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“Sorry,” I apologized. “He’s harmless.”
“Don’t be. He seems nice.”
The coffee maker began its drip cycle, filling the room with its rich, delicious aroma. Leaning back against the counter I looked her over some more, trying to determine anything else I could about her.
It also didn’t hurt that she was fun to look at.
“I also figured you’re from New York because you’ve obviously been to the clinic,” I told her. “It’s the only reason I could think of that you’d want my… well…”
“Sperm?”
The word could’ve come out crass or outrageous, but somehow it didn’t. Instead she’d said it smoothly, and with total confidence.
“Youcansay it, you know,” she chuckled. “It’s not like its a dirty word.”
“Fine then, sperm,” I agreed. “But what happened? Did they run out of my sample?” A thought occurred to me, causing me to grin. “Wait, was I reallythatpopular?”
Juliana shrugged, her long hair dancing across her pretty shoulders. “Actually I don’t know how popular you were. They don’t give any information on other potential siblings unless you conceive.”
“Ah,” I nodded. “I vaguely remember something about that.”
“As the donor you could call and ask, though,” she said. “They’ll tell you how many biological children you have. I know that much.”
I felt inwardly guilty all of a sudden. In all these years, I hadn’t even thought about wanting to know. Was it wrong that I felt that way? So much had happened in the past decade. So many things between then and now.
“I only donated once,” I said, struggling to remember. “Had to be more than ten years ago.”
“Eleven.”
I nodded in acknowledgment. “I needed a little cash so I went with a friend who’d done it before, on a whim. It seemed righteous to me at the time. Like a good thing to do, helping people who couldn’t have babies of their own.”
“Itisa good thing to do,” she said. “Which is why I hope you’ll do it again.”
I scratched at my chin. “For you,” I stated plainly.
“Yes,” she smiled politely. “For me.”
It was the last thing in the world I expected when I woke up this morning, but here she was. Strong. Determined. Blunt. I recognized these traits immediately, because they were also my own. Whoever she was, I could tell Juliana Emerson was someone used to getting her way.
“Alright, so what happened?” I asked.
“Your samples were destroyed, accidentally,” she replied. “But there was an oversight. You were still in the database at the time I picked you.”
“You picked me, huh?”
“Yes. But then I was told I couldn’t have you.”
“Hmmm.”
I grabbed the coffee pot and began pouring.
“Why ‘hmmm?’” she frowned.
“Well you came all this way,” I said. “For me. For… this.”
I almost looked down at my balls. I fought the urge not to.
“Yes.”
