard the news.

  “Maybe, maybe,” Sascha said, and kissed Dan repeatedly.

  * * * * *

  Waiting

  The coming weeks were excruciating for them. As with every in vitro treatment, there is no guarantee that the zygotes, the fertilized eggs, will take hold inside the mother’s womb, no guarantee that they’ll survive, thrive, and grow. In Singapore, Dan and Sascha learned more about pregnancies than most women ever would, reading up on various hormones, the anatomy of the female body, and the development of the embryo.

  About two and one half weeks after returning from India, they received the first piece of good news. As it turned out, the beta-hCG hormone test done on the surrogate returned positive results. They were pregnant.

  Sascha was over the moon, jumping up and down in their apartment, hugging his husband, kissing his forehead, happy, happy, happy.

  Dan sat quietly at his laptop, trying to take in the news.

  I’m going to be a father.

  I am going to be a dad.

  * * * * *

  Fatherhood

  Dan needed some time to digest the news. The impact of fatherhood descended on him like a ton of bricks. He felt sick, nauseated at the revelation of what he had done.

  After a couple of days, he had grown used to the heavily weighing feeling of this life-altering sensation, and he allowed himself to be comfortable feeling uncomfortable. He had spoken to his mother in California, who was thrilled at the news of becoming a grandmother, much more so than Sascha’s parents.

  “Don’t expect us to raise that child,” Sascha’s mom had said on the phone.

  Sascha’s dad added, “Why do you always have to make it so hard on us?” Then again, Sascha was used to his parents making it difficult on themselves, struggling with their son being gay. They would come around to it, eventually. He knew that his mother would melt the second she held the little one in her arms, and so would his dad. He just hoped that his mom would still be clear in her mind, clear enough, anyway, to be able to enjoy being a grandmother.

  Five weeks after they had returned from Mumbai, Dan had just returned from work, another e-mail was waiting for him from the clinic. It contained the results of the first ultrasound. Twins.

  * * * * *

  Sascha and Dan

  “Hon? Wake up.” Dan whispered and stroked Sascha’s hair. “Let’s go to bed. It’s getting late.”

  Sascha yawned back in response. “What? Did I fall asleep? Sorry. I just had such a good dream.”

  Sascha got up from his cozy position draped around Dan’s shoulder. Outside, it was raining and dark. The only visible lights were a couple of street lamps shining in the distance.

  “Mike went to bed a little while ago. He said goodnight,” Dan continued, “and I’m tired, too. It’s going to be another long day tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, I’m coming.” Sas
cha picked up his coffee, untouched, and took it, along with a couple of empty beer bottles, out into the kitchen.

  He was running on what? Hormones? No, but he certainly wasn’t fully awake.

  Autopilot, that’s it, he thought.

  They turned off the lights in the living room and went to their bedroom, the old master bedroom where Sascha’s parents had once slept. On the way, they checked in on the boys. The twins were fast asleep, Shane snoring a little, lying on his back, blanket kicked to his feet. Dan walked over to him, kissed him on the forehead, and covered him with the blanket. Pascal slept quietly. Fourteen minutes apart, yet so different.

  Back in their bedroom, Sascha rubbed his face violently with the palms of his hands, trying to wake himself up. Dan had already started to undress and was standing in his boxers, brushing his teeth. The sight of him was breathtaking, and it was the only wake-up call Sascha’s body needed. He walked over to his husband, his best friend, and lover, and hugged him from behind.

  “You smell nice.” He ran his hands all over Dan’s chest and farther down.

  “Shtop, I’m making a mesh,” Dan tried to say, his electric toothbrush buzzing in his mouth. He cracked up and smiled broadly. “I’m ticklish.” He bent forward and pushed Sascha away with his butt.

  “I love you.” Sascha walked over to the other sink and got ready for bed himself.

  “I love you too,” Dan replied, with a quick kiss on Sascha’s cheek. “See you in a minute.” And he was off, leaving Sascha alone in the bathroom.

  When Sascha returned to their bedroom, Dan was already in bed, turned away from him, lying on his side. Quickly, Sascha climbed under the covers and scooted over to lie behind his husband. It was one of the best things he knew, to lie spooned behind Dan, beat only by Dan lying behind him, holding him tightly. They spent a few minutes like that every night, a ritual that had developed between them. Not sleep, just rest, hold each other, feel the love, and, well—see what happened.