My Sister's Child

by Caroline Finnerty

  The rain had stopped and the sky was now washed clean. The clouds had started to part, permitting slanted sunbeams to rush in through the gaps. Isla took a deep breath, climbed the three steps leading up to Vera’s house and pressed the doorbell. She waited a minute and was just about to press it again when Vera answered the door. She was wearing a tracksuit and she had a muslin cloth slung over her shoulder. Isla didn’t think she had ever seen her wearing a tracksuit before.

  “Hey, you,” Isla said, hugging her warmly. “Congratulations!”

  She followed Vera inside and into the living room where she led her over to a Moses basket in the corner. They both peered in at Jules who was sleeping soundly, his two fists balled on either side of his head.

  “He’s beautiful,” Isla whispered. “I won’t disturb him.”

  Vera cleared packets of wipes and nappies from the sofa and Isla sat down. Isla noticed that the usually immaculate room was littered with baby paraphernalia of all sorts. There was a pile of soiled vests, tiny babygros and bibs in the middle of the floor. Muslin cloths were draped over chairs. A breast pump lay upended and bottle lids were scattered all over the coffee table.

  “So how’s it all going?”

  “It’s okay. I’m tired but I expected that. I know it sounds ridiculous, considering I spent so much time being pregnant and thinking of this little baby, but I don’t think I gave any time to thinking about how we would actually care for the baby. I never knew someone so small could create so much work.”

  “You’ll be fine, Vera. It’s a huge adjustment. I doubt anyone can ever imagine what it’s going to be like when the baby is born. I don’t think anyone can ever be truly ready.”

  When Jules woke a few moments later with a small mewing cry, Vera hopped up and lifted him out.

  “Do you want a hold?”

  “I’d love to.”

  Vera placed her baby in Isla’s arms while she went into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. As Isla breathed him in, he smelt of powder and warm milk. Tears sprang into her eyes.

  “Oh my goodness, what’s wrong, Isla?” Vera said when she came back into the living room holding a tray.

  “I’m sorry, Vera, it’s nothing.”

  “Well, it can’t be just nothing if it has you in tears!” She made room for the tray on the coffee table and set it down. Then she reached for a muslin cloth to give to Isla before realising what she was doing and instead reached for a tissue from a box on the coffee table. “Sorry – baby brain!”

  “It’s just silly, stupid stuff – sorry, I’m so embarrassed,” Isla said, dabbing at her eyes.

  “What is it, Isla?”

  “Well, I went for some tests recently – fertility tests.”

  “And?”

  “And, it seems I’m going through early menopause.”

  “Oh, Isla, I’m so sorry about that.” Vera bent down and hugged her.

  “Hey, you’re squashing the baby!” Isla said, laughing through her tears.

  Vera sat down and gazed at Isla. “Were you hoping to have a child?”

  “That’s the funny thing – I’m not even really in a relationship but recently . . . oh, I don’t know . . . it’s like it was all I could think about . . . I had this crackpot-crazy idea to go it alone, y’know?”

  “You mean you were going to use a donor?”

  Isla nodded.

  “Wow! Go, you! I was reading an article about it in one of the medical journals recently actually – there was a name for it, oh, what was it again . . . oh yeah . . . Single Mothers by Choice is what the women in the article called themselves. I have to say I really admire women that do that because they haven’t met the right guy or whatever.”

  “Well, it’s not going to happen for me now so I just need to push the idea out of my head again as ridiculously as it came into my head in the first place.”

  “Oh, Isla, I’m so sorry to hear that, I really am.” Vera reached out and placed her hand over Isla’s and gave it a squeeze.

  Isla went quiet for a minute before continuing. “I always swore I would never speak about this but do you remember when I told you that Ryan and Jo were having difficulty conceiving a baby?”

  “Yeah, I remember – they had to go through several rounds of IVF to have Réiltín.”

  “Well, I helped them actually.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I donated my eggs to Jo.”

  “Oh my god!” Vera’s hands flew up to her mouth. “So you . . . it’s you who is Réiltín’s biological mother?”

  Isla nodded. “Genetically, I am, yes, but I don’t think of her like that –”

  “God, that was very generous of you, Isla.” Vera exhaled loudly and started fiddling with the cross on her chain.

  “To be honest, it wasn’t a big deal at the time.” Isla shrugged her shoulders. “She was going through an awful time and I wanted to help her.”

  “I don’t know if I could do that. It’d be like having another child out there, y’know? I think I’d keep looking at it wondering if it looked like me or something!”

  “I suppose if I’m honest, sometimes I do. I recognise certain mannerisms or something she does will feel really familiar, almost like déjà vu, but I don’t think of her as my child.”

  “Does Réiltín know?”

  “No, of course not. And please don’t tell anyone at all about it. No one knows except Jo, Ryan and me.”

  “I won’t.”

  Isla leant forward and lowered her voice. “There was another embryo left over from the treatment and Jo still has it in storage.”

  “Okaaaaay . . .”

  “I asked her for it.”

  “What? You ask her for the embryo?” Vera spluttered and dribbled a small bit of coffee down her chin. She wiped it quickly with the back of her hand. “Sorry.”

  “Well, why not?”

  “Oh God, because . . . I don’t know . . . it’s an embryo, Isla!”

  “But it was conceived using my eggs! And Jo is never going to be using it. You know she had a hysterectomy.”

  “But isn’t it all a bit mixed up? I mean firstly you donated your eggs to her and she had a baby but then you want the embryo back that was made using Ryan’s sperm?”

  “Maybe, but I really want to have a baby and this might be the only way that I can. There’s an egg or an embryo or whatever that is genetically mine hanging out in a lab somewhere – doesn’t it make sense to use it?” The baby started to cry and Isla held him out to Vera. “I think he wants his mammy.”

  Vera lifted him out of Isla’s arms and planted a kiss on his forehead. He snuggled into her chest and started to nuzzle for her breast.

  “I suppose . . . how did she react?”

  “Not good. We had a huge row actually.”

  “Oh, Isla, I’m sorry. Is this really the only way that you can have a baby? Isn’t there another way?”

  “This is it – last chance saloon.”

  “Well, maybe she’ll calm down in a few days?” Vera said hopefully but Isla knew that she thought she was crazy asking Jo for the embryo.

  “I’m not so sure. Maybe though.”

  The baby was growing angry and red-faced, his mouth opening for a feed, rooting for Vera’s breast. Vera pulled down her track-suit zip, fumbled about inside and pulled a breast out. She looked distracted as she struggled to latch him on but he kept turning his head the wrong way and just grew more fractious.

  “Look, I’d better go,” Isla said. “He looks hungry.”

  “But you’ve only just got here!” Vera protested.

  “I know, but I have to meet someone.”

  Vera looked at her doubtfully. “Okay . . . well, it was nice to see you. Thanks for calling, Isla.”

  They got up and walked out to the door.

  Isla stood down onto the step. Jules was screaming in protest now. “He’s gorgeous, Vera. Take care of yourself.”

  “You too, Isla, and I just want to say, what you did for Jo, n
ot just anybody would do that. It is one of the most generous gestures I’ve ever heard of.”

  Chapter 21

  A Slap

  Several days went past without Jo or Isla making contact with each other. Usually when something didn’t work out for Isla or it required a degree of effort to be made, she would walk away from it but she knew that she wasn’t ready to give up on the chance to have a baby yet. As long as there was an embryo there, there was still a chance – she just had to make Jo see it. Even though she had never been persistent with anything in her life before, she knew that she had to give it another shot. Isla knew Jo better than anyone and she wasn’t hopeful that she would change her mind but she couldn’t give up now. She decided she would call over to Jo again and try to talk to her, even though she was dreading facing her. If it was anything else, she would have left it alone but it was just too important to her and she wasn’t ready to let it go just yet.

  When Jo pulled back the heavy wooden door a few days later, her welcome for Isla was less than enthusiastic. She swung around on her heel and walked briskly down the tiled hallway and into the kitchen. Isla followed after her, walking past the artwork which hung in the hallway, including the painting that she had done for them when they had first bought their house because she had been too broke to buy them a proper gift. Isla instantly knew by Jo’s actions that she hadn’t softened over the last few days. Absence had not made the heart grow fonder. Isla took off her jacket and hung it over the back of one of the chairs around the table. The house felt cool.

  “Catching up on some work?” she asked, nodding towards the orderly piles of paper that covered the kitchen table.

  “Just trying to get a bit done while Réiltín is at rehearsals,” Jo replied brusquely in a tone that implied Isla was disturbing her. “Can I get you a coffee?”

  “Yeah, that’d be lovely.” Isla took off her parka and hung it over the back of a chair. “Is Ryan not home yet?”

  “No, he’s working late.”

  Isla waited while Jo busied herself with the hissing machine. Eventually a mug was set down in front of her on the table. Jo didn’t make a mug for herself or offer biscuits like she usually would. She stayed standing, making Isla wish that she hadn’t sat down. It was obvious by Jo’s manner that she wasn’t in the mood for sisterly niceties; she wanted Isla to get straight to business.

  Isla took a deep breath, knowing that this conversation was doomed before it had even begun. “So did you get a chance to think about things any more?”

  “Oh, Isla, for God’s sake! I thought we were finished with that! I’ve already told you my decision. I’m sorry but there’s no way that I can give you that embryo.”

  “But it was made using my egg – it’s half of me!”

  “And half of Ryan!”

  “Is that what this is about – you think it’s going to be like me having a child with Ryan?”

  “Well, in a way, yes! But there are just so many other issues with it.”

  “Like what? Give me one of them.”

  “Well, for starters, I think it could increase the chances of Réiltín discovering how she was conceived. What if she notices? What if she saw that the baby looked like her and she noticed that they were related? It’s not just an embryo, Isla – it’s her brother or sister!”

  “Isn’t that a bit far-fetched? She wouldn’t notice and, even if they did look alike, she’d just think that any similarities were because they were cousins.”

  “Well, another reason is because it would be half Ryan’s child as well and that’s not fair on him. It’s not just my decision – it would be Ryan’s too.”

  “Come on, we both know that Ryan will go with whatever you decide like he always does.”

  “You’re putting me in an awful position, Isla, don’t you see that?” Jo began to pace around the kitchen.

  Isla felt anger awaken inside herself. She had to fight for this. “How can you say that? I gave you my eggs and you made two embryos, one of which grew into Réiltín and the other is sitting in a lab somewhere! That’s what I’m asking you for – an embryo that is already a part of me, which you are never going to use. When I donated my eggs to you, I just wanted you to be happy. I would have done anything to help you and bring you out of that awful place you were in. I would have done whatever it took to fix the problem because you’re my sister and I just wanted to see you happy again. I didn’t have to think twice about it – it was the easiest decision I’ve ever made. Why can’t you do that for me?”

  “Because it’s not the same thing. You didn’t go through the nightmare of trying to get pregnant only to be told that it just wasn’t going to happen!”

  “Oh, so I haven’t earned my infertility stripes, is that what you mean?”

  “Look, you’re in a very different place to where we were, Isla. You just decided on a whim: ‘Oh I’m nearly forty, maybe I should think about having a baby!’”

  “I don’t think it’s that different actually. Okay, I know I’ve only been trying to get pregnant for a short while but still I feel all those same desires that you did.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m still not going to change my mind.”

  “So that’s it then? You’re going to make a huge decision that affects my ability to have a child, a decision that changes the whole outcome of my life because you’re not comfortable with it?”

  “I’m sorry, Isla, I really am. Look, you could try and get a donor embryo? I could put you in touch with Dr Collins and see what he says? I’m sure we could arrange something for you.”

  “I don’t want a donor embryo!” Her voice was climbing higher and she could hear there was an emotional edge to it. “There is a child out there who is genetically half mine and that’s the one I want. I don’t want anyone else’s eggs or embryos. I just want that one, Jo. That one. That’s all that I want.”

  “Why do you always have to be so difficult? Why can you never just do things without any trouble? Ever since you were born, every single thing that you have ever done has had a drama associated with it.”

  And there it was, Isla thought. The age-old low blow was thrown in: whenever Isla expresses her opinion or gets upset about something, just whack her over the head with it.

  “I’m not causing a drama – I just want a baby. There’s an embryo in storage somewhere that is half mine –”

  “It’s not ‘half yours’ – stop saying that – you know you gave up all rights to that egg with the act of donation. You spoke to the counsellor, you signed the forms – you knew the drill!”

  “Well, it is, Jo, whether you like it or not – it’s half mine and I really, really want to have a child of my own.”

  “You’re putting me in a very unfair position, Isla. It’s not fair of you to ask me to do that.”

  “It’s a gift, just like I gave you a gift.”

  Jo took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Isla – but I can’t.”

  “Are you going to deny me that opportunity when I helped you to conceive a baby – does that sit easily with you?”

  “Of course I’m not trying to deny you anything but why does it have to be that baby?”

  “Because that baby is the only chance I have to have a biological child of my own.”

  “But why are you so fixed on having your own egg? I didn’t have my own!”

  “Is that what this is about? You don’t want me to be able to have a genetic child because you are not Réiltín’s biological mother? You don’t want your younger sister getting one up on you?”

  Jo’s hand shot out and the next thing Isla felt was a sharp stinging, which spread its way out across her cheek. “She is my daughter, no matter how she was conceived! She is my child!”

  Isla stood there momentarily dazed. She raised her hand up to her cheek, which was tender to the touch.

  “I think you should go now,” Jo said, handing her her parka.

  A stunned Isla took the coat from her and walked down the hall towards
the front door. She placed her hand on the doorknob before stopping and turning around to face Jo who was standing in the kitchen doorframe watching her leave.

  “What you’re doing to me, Jo . . . you know it’s not right . . .”

  Then she pulled open the door and walked out into the fresh air.

  After Isla had gone, Jo opened the fridge and poured herself a large glass of Pinot Grigio. And then cried. She hated the way that Isla did that to her. She pushed her to her outermost limits until suddenly she snapped out of sheer frustration. Whenever Jo looked at friends of hers or at the other girls in the office, their relationships with their sisters seemed to be so much more loving and supportive of each other. They were friends first and foremost and sisters second.

  With her and Isla it was an endless clash. They could not be more different as people and yet when she thought back to their childhood, they had once been really close. They would lie curled up together in bed every night. They had clung to each other whenever their mum was having a bad day. No one else would ever understand what they went through together, the greys and blacks of their childhood, but sometimes the yellows too. Jo just wished they were closer; she wished they weren’t such polar opposites. They were like opposing poles on the magnetic spectrum, irresistibly drawn together on one side, yet pushing each other apart on the other.

  When Ryan came home that evening a pale-faced Jo was sitting in silence on the sofa with no TV on. She was more than halfway through a bottle of wine.

  “What’s wrong? Is everything okay? Where’s Réiltín?”

  “At rehearsals. She’s getting a lift home.” She looked at him. “You’ll never guess what just happened.”

  “What?”

  “Isla came over and starting going on about that bloody embryo again. She’s not going to let it go. I’m so angry with her. Look at what she’s started!”

  Ryan linked his fingers together and moved his arms up over his head to stretch. His knuckles cracked. Jo shuddered.

  “What happened?” he asked.