“How about one of those artificial places.”
“Artificial insemination? They need the husband, the donor, to already have given his sample. You understand what I’m saying?” Ronny nodded. “Besides, that costs money, and everyone in this hick town would know about it. It would get back to your dad over the grapevine in no time.”
“What about, yanno, like just once, you, yanno—with some guy.”
“Ronald Alfred Bannix! Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Your father is the only one I’ve ever been with. I have to deeply love the person I do that with. What on earth were you thinking?”
“It would be better than losing Dad is all I’m saying. Telling him the truth is literally going to kill him. He’ll do things he shouldn’t in ways he shouldn’t, thinking it’s all ‘fate’ or ‘destiny’ or all the stuff he believes keeps him safe or puts him in the crosshairs.”
I thought that over, and my mind tried to make sense of it, come up with a solution, or see my way through in some way. “Besides, somebody else’s baby would look like him, NOT like your dad with his square jaw, blue eyes, blonde hair, and high cheekbones. You can’t fake those characteristics that are dominant traits in his family. Look at you, Ronny, you have all those, just like your dad.”
“And I’ll pass down the same looks to my kids, just like Dad did to me?”
“Exactly. Dominant traits for sure. That’s why it could never work, even if I somehow convinced myself that it was all for a bigger and better cause. Believe me, I’ve thought about this for two weeks and there’s no way out. There’s no plan in the world that will—”
“Mom, I got a plan.”
“You do? After five minutes you have a plan that I’ve been going crazy trying to figure out for weeks. Ronny, this is serious. I’m not in the mood for craziness at this point.”
“Just listen, listen for a minute.”
I knew this was almost as traumatic for him as it was for me. So I took a deep breath and tried to be as patient as I could with my son. “Go ahead, Ronny, I’m listening.”
“It’s only a few weeks since you found out, so it’s not like Dad would know, like if the baby’s a little late, yanno more than exactly on the dot nine months.”
“That’s not the point. Babies of course can be late.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. It wouldn’t matter. And we learned in biology that women can become pregnant best around two weeks later.”
“You mean two weeks after their period,” I said. He winced. I had to smile. I thought I would break the tension a little bit by adding to his discomfort with another fact. “A woman is most fertile about two weeks later, when she ovulates.”
“Right, right … ovulates. So, Mom, when do you ovulate?”
This time I was embarrassed. “None of your business.” I HAD, in fact calculated I was going to ovulate tomorrow.
“But, it IS my business, Mom. You said I look just like Dad, you said my kids will look just like me.” He looked at me like that made all the sense in the world. He rolled his hand again an again in that gesture that says, “Come on, get it—tell me what’s next!”