The Pregnant Virgin. Anne Eames
she decided some things were better kept to one’s self.
After work, in the privacy of her apartment, Ali went to her desk and found the long list of potential donors from the Midwest data bank. Retrieving her planner from her purse, she flipped to the memo section and read Brad’s file number that she had jotted down at work. With fingers trembling she scanned the donor pages, searching for the unique number. On page five she found it. Next to it read: five-foot ten inches, 175 pounds, blue eyes—oh, yes, very blue eyes, she remembered—and black hair. Field of work: medicine.
Before she could change her mind, she raced into the kitchen and dialed the cross-town clinic. When the secretary answered the phone, Ali read her selection in a shaky voice and said to expect her later in the week, probably Thursday or Friday. She was assured all would be ready and waiting.
But it wasn’t until Saturday morning, the day of the football game, that Ali discovered the time was right. She’d tested herself twice and come up with the same results both times: she was finally ovulating. Fortunately it was only 6:00 a.m. The clinic opened at seven. There was still time to make the game if she hurried. She called and said she was on her way.
Traffic was light as she drove I75 north to Royal Oak and she was making good time. Her stomach grumbled from lack of food, but there was no way she could eat. Her heart felt as though it were racing to keep up with the speedometer.
Finally she pulled into the clinic’s parking lot, took a few calming breaths and ran through everything again—family history of fertility problems, good men were hard to find, nothing wrong with wanting a face for the baby’s father. She lingered on the last one. Michelle had felt the same way, so this wasn’t unusual. And it wasn’t as if she planned to hold the guy up for child support or anything. She didn’t want a thing from him. Just a real person behind the sterile vial.
Lastly she thought about child care. She could ask her sisters for help if she wanted to return to work, or if she didn’t, thankfully the income from her wise investments was large enough so she could stay home and be a full-time mom. The latter sounded most appealing. She closed her eyes and imagined the soft skin of her baby’s cheek against her neck, the fresh scent of baby powder…and the beautiful sky-blue eyes of the father.
Yes, this was the right thing to do. Today was the day.
Three
Back in her bed midmorning, Ali wiped away another tear. All the way home she had cried. She was surprised there was anything left.
Everything had gone well. Too well. More like coldly efficient. Her hand circled her belly and she wondered what was going on in there. Maybe it had happened already. At the clinic they had warned her not to get her hopes up too high, that it often took a few tries. But they didn’t warn her that she might feel so blue. In spite of all the facts she had collected, this wasn’t how she had imagined things would happen.
Yes, she had wanted a baby, but always in her dreams there had been this wonderful man who adored her, who she loved with total abandon, whose arms would be wrapped tightly around her at a time like this.
She never felt so alone in her life.
She closed her eyes and tried to summon up the blue eyes, the dimpled smile. Only a vague blur, nothing in focus.
The phone on the nightstand rang. She let the machine pick it up. Then she heard Lynne’s voice and she rolled over and grabbed the receiver.
“I’m just leaving the house. Pick you up out front in about twenty minutes.” When Ali didn’t respond immediately, Lynne said, “Are you all right?”
“Hmm? Oh…just a little sleepy.”
“Well, go splash some cold water on your face and wake up. It’s a beautiful day out. Wear something lightweight.”
Ali replaced the receiver and gingerly lowered her legs to the floor. She knew she was being overly cautious, but she dreaded standing and walking around. She had a mad desire to stand on her head in the corner. She’d heard somewhere that it helped increase your chances.
Suddenly she laughed out loud at her weird musings. This was a day to celebrate, not to be maudlin. She’d been taking herself far too seriously and it was time that changed. She opened the closet bifolds and stared inside.
Lynne and the game would be a fun diversion…as long as she didn’t tell her sister about this morning. No, before she talked to her sister about things again, Ali would wait until there was real news.
She found a short-sleeved maize pullover with University of Michigan stitched in blue over the breast pocket. She changed quickly and after tucking her top into a pair of jeans, she stood in front of the dresser mirror, meeting her eyes head-on.
Did she look different somehow? She told herself no and raced for the elevator.
But as she stepped into the lobby and strode out the door she felt as though a neon sign hung over her head announcing to the world what she had just done.
With two minutes left in the first half, Michigan was ahead by ten points. Ali turned to Lynne and said, “Think I’ll head up to the concession stand before the line is too long. Can I bring you anything?”
“Hot dog with mustard and a diet Coke. Want me to come along?”
“Not unless you want to. I can manage.”
“I’ll stay here, then. Not in the mood to fight the crowd.”
Apparently others had had the same idea as Ali; when she approached the concession all the lines were at least twenty deep. She queued up and scanned the crowd looking for familiar faces. With attendance exceeding one hundred thousand at every game there were many times she would never see a person she knew. It looked as if today would be one of those days.
“Ali?”
She turned at the sound of her name. Just behind her in the next line she spotted Michelle. She stepped closer and the two women embraced.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” Michelle said. “We could have driven together.”
“I’m with my sister Lynne. Is your husband here?”
“Somewhere in this chaos.”
“I’m glad he got some time off.”
“Well, he’s not totally off. He brought a couple of young doctors with him. He’s got his eye on one of them to sponsor as a surgical resident.”
The lines inched forward and they talked about the game and the beautiful weather, while all along Ali itched to tell Michelle about this morning. But the crowd had packed in tighter and there was no way their conversation wouldn’t be overheard. She had a fleeting vision of the whole area falling dead still at the exact moment she uttered something such as “sperm bank,” and she chuckled under her breath.
“If your sister isn’t in a rush to go home, why don’t the two of you join us for pizza after? We’re going to the State Street Grill. We like to eat first and avoid the worst of the traffic jam.”
“I’ll ask her. Thanks.”
Ali reached the head of the line and placed her order. Before she stepped away from the counter, Michelle said, “We’ll never find each other later, so why don’t you just come if you can. We’ll save two extra seats.”
“Okay. If we don’t show, let’s try for lunch early next week.” Michelle nodded and turned in the opposite direction.
When Ali sat next to Lynne, she told her about Michelle’s offer, and Lynne said it sounded like a good plan. They ate their hot dogs and only spilled half of their Cokes when Michigan scored again early in the third quarter. The band played another round of “Hail to the Victors,” and Ali and Lynne shouted out the lyrics along with the rest of the packed house.
It was just as far to the car as to the restaurant, so Ali and Lynne decided to walk. The sidewalks were teaming