(Juan)
"None of these women look right to me!" Hiram was frustrated as he glanced at the updated donor files.
I knew my husband. When it came to female beauty, he was interested in models or the obsession he had with Lisa Minelli and Barbra Streisand. What he wanted was Linda Evangelista to donate the eggs. But we were in Ohio, trying to reproduce with the help of a clinic whose prices fit our budget. There was no Linda Evangelista or Cindy Crawford or Naomi Campbell in the catalogue. About me? My role model of a beautiful woman was still Susanna Hoffs. Okay, I didn't really like the Bangles, and The Go-Go's is much better as a pop band, but the concept of having an all-female band or a female-led band is really cool. For example, Blondie, Siouxsie and the Banshees, B-52's, Heart, The Runaways, The Pretenders and those new ones, like L7 and The Cranberries. What's the name of Cranberries' lead singer? Dolores. That's it, Dolores! What a voice!
"What's wrong with this Heather Lance?" I asked my husband, showing a photo of a relatively attractive, blonde, light-eyed, young woman whose description says she is a college student from Chicago.
"With that stripper name? I want a clean person."
"Hiram, my love. These women are interviewed, undergo psychological and clinical examinations. All of them are fit."
"I don't want our kid's identity to be obvious. I want there to be doubts about paternity. That won't happen to a blonde woman."
"So do you want a black woman to donate the eggs?"
"Would that be a problem?"
"Of course not." Who am I to talk about race? Honestly, I didn't give a shit about it. My family was so mixed up that we didn't even know it anymore: native South American, white, black… you call.
Hiram sighed and looked once more at the photos while I studied another group.
"How about Ivony Raymond? She is black and appears to be smart. She's young and she lives in Detroit. Here also says she is sporty, which is a good way to produce children with good physiques." I suggested.
"Holy shit, is she six feet tall? If your sperm hit her egg, we will have a seven feet tall kid!"
"Hiram! Since when is size a prerequisite? Since when are you complex about height?"
Hiram was five foot seven, lean, but with the physical strength and stamina of a marathon runner. Which was impressive given that he was a smoker struggling to kick this disgusting habit. He was a physically harmonious guy. He had nothing to be ashamed of. Our difference in height has always been something evident, obviously, after all I have the ideal body type for an American football player. I no longer had the same muscle mass as when I played, but I maintained my physique, I ran every morning and did a little functional exercise daily because it made me feel good and kept my concentration and reflexes, which was good in surgery's game. I could stand up through a surgery lasting more than eight hours without the slightest problem.
While Hiram looked for the ideal woman, I continued to analyze my part. That's when I picked up a portrait of a very interesting young woman. She was a Cleveland native, hazel-eyed, 5'6" which might be a little tall by Hiram's standards but was just perfect by mine. On the file it said that she wasn't 100% Caucasian because she was of Native American descent on her mother's side. Her natural hair was wavy dark brown. Her face was square, with strong features, a strong jaw. She wasn't a magazine model beauty, but I could tell that girl had personality. In her file it said that she was a theater student, she was 20 years old, and that she was willing both to donate eggs and to be a surrogate. There was only one thing that intrigued me about this girl. I had the impression that I had seen her before.
"What do you think of this Shelby Corcoran?" I showed her photo to Hiram. "She is not black, but she seems interesting to me. Also, it says here that she is a theater student and an amateur actress. In other words, totally a person you would sit down to have a nice long conversation with."
"Shelby? What? Was her father by any chance a car-loving redneck?"
"Come on Hiram! You say one's name is a stripper, and now you accuse this one's father of being a fucking hillbilly?" Hiram looked dismissive and didn't seem interested in Shelby, but I didn't let go of her picture. I was intrigued by that girl because I was pretty sure I'd seen her before.
"What?" Hiram asked when he realized I hadn't dropped miss Corcoran's file.
"I don't know if it's because she lives in Cleveland, but I have a feeling I've seen this girl before."
"Let me take a look." Hiram took the file from my hands and studied the photograph further. Well, Hiram was a better physiognomist than I was. He wasn't very good at remembering names, but Hiram had a memory for faces. "The Rocky Horror Picture Show." Hiram finally said. "She was that nasal-voiced actress who played Janet."
"Really? It's a little hard to recognize with all that makeup that stage actors wear."
"It's a face that's hard to forget."
"At least she has something you value." I took her file again from my husband's hands. "She is a theater rat."
Yes, because if Hiram had the talent to sing, he would definitely be a musical theater actor. But my husband had a small voice, although in tune. He even took acting classes at OSU, but he never went further. He said he was a frustrated actor, which would make him a great theater critic. His fixation on musicals is also the result of this frustration, I think. Hiram's mother was a jazz pianist before she married his father. She taught him to play, but Hiram wasn't very fond of the piano. There were rare occasions when he showed off.
"She must be one of those looking for money to go to New York or to Los Angeles." Hiram analyzed her profile.
"Do you think so?"
"The profile fits: young, theater student and we've already seen that she can sing even with that nasal voice. I bet you 10 bucks she wants to go to Broadway."
"We'd have to meet her for that."
"There are other candidates here, Juan."
"Are they just as interesting?"
"Did you really like this girl?"
"I don't see anything against it. She has an interesting beauty, she has an artistic streak, and if she really has the ambition to get out of here, she shouldn't cause us any problems."
Hiram took her file and placed it in the pile of possible candidates, which had an incredible number of two files since we started searching.
"We can ask for an interview with her at the clinic." Hiram speculated.
"Actually, we cannot. Only if she was a surrogate. But in the case of egg donation, we don't come into direct contact with the donor."
"Seriously? I didn't pay attention to that part." He took another look at Miss Corcoran's file. "This girl applied for both services… she must really be desperate for money."
For some reason, I was curious about that girl. The clinic's rules were pretty clear, but I had the means. Taking a closer look wouldn't hurt, as I was investigating the 50% that would make up my future child, right?
...
(Shelby)
I finished cleaning the table of a customer who had just left. A regular guy who only left me a two dollar tip. He ordered half of the menu and only left two dollars. I bet this guy still lived with his mom, probably in the basement, and he'd still have the nerve to tell his friends, if he had any, that he paid rent for the mom. I glanced over at Jane, who was waiting on a table in her section. In my section there were only two other customers eating. A girl who ordered a coffee and a piece of pie and looked like her life is shit right now. We saw a lot of these types in the diner. At the other table, there was a regular customer who came for a full meal at least once a week. This one left the minimum tip, but his frequency justified it. Then, a tall guy walked into the diner. He had brown skin, wavy hair, and his features screams Latino. He reminded me a bit of that actor who played La Bamba. Not the main thing: the drugged brother.
He sat at a table in the corner of the wall in my section, in the place that gave an overview of the diner. I took the menu and left it on his table.
"Can you get me a sparkling water, please. And if so, a lemon band?" He said with a gentle tone.
"Isn't it better to ask for a seven up already?" I suggested.
"I stopped drinking soda a couple of years ago."
"Diabetes?"
"No. It's because sugar really is a public health issue. What a young person has today arriving at the hospital with gastritis is impressive. Not to mention obesity and diabetes as well."
"Are you a doctor?"
"Yes I am."
"Do you know you won't find healthy food on that menu, right?"
The guy smiled. Damn, he had a nice smile, his teeth all lined up. You could see that if he had any money, he definitely had a certain social status. And if he really was a doctor, of course he was a smart guy, who went to college.
"Once in a while it's good to eat a good hamburger."
"Well, I'll get the sparkling water and the lemon while you choose what to eat."
I asked George for a lemon and got a small bottle of sparkling water. I left it on the so-called doctor's table and went straight to the pie girl. She paid the bill and left two dollars tip, which matched what she consumed. In that case, I wasn't angry. I picked up the garbage, quickly cleaned the table, and then went back to the doctor.
"Everything looks good to me. Any suggestion?"
"It depends on how hungry you are. Charlie Bronson goes out a lot. It's good for those who have a big stomach or are very hungry. Meg Ryan also goes out a lot if you just want a snack and aren't too hungry."
"Hot cheese, ham, tomato, lettuce, oregano and special sauce…" He read the ingredients on the sandwich we named Meg Ryan. "I don't think that combination would do Sally any good. Unless that sauce is really great."
"Our chef offers a free piece of apple pie to anyone who takes the movie reference and acts it out." It wasn't true, but I sometimes said that to certain clients just for fun.
"Has anyone ever had the courage to do this?"
"Only one person."
"Did you know this person?"
"Sadly yes. He was a theater student."
"Was this diner full?"
"You bet. No theater student will show off in this way without an audience to witness it."
"Would you do it? Would you stage it?"
"The apple pie here is good, but not that good."
"Okay, I'll have this Meg Ryan. But I'm not going to stage anything."
I took the order but didn't pick up the menu. Customers of that type, who seem to be looking for something, usually company, always ask for something extra. I did my job, his order was ready, two customers walked in, Jane directed one to her section and the other to mine. More orders, more tips. The tall, handsome guy didn't make conversation anymore. He ate the sandwich and drank the sparkling water with lemon and sugar. He smiled politely, said the food was good, and left a ten dollar tip, which was pretty decent. For a moment I swore he was going to leave a card or a note with his phone number on the table. One I wouldn't throw away because he seemed like an interesting guy, not to mention handsome. Too bad he didn't leave his phone number. Didn't even say his name.
...
(Juan)
"You what?"
"I didn't do anything wrong. I asked Lyanne for a favor, and she responded with several recommendations. So I went to the diner and checked out this Shelby Corcoran. I didn't say a word about it, I just sat down, ordered a snack, left a little better tip, and left."
"How much better tip?"
"Ten dollars."
"Okay, I agree this goes into classification, although I don't approve of what you did, Juan. We shouldn't have any contact with the possible egg donor."
"This doesn't qualify as contact. She doesn't even know who I am, much less does she know my reasons. I don't know anything about this girl either, other than I saw a play she was in and that she waits tables at a diner called George's."
"And what else?"
"She is prettier in person than in the photos. Her jaw is really strong, slightly forward, which could be corrected with orthognathic surgery, it would be a minor correction, if you ask me... but I don't think that's something that gets in the way or compromises since she also sings. Perhaps she was afraid to make this correction or didn't have money, plain and simple. Fred Mercury never straightened his teeth because he was afraid of messing up his voice range... Which is a myth."
"Juan… focus on the matter."
"Of course, of course..." I had the terrible fault of bursting into speech when I got a little nervous. "Well, Shelby is beautiful, healthy, and I definitely think we would give us beautiful children with her genetics."
"Even if they have the jaw slightly forward?"
"We would fix that. I make sure my kids have the best health insurance possible."
Hiram rolled his eyes. I knew him well enough to know he wasn't comfortable, nor did he buy my story. He was always on the back foot because he was a jealous person. For someone so detached from material things and who claimed to be a friend of nature – Hiram was a vegetarian by ideology – my husband was a possessive person. I don't say this to curse my husband, because Hiram is a guy who knows what it's like to compromise when he's willing to. He is a naturally intelligent and engaging fellow, sometimes brilliant without being pedantic or overbearing. That's what drew me to him in the first place.
On the other hand, Hiram can be a big hypocrite. From the moment he and I agreed to have an exclusive relationship, that's five years ago, I have never cheated on him, unlike he did...twice! It was complicated, but I forgave him and fought for him in our worst moments because I knew Hiram was a worthy person. I also appreciate that he is incredibly patient with me as I do my residency and spend less time with him. It was almost surreal that he embarked on this fatherhood story with me, at a difficult time in my life, knowing that he would have a great responsibility in caring for and educating our future child in its first years of life.
But there was jealousy and it wasn't for just anyone. In the same way that he didn't worry about me socializing with other guys, he was always jealous of women. Hiram thought, or so I gathered, that I could dump him for some busty brunette who was a Susanna Hoffs' clone. He hated the Bangles because of this!
"Hiram, listen..." I hugged my husband. "We are going to have beautiful children, regardless of the donor. Look at us!"
"But is that..."
"You know the rules. If we really choose this girl, this Shelby Corcoran, she will never even know that she donated her eggs to a gay couple!"
"The system has flaws, Juan. You went to check on this girl."
"Because I am in a privileged position. It's not that she's going to have the same access, and it's not that I will go to that diner again. All we have to do is get in touch with the clinic, put our sperm in a little cup and let the doctors do their magic. Getting a surrogate is a much less complicated choice because she just needs to be young and healthy. And from now until the end of the year or the beginning of next year, we will be wrapped up in diapers and bottles."
"Hearing you talk like that, the magic goes into space."
"If you want to skip this step, just adopt an older child."
"Adoption is a possibility we can never rule out."
"Never been discarded, my love." I kissed my husband. "So what do you think?"
"I will take this girl into consideration. That Shelby is no paragon of beauty in my eyes, but since you liked her..."
"Well, I think she's a good fit, as Susanna Hoffs is unavailable, Barbra Streisand is already in menopause, Lea Salonga didn't answer our calls and Jodie Foster didn't accept our invitation."
"Jodie Foster is very lesbian."
"Seriously? Jodie Foster?"
"Your gaydar is shit, Juan. Trust me."
/
Hello Spawn. Thanks for reading and for the reviews. Yeah, having kids with this kind of assistance is pretty expensive. I did a price researching at the time I wrote this fic, and the price to donate eggs range between 10 to 25 thousand dollars, depending on some variables. So, I took the minimum amount, imagining that this would be a very reasonable price, considering the inflationary difference, in 1993/1994, which is the time this story takes place. The same goes for the price of surrogacy.