I phoned Angie next. I didn’t mention anything about Katya or going dancing the night before. If I was to come clean about what a fool I was, I’d better do it in person. Angie was on a deadline but, hearing about my bleeding, offered right away to come over. It took me a while to reassure her I didn’t need any help. But as soon as I put the phone down, I felt strangely alone in the apartment. Even Plato was gone, sleeping somewhere out of sight. There was a stillness, a heavy fog that enshrouded me. The silence only magnified the loud chatter in my head.
I opened the piano—a Schiller upright my mother had given me when I’d moved to New York—and began playing a Bach sonata in an attempt to quiet my mind. My hands moved seamlessly, as if of their own accord. Playing was meditative for me. It was the only steady thread in my life. It felt like returning home, traveling back to my childhood when the days were sunnier, the jokes funnier, and mastering the skill to play a simple piece of music was intoxicating. Until my mother’s ambitions had kicked in and spoiled it. I glanced reproachfully at her portrait among the photos on top of the piano and continued playing.
I was on the third movement when my phone rang on the bookshelf next to me. Finally, I thought, and reached for it. But it was Tyler’s sister. I hesitated. Sam and I had always liked each other. So much so that Tyler often joked that if it weren’t for me, they would hardly see each other. I picked up.
“I don’t know what’s going on between you and Tyler,” Sam began, “but I hope that the two of us can still—”
“I sure hope so,” I said, relieved she wasn’t calling to advocate on his behalf. I wouldn’t have expected it from her, but you never know. As my mother loved to say, Blood doesn’t turn into water.
“I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position,” Sam continued, “and I don’t want to meddle . . . Why don’t we just say we don’t mention my brother, okay?”
I laughed. “Thank you. That might be best.”
“I’ve missed you. And so have the girls. They keep asking about Auntie Lana.” Just picturing their adorable little faces made me smile. “You want to come over for lunch next Sunday?”
“Don’t you have the book club in the morning?”
She sighed. “Not going this week. Steve’s away and our babysitter can’t make it.”
“Why don’t I look after them and you go? We can have lunch ready by the time you come back.”
She hesitated. “I’m sure you have things to do.”
“Don’t be silly. You know I’d drop anything to spend time with those two angels.”
After we ended the call, I resumed playing. The prospect of seeing Sam and the girls in a week loosened the tight knot in my belly.
Five minutes later, the phone rang again. I grabbed it, sure that this time it was Katya. Instead, Tyler’s name flashed on the screen. The man I was supposed to grow old with. The man whose child I was carrying in my womb. I had tried to push him out of my mind, but it was proving harder than I’d thought. Especially on a day like this, when more than anything I craved snuggling in his arms, having him whisper in my ear that everything would be okay. I didn’t have to believe it. I just needed to hear his soft reassuring voice that made all my fears go away.
The call went to voice mail after the fifth ring and I put the phone back on the shelf next to me, strangely disappointed. I needed more time to decide whether I wanted to speak with him.
He had left me. What more was there to say? Unless he’d somehow learned about the pregnancy. Only Angie and Katya knew so far. But I wouldn’t be able to hide it much longer. If I was lucky and all went according to plan, I’d start showing soon. Tyler would find out one way or another. People talk. Someone would mention something: I ran into Lana the other day. So happy to see her finally pregnant. Would Tyler put two and two together? Could he force me to terminate the pregnancy when he finally found out?
The phone rang again and I snatched it off the shelf. Tyler. I was tempted. I didn’t have to mention the pregnancy, the bleeding, or my fears about it. My finger hovered over the Talk button before I finally pressed it. “What do you want, Tyler?”
“Oh, hi . . . I didn’t expect you to pick up,” he said, sounding confused and uncertain.
The familiarity of his voice gutted me. I squeezed my eyes shut till it hurt. “What’s up?”
“Just making sure you’re okay.”
I opened my eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“I don’t know . . . It’s been nearly a month since we . . .”
“Since you left me, you mean?”
I could hear him swallow on the other end. “I just miss you and wanted to—”
“You don’t expect me to comfort you, do you?”
“Even I know better than that,” he said, deadpan, and I chuckled despite myself. Tyler was a brilliant scholar but he could be clueless about basic social norms and interactions. I used to love teasing him that he was the stereotypical philosophy professor, sauntering through life with his head in the clouds. “No,” he continued. “I was just wondering how you’re doing.”
I almost fell for it. His soft, guttural intonation, his concern about how I was. As if he’d simply gone away for a few days, to a conference out of town, and was calling to say hi and check in on me. Then his packed duffle bag flashed in front of my eyes, his stony expression when he’d walked out on me.
“Believe it or not,” I said, snapping out of my brief nostalgia, “I’m doing just fine. You can go ahead and enjoy your new life guilt-free.” I hung up. And your new girl, I mentally added. There had to be a new girl. He wouldn’t just leave like that. He was a good man. I’d never thought of him as the bachelor type, the guy who liked to keep his options open. If anything, Tyler was more into nesting than I ever was. He’d asked me to marry him three times despite knowing my feelings about marriage.
I’d replayed the scene of his departure on Good Friday over and over in my mind. There was so much I wished I had said to him that night. Questions I’d asked. But I’d been so unprepared, I’d frozen.
I still had a hard time believing he’d left me in the middle of our donor egg cycle. We’d had a good relationship. Maybe not perfect but good enough.
I buried my face in my hands, the pain of losing Tyler hitting me with full force all these weeks later.
Before I went to bed in the evening, I checked my phone again in case I hadn’t heard it ring. It was 11:00 p.m. Still not a peep from Katya.
13.
TYLER
THEN
I was in the grocery store when she called. It was the second week of January; the neighborhood seemed deserted with most students gone for the break. Snow had started falling an hour ago, big fat flakes swirling in the halos of streetlamps and car lights. One of those mega storms that threatened to shut New York down at least once every winter. More than a foot of accumulation by morning, disruption of the subways, people unable to show up at work. Having lived in the city for more than ten years, I knew that most of these blizzards never fully materialized. Still, I decided to get some provisions on my way home from the university. Just to play it safe. I wasn’t the only one. The tiny aisles of the store, which couldn’t have been much bigger than our apartment, were packed with people, bundled up in puffer coats and hats. It was hard to pass through.
I was reaching for Plato’s favorite Crave Salmon Paté when I felt the phone buzz in my pocket. I was tempted to ignore it, but it occurred to me that Lana might need me to buy her something and I sure didn’t feel like going out again on a night like this. I didn’t recognize the number, but I’d already gone through the trouble of unzipping my coat and pulling the phone out, so I answered it.
“Hi, my name is Katya and I’m calling about the donor ad,” said a woman on the other end.
I nearly dropped the phone. It had been a month already and I’d given up hope of anyone responding.
“Oh, hi,” I said, and looked around guiltily, scanning the place for familiar faces. “Hold on a moment, let me go someplace quiet.” I abandoned my basket on the floor by some crates of oranges and headed straight for the door. “There, that’s better. Can you hear me?” I said as I walked outside. Traffic was light on Broadway. People had heeded the advice not to drive into the city today.
“Yes, I hear you great.” Her voice was clear. Youthful. Full of excitement. Her accent barely noticeable.
“So you’re Bulgarian?”
“Yes, I am.”
“And you’re interested in becoming an egg donor?” I zipped up my coat, brushed the snow off my hair with my free hand.
She giggled. “That’s why I’m calling.”
“Wonderful. What did you say your name was?”
“Katya.”
Pretty name, I thought as my eyes followed a white fluffy dog in a red coat and matching boots scampering past me, pulling hard on its leash. “Katya, why don’t we meet in person and discuss the details? I’m sure you’d like to know about the money and what being an egg donor involves, et cetera.”
“That would be great.” She hesitated for a moment before continuing, “I’m quite curious—why exactly do you want a Bulgarian donor?”
I laughed, kicking some snow with my foot. “Yeah, well. The thing is, my partner’s Bulgarian and would like the baby to have the same genes,” I said, leaving out the fact that it was her mother actually who was Bulgarian.
Katya seemed to like that and said she was really excited about helping us out. We arranged to meet the next day at the Hungarian Pastry Shop. My suggestion. After all, that was where the idea to look for a donor on campus was born.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Tyler,” she said, pronouncing my name slowly, with care, as if it were a new flavor of ice cream she was trying.
I put the phone in my pocket, feeling like a kid who’d just been told he’s going to Disneyland. I was dying to call Lana and tell her the good news. But I knew she’d be pissed I’d gone behind her back, ignoring her wishes. I couldn’t risk Lana turning down this girl. Who knew how long it would take to find another? Instead, I phoned Rachel, who was in St. Paul for the break.
“I got a call!” I nearly pumped my fist in excitement. “Her name’s Katya and I’ll meet her tomorrow.”
“Great,” Rachel said. “How are you going to tell Lana about it?” I’d eventually shared with her Lana’s reaction to the flyer idea.
I shook the snow off my boots, kicking first one heel and then the other against the curb.
“I won’t,” I said, and with a smile on my face, I walked back into the store to collect my groceries.
14.
LANA
NOW
“It’s been a week already.”
“She could be studying for finals,” Angie said.
We were walking down 86th Street after our prenatal yoga class. It was a warm Sunday with big puffy clouds moving fast across the sky. One of those rare moments in New York when nobody seemed to be rushing home. People lingered outside, neighbors chatting in front of building entrances, parents with kids talking to other parents in the middle of the sidewalk, their bulky double strollers blocking the way, friends having brunch in outdoor cafés, dog walkers waiting patiently while strangers leaned to pet their puppies. I should have been relaxed after the yoga; instead, I felt edgy and unsettled.
“I don’t know. I’m starting to worry. What if something happened to her?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s a college kid. Between studying and partying, she’s got no time for you.”
“I’d understand if I hadn’t told her about my blood scare. Fine. But a quick note to make sure I’m okay would take her all of a minute.”
“You never should have gone clubbing with her,” Angie said. “What were you thinking?”
“Who said I was thinking?” I hadn’t even told Angie about the candle incident.
“I still can’t believe you ran into your donor. On the subway, of all places.”
“She’s a Columbia student, for Chrissake. I’m surprised it didn’t happen earlier. We had no idea she was still in school, let alone in our neighborhood. All she wrote on her application forms was that she had a BA from an Ivy League university. I know it’s a matter of a few months, and maybe she thought that by the time she got picked as a donor she would have already graduated, but still . . . she just seems like such a flake. I mean, she lies on her donor application; she shows up unannounced at work and expects me to take her around the Met; she calls only when it suits her.” I stopped and looked at Angie. “I hope it’s not genetic.”
Angie put her hand on my shoulder. “Of course it’s not. She’s just a beautiful girl who’s used to everyone dancing to her tune. Literally, in your case.” She began laughing. Angie had a bubbly laugh—sweet and addictive like champagne.
“Very funny,” I said, and resumed walking. She was right. What was I doing hanging out with some college kid? I had plenty of mature friends. Like Angie, who was also single and pregnant after a long battle with infertility and knew what I was going through. But I had to see Katya one more time. I didn’t have to like her or hang out with her. I just had to tell her the truth. That was the deal I’d made with God and I had to get it done even if I had to go looking for her on campus. I couldn’t tell Angie about it, though. She’d think I was foolish. Maybe I was.
“You sure you didn’t make her up?” Angie said, the fizz fading out of her voice. “It sounds too good to be true. Even people who decide to meet their donors don’t exactly go out eating or dancing together. I mean, you just met her and boom”—she snapped her fingers—“you’re now best friends?”
“You jealous?”
“What if I am?”
Two mothers with strollers walked past us, seemingly returning from the park. Angie and I followed them with our eyes.
“Will we ever be so lucky?” I said.
“Just wait. I give us three months before we’re sick of listening to each other babbling about diapers.”
We laughed, the image so sweet I didn’t want to let go, savoring it like the first bite into a luscious peach.
The ring of my phone pulled me back into reality. “Damn!” I said, looking at the screen.
“Is it her?”
I shook my head. “My mother. I’ve been avoiding her calls.”
“What happened? I thought you two were close.”
“She’s been giving me shit about Tyler as if it was my fault that he left,” I said, my jaw clenching at the memory of our last conversation. “Maybe she’s right. I took him for granted, didn’t I? Anyway,” I said, rushing to change the topic. “How’s it going with Funny Guy?”
Angie had met him online and had been calling him Funny Texter until they’d finally had a date in person last week. Since then, they’d seen each other a couple of times and she’d sounded quite taken with him. I was hoping she’d found the right one at last. Four years ago, her boyfriend at the time had told her that he didn’t want kids after all, never mind that he’d led her on for two years. She’d gone straight to the fertility clinic and started trying on her own.
Angie frowned. “Funny Guy is no more. He’s Gone Guy.” She laughed but I could hear her disappointment. I stopped and stared at her. “He wasn’t interested in starting a relationship with a pregnant woman,” she said and shrugged mockingly as if to say, Go figure. “How about your secret admirer? Have you finally seen what he looks like?”
I had to laugh. “He abandoned me, too. First Tyler, then Katya, then Peter Bogdin.”
* * *
I stood in front of Sam’s door trying to gather the courage to ring her bell. Sam was gracious and generous, with an easy warm smile. She liked to make fun of me for watching what I ate or worrying about how to dress. Clearly, s
he hadn’t been criticized growing up the way I’d been. I often thought that Sam and I would have been friends even if she weren’t Tyler’s sister. If we had met, say, at work or yoga or someplace else. But could we keep up a friendship now that Tyler and I were no longer together? And what about the girls?
Chloe was four, two years older than Tessa, and when I finally rang the doorbell, they came running to the door. My heart melted just seeing them.
* * *
When Sam returned from book club, we were on the floor drawing. I was trying my best at an elephant. Chloe knelt next to me watching intently, while Tessa squirmed on my lap reaching for a crayon, then dropping it to get a new one. Sam joined us, twisting her legs in the lotus positon, and began telling me about the latest novel they were reading. She had Tyler’s lopsided smile, his way of looking at you as if you were the most interesting person in the world. But unlike his calm, thoughtful demeanor, Sam was all breathless excitement. The girls interrupted her constantly, but it was my own thoughts that kept me today from following Sam’s recap of the plot. As I inhaled Tessa’s sweet baby smell, I couldn’t help but think of the baby growing inside me. Sam had been a great support during all the treatments, cheering us along the way, giving her brother shit that he had it easy compared to what I was going through. I felt guilty for keeping my news from her. I would have to tell her soon or stop seeing her altogether. I couldn’t imagine doing either.
“So when are you coming back?” Sam asked. “We miss you.”
I’d started that book club nearly a decade ago with friends from my graduate program, and later on, when I’d met Sam and we’d clicked, I’d brought her on board. As my infertility treatments intensified over the years, I began missing meetings and eventually had to let go of the club. But now that Tyler and I were no longer together, Sam must have assumed that that part of my life was over. Was that why she’d brought it up?
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