Point, Click, Love

by Molly Shapiro

  “Actually, I want to get into microfinance.”

  “Microfinance?”

  “You know, where they give small loans to people in developing countries so they can start businesses or increase their farming productivity and try to break the cycle of poverty.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, I know, sounds crazy …”

  “But it just might work,” said Annie with a smile.

  “Yes, it just might.”

  “I can’t figure you out, Marcus. On one hand, you strike me as incredibly ambitious. On the other, you’ve got this idealistic streak.”

  “Are they mutually exclusive?”

  “I guess not. Or maybe I’ve never seen them coexist like this before.” All wrapped up in such a gorgeous package, thought Annie.

  “Enough about me,” said Marcus. “Let’s talk about you.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “I still can’t figure out how you ended up here.”

  “I can’t either. I was on the same track as all my friends at Horace Mann.”

  “Horace Mann? Really?”

  “Then Yale, Wharton—”

  “Wow. Annie.”

  “Whatever. I mean, I had all the credentials. But for some reason, I was intrigued by the idea of doing something completely different from all my friends.”

  “That’s cool.”

  “Right. But the problem is that my friends were doing the most amazing things. They were becoming artists and government officials and foreign correspondents and CEOs of innovative start-ups. So choosing to do the opposite of my classmates was actually a pretty stupid idea.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Marcus.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah! I mean, the bottom line is you didn’t want to be a sheep and follow everyone else. You wanted to pave your own way, even if that meant taking a more traditional route. But it wasn’t traditional for you. Coming to Kansas City and working for a big corporation—for you that was kind of exotic. Right?”

  “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  “We all need to find our own way,” said Marcus. “And the worst thing you can do is start comparing yourself to others.”

  “How did you get to be so wise, young man?”

  “I’m not so young.”

  “Younger than me.”

  Annie was fine with telling Marcus how old she was but was glad when he didn’t ask.

  “I’m actually pretty cool with living here,” said Annie. “I’ve found some great friends. And it’s a very livable city.”

  “A great place to raise kids,” said Marcus.

  At that, Annie almost choked on her bagel. “Yeah. So I hear.” She hesitated for a second, wondering whether she should remain on the topic of kids. But she decided not to, worried that if things got too heavy too fast, Marcus might get scared away.

  “My favorite place to hang out is the Nelson,” she said.

  “What a great museum!”

  “I know! It’s kind of incredible that it’s here. And they’ve got some amazing stuff,” said Annie. “Sometimes I’ll plop myself down in front of my favorite painting and sit there and stare.”

  “What’s your favorite painting?” asked Marcus.

  “The Caravaggio. John the Baptist.”

  “Too weird. That’s my favorite painting too.”

  Annie smiled to herself but kept a straight face. “I’m not surprised at all.”

  “Me neither. Caravaggio and sable. Makes sense to me.”

  Annie thought how easy it would have been to simply use the information that Marcus had included in his sperm-bank profile to forge common ground. Yet here she was, hitting on obscure things they both loved, and without even trying.

  “It’s weird, Annie. I feel so comfortable with you.”

  “Me too. But you seem like the kind of guy who’s comfortable with everyone.”

  “It’s not that. I’m just very good at making other people feel comfortable.”

  “I see.”

  “Most women I meet …”

  Women he meets? thought Annie. Did Marcus really look at her as a woman rather than as a person who happened to be female?

  “I always feel like they want something from me,” he said.

  Oh, God, thought Annie. He likes me because I don’t want anything from him. Perfect. “What do you mean?” she asked, hoping that perhaps DNA did not fall onto the list of annoying things women wanted from him.

  “Well, I don’t want to sound conceited …”

  “It’s okay, Marcus. I know you’re not conceited.”

  “But I always feel like women want to get together with me … right away. When they hardly know me.”

  “That’s because you’re so handsome,” said Annie, trying to sound disinterested in his appearance.

  “And then when they get to know me, I feel like they just want more.”

  “Like what?”

  “More … more intense.”

  “Marriage?”

  “Yeah, sometimes.”

  “Well, that’s common among women your age. They want to get married. What can I tell you?”

  “You don’t?”

  “No.”

  “Never?”

  “Never.”

  “That’s kind of weird,” said Marcus.

  “I guess,” said Annie. “I came close a few years ago, and when that didn’t work out I think I sort of lost interest.”

  “I see. But you probably shouldn’t rule it out completely.”

  “You’re right. I probably shouldn’t. There you go again, being all wise.”

  “I really like you, Annie,” said Marcus, with a shyness that he seemed unaccustomed to.

  “I like you too!” said Annie spunkily, trying to gloss over the awkwardness and ensure that they were talking only as friends.

  “So the new Charlie Kaufman movie is finally playing here,” said Marcus.

  “I love Charlie Kaufman!”

  “Of course you do,” said Marcus, smiling. “Why don’t we go see it tomorrow night?”

  “It’s a date,” said Annie, immediately regretting her word choice.

  From the beginning, Annie knew what she wanted from Marcus—his sperm. And as outlandish as that might sound in any normal situation, Annie convinced herself that, because Marcus had given freely of his sperm to countless women in the greater metropolitan area, he wouldn’t mind giving some to her, especially if he liked her and respected her as a person. However, Annie was well aware that if Marcus felt more about her—if he was interested in her romantically—giving his sperm would suddenly become more complicated. So there was the difficult balance for Annie: making Marcus like her, but not too much.

  At first, Annie felt confident that she was so out of Marcus’s league that there would be no danger of him falling for her. How could he possibly fall for a woman ten years older than him, not nearly as good-looking, who had settled for a quiet life in the Midwest working for a telecommunications company? But the more they saw each other, the more Marcus seemed to be doing just that. As much as she tried, Annie couldn’t ignore all the “I really like you’s, all the “We have so much in common’s, all the “I’ve never met anyone like you before’s. Getting the attention of a guy like Marcus was flattering, but all it served to do was threaten Annie’s best-laid plans.

  While her feelings about Marcus’s interest were mixed, Annie couldn’t help mentioning it to her mom when she called one Sunday morning.

  “There’s a boy,” she said cryptically. “And he likes me a lot.”

  “Oh, Annie!” her mother practically shouted with joy.

  Annie wondered why she was getting into all this with her mother, but a part of her needed her to know she wasn’t a complete loser after all when it came to men. Besides, in the end her mother had been supportive of her decision to have a child on her own—she was with Annie one hundred percent. Maybe she’d surprise her this time as well.

&n
bsp; “Remember the sperm donor I told you about? The smart, cute one?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, this is him.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s a long story, Mom, but, basically, I tracked him down because I couldn’t get his sperm from the bank and so I thought I’d try to just ask him for some.”

  “You know, Annie, there are other ways of getting a man’s sperm besides asking for it.”

  “Mother!”

  “Oh, calm down. I only mean if you’re together and you like each other, well, why not have a baby the old-fashioned way?”

  “Because it wouldn’t work that way.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because men never do what you want them to do.”

  “Boy, that Ben really screwed you up, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah, I guess he did. But it’s not just him. They’re all like that. You think they want what you want, or they will someday, and they don’t.”

  “It’s not always like that.”

  “I know, but the odds aren’t in my favor. Sure, wouldn’t it be great if Marcus—”

  “Marcus?”

  “The guy. Wouldn’t it be great if he fell in love with me and was a wonderful husband and he wanted to have a child with me right away? But, Mom, that isn’t going to happen! If we got together, who knows how long it would last? Besides, he’s young and ambitious and he’s not going to want to settle down and start having kids anytime soon.”

  “You’re right.”

  “What?” Annie said in disbelief.

  “You’re right,” repeated her mother. “Men are not dependable. And, sure, he’d probably stick around long enough for a few good lays—”

  “Mom!”

  “And then he’d be long gone.”

  “You really think that?”

  “You convinced me, Annie,” said her mother. “You keep telling me how awful men are these days.”

  “Not awful, but not … dependable.”

  “Okay, not dependable. You’ve decided to take matters into your own hands and have a baby. So do it. Screw this guy. I mean, not literally.”

  “But that’s the problem. If he likes me—you know, likes me likes me—he won’t want to give me his sperm.”

  “Then maybe you should screw him—literally.”

  “Oh, I don’t think I could do that.”

  “Why not? You think women don’t do that all the time? He’ll never know. Jeez, he’s been doling it out to the sperm bank like it’s going out of style. What’s one more little Marcus roaming around Kansas City?”

  “You’ve got a point there.”

  “I know I do. Just think about it, Annie. Don’t rule anything out. You’ve got him right where you want him.”

  It was a strange feeling for Annie—to finally be the one with the upper hand. Of course, the tragedy was that she didn’t want a relationship with Marcus. She had arrived at a point where she truly didn’t need a man, where all she wanted was a child, and now she was being given the chance to be with the man of her—of every woman’s—dreams.

  She forced herself to reconsider. Why not give in to Marcus and see where it could lead? she thought. But she knew that each day she put off getting pregnant diminished the odds of ever being able to have a child. Still, could she really let a guy like Marcus slip away?

  Over the next few weeks, Annie and Marcus saw each other almost every other day, going to movies, art exhibits, dinners and lunches out, or sometimes just meeting at their favorite coffee shop, where they sat side by side working on their computers. Annie was biding her time, waiting for the right opportunity to bring up the sperm question. But then Marcus told her he’d like to cook dinner for her at his house, and Annie realized she needed to act fast.

  As she drove down Marcus’s street, a canopy of trees above her, each house with its own unique charm—whether it was painted in an unusual shade of green or red or it had a funky sculpture in the yard—Annie couldn’t help thinking of her own neighborhood, with its scarcity of trees, mammoth houses all painted beige or taupe, and manicured lawns that looked more like golf courses than anything that had been touched by human hands. She imagined herself living in this neighborhood—maybe even living in Marcus’s house—and how different her life would be.

  Standing outside his front door, waiting to be let in, Annie braced herself for the bachelor pad she was likely to encounter. She figured there would be an old used black leather couch, a massive media center housed in a fake-wood cabinet, a four-chaired colonial dining set, and a dirty shag rug. But when she walked in, she found a cozy home decorated to a T.

  There was a big, fluffy off-white couch with brightly colored throw pillows of yellow and teal, a distressed-wood coffee table, and an old-fashioned wingback chair. The dining room had a long harvest table with antique mismatched chairs around it. The kitchen was small but neat, with shiny black appliances and a center island covered in a maroon tile.

  “Nice,” said Annie as she surveyed the small space. “Did an ex-girlfriend help you decorate?”

  “No!” answered Marcus with mock indignation. “But my mom did help a little.”

  “That’s okay,” said Annie. “Maybe she could come over and decorate my place.”

  “I’m sure she’d love it!”

  “So, what’s for dinner?” asked Annie, trying to move the subject off meeting Marcus’s mother.

  “Pad Thai,” said Marcus, giving Annie a knowing look. “What?”

  “Don’t you remember? When we met, you were checking out a Thai restaurant to take your friend to.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “How’d it go, anyway? Did he like it?”

  Annie couldn’t bring herself to lie and have to describe her meal course by course, so she said, “He didn’t end up coming.”

  “You eat shrimp, right?” asked Marcus as he headed for the kitchen.

  “Sure!” said Annie, following close behind.

  “I thought maybe you … kept kosher or something.”

  “I’m not Jewish, Marcus.”

  “Well, I wasn’t sure.”

  “Why does everybody think I’m Jewish?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because you’re from New York and you like smoked fish?”

  “Makes sense. You know, that actually got me into trouble a long time ago.”

  “Oh, yeah? What happened?”

  “Let’s just say that if I were Jewish, I’d probably be Annie Weiner right now.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you’re not.”

  “Yeah, good thing. Ben Weiner was a weenie.”

  “Most men are, right?” said Marcus playfully.

  “Totally! And weenies don’t know how to make Pad Thai!”

  “So I guess I’m not a weenie?”

  “No way!”

  After dinner, Marcus and Annie brought their wineglasses over to the couch and plopped down amid the pillows and overstuffed cushions.

  “This is comfy,” said Annie, feeling stuffed, happy, and light-headed.

  “I know. A little girly, but I don’t care.”

  “I don’t think anyone would mistake you for being gay,” said Annie, more flirtatiously than she had meant.

  “Why not?” asked Marcus, feigning offense. “I could be gay.”

  “Okay, okay, you could definitely be gay,” placated Annie. “Are you gay?”

  Marcus smiled at Annie, not saying a word. Then he reached over, cradled her chin in his hand, and kissed her.

  Many thoughts ran through Annie’s head as Marcus gently pressed his warm lips against hers, such as, How could I let so much time go by without kissing a man? and Why does this spectacularly gorgeous man want to kiss me? and Am I doing this right?

  “You’re not gay,” she said when he pulled away.

  “I could be bi,” he said with a smile. Then he leaned in for another kiss, this time letting his tongue enter her mouth.

  At first, Annie sat passively, letting Marcu
s take the lead. But as the kissing got more intense, she allowed herself to respond, to push closer to him, to touch his arms and his chest.

  Taking this as a signal that Annie wanted more, Marcus caressed the outer part of her breast through her blouse with one hand, the other moving down her back.

  Annie could see where this was going but couldn’t bring herself to stop it. She kept kissing him as he ran his hands along her body, as he began to unbutton her shirt. She kept thinking, I shouldn’t do this, I shouldn’t do this. All the planning and all the work would all go to waste if she slept with Marcus now.

  But then again, she hadn’t felt this good in years, hadn’t met a man with whom she felt so in tune on every level—intellectually, sexually, emotionally. As much as Annie tried to deny it, she and Marcus seemed perfect for each other. So how could she let this go? And what about what her mom said? Why not just do it, do it without protection and get his sperm that way? But, no, she could never do something so deceitful. She could never bring a baby into the world like that.

  It was all going too fast. She needed time. “I think we should slow down,” she said, placing her hand over the few buttons that were still intact.

  “Okay,” said Marcus. “Sure.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Annie, buttoning herself up.

  “No, you’re right. We should slow down.”

  “I should go,” said Annie, knowing she was being too abrupt but also knowing that, if she stayed, she might not be able to say no again.

  As she drove home, Annie began to enumerate all the many flaws in her plan. Did she really think she could befriend Marcus and ask him for a jar of sperm? Did she really think he would knowingly become the father of her child and never have anything to do with his own offspring? The sperm bank was different, anonymous. There was a reason for that anonymity, and Annie was stupid not to see it. And now that Marcus felt something for her, whether they consummated those feelings or not, her plan was shot. Unless Annie and Marcus got married and lived happily ever after, she would not be able to have his baby.

  When she arrived home, Annie sat down at her desk and stared at her computer. She tried to project into the future, to see what would happen between Marcus and her. What she saw was the same story she’d seen over and over and experienced herself. She would imagine a future with Marcus, creating a family with him, and she would count on that future and plan for it and need it to feel fulfilled. But Marcus would have something else in mind, and one day out of nowhere she would discover that, and all her hopes and dreams and desires would be dashed.