“You… you mean… with me…”
“No. Not with you. Not like that. But would you consider donating…? It’s weird. I know. I know. I’ve gone round and round. I had to ask. I understand if you say no. I expect you to say no. But I had to ask.”
She paused, overcome with emotion. Maybe not believing what she had just asked.
I could find no words.
When Ava spoke again, she was barely audible.
“I think… I think it’s the only thing that might make me whole again. I wouldn’t ask, but I’m desperate. I’m so scared of what I’m feeling.”
I was scared of what I was feeling too. When I first heard the words, I had been horrified, sickened. But then the distress in the eyes of a woman I now viewed as my daughter was so great, that I felt compelled to do something.
I stroked her face.
“Ava. You are asking a lot. Maybe too much. But, can I think? I have so many questions. Can I think about whether or not I can help? I… I don’t want to create false hope, but… but at least half of me wants to help. But… it may not even be legal. I just don’t know. Can we talk in the morning?”
“Of course. Of course. Thank you for even thinking about it. I know I’m guilt-tripping you. I’m sorry. Some things just came out. I’ve been struggling with what to say.”
I hugged her.
“Aside from anything else, thank you for talking to me. For trusting me. That means a lot.”
I kissed her forehead again as a goodnight, and we walked together up the stairs. Me turning left, her right.
“Goodnight, Martin. You have been a good friend.”
“It’s no problem, honey. Goodnight, Ava.”
It was past three when exhaustion eventually took over. I was no closer to figuring out what to do. And what I wanted.- – –
I found Ava in the kitchen again the next morning. It was Saturday and we had time. She was in her PJs and had made coffee. The temperature was already building, and we went and sat under a tree in the yard. Vanessa and I used to have breakfast there sometimes.
There was an understandable tension between us. Last night had not been a normal conversation. I started, trying not to blunder as much as I had before.
“So, I thought. And I went round in circles. And I think we need to discuss some specifics. Is that OK?”
“That’s OK, Martin. I’m sorry to have put you in this impossible position. It’s not fair, I know. I just didn’t feel like I had an alternative.”
“It’s OK. We can figure this out. Can I ask some questions?”
“Sure.”
I tried to sound dispassionate, but my heart was thumping.
“Look, I’m going to be blunt. No point having misunderstandings. Agreed?”
She nodded.
“Great. So, I am assuming, we go to a clinic, or something.”
“I’d do it myself. I spend enough time in tissue culture. And I’ve looked into it, no clinic will even talk to us. But if you are asking about methods, then artificial insemination. I’d need you to masturbate into a sterile cup.”
I couldn’t help a rueful laugh.
“I’m sorry, Ava. I’m trying to be OK with this, but listening to you saying those words. Well, it’s pretty weird.”
“I know, I’m treating it as a materials and methods section, I think it’s to stop myself from freaking out.”