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Authors: Buffy Andrews
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always thought or wished it would.”
When I got off the phone with Sue, I picked up the sperm donor profiles. I felt a little weird, like I was trying to put together a designer baby. I guess in a way I was. I wanted my child to look like me, so red hair was important.
Each profile came with notes from the interviewer.
Donor came to our interview wearing khakis (with one leg rolled up for bike riding), and a button-down shirt. His reddish hair is cut short. He has closely cut facial hair and perfectly straight, white teeth. He has light skin with some freckles. His hobbies include playing sports ….
I yawned. I had had enough for one night. I wished that I had someone who would just pick the perfect sperm for me. I was on information overload. I’d have to do an excel spreadsheet and rate each donor on various factors. Or maybe I should compose a rubric and then rate each donor that way. I’d go with the one with the highest composite score and in the event of a tie I’d have to consider secondary information, like the interviewer’s notes.
Chapter 8
Mike
Seeing Cookie at Coach Smith’s funeral sure made me think about things I hadn’t thought about in a long time. Like the night Gina broke up with me. I still remember that night, as if it were an inning ago. Probably because it hit me so hard, like a batter who rips the cover off a ball. It nails you in the gut, knocks the wind out of you and forces your eyeballs into the infield as you blink the dirt, clay, sand and silt away. Damn, Gina. After all these years, I’m still blinking.
That night, sitting in Gina’s living room, she looked me straight in the eyes and told me that she didn’t love me anymore. She said she had been pretending. That it was over. Wow. Even thinking about it now makes me tense.
I just didn’t get it. I didn’t get how she could be so into me one minute and not the next. I always thought there was something else going on, especially because Gina had been acting so weird for weeks, but I could never figure it out.
After the breakup, I’d call Gina every so often just so I could hear her voice. As soon as she answered the phone I’d hang up.
I have to admit that when Cookie told me Gina wasn’t married, it gave me a rush. Like maybe she never found anyone she loved more than she once loved me. Not that I’m egotistical, but Gina and I did have something pretty good. And hearing she was unattached made me wonder for a second if maybe we could hook up.
After Gina broke it off, I threw the sleeping bag we always used for making out in a dumpster behind the mall. I haven’t been back to that spot in the woods since. I just never felt comfortable taking another girl there. The tree was our place. Our names were carved in it. It kind of scared me that just hearing Gina’s name could trigger such strong feelings in me twenty years later.
There were so many things I had wondered about her. What was her husband like? How many kids did she have? Did they have red hair? Gina always wanted a girl with red hair. I never would have guessed Gina would become a prosecutor. I thought she always wanted to be a writer. It didn’t surprise me, though, that she’d choose the sex crimes unit. She always fought for people who couldn’t fight for themselves.
There was this guy, Ray, in our class. He was a little backward but he could draw like Picasso. Some of the guys made fun of him. If one of them made a comment about Ray when Gina was around, she’d lay into them. And there was druggie, Joe who Gina befriended. She saw something good in him when no one else did. He ended up in rehab and now counsels drug addicts.
About the only person Gina wasn’t fond of was Peter. He creeped her out because he always stared at her. It weirded her out so much that I talked to Peter about it. I think I made him piss his pants when I cornered him in the locker
When I got off the phone with Sue, I picked up the sperm donor profiles. I felt a little weird, like I was trying to put together a designer baby. I guess in a way I was. I wanted my child to look like me, so red hair was important.
Each profile came with notes from the interviewer.
Donor came to our interview wearing khakis (with one leg rolled up for bike riding), and a button-down shirt. His reddish hair is cut short. He has closely cut facial hair and perfectly straight, white teeth. He has light skin with some freckles. His hobbies include playing sports ….
I yawned. I had had enough for one night. I wished that I had someone who would just pick the perfect sperm for me. I was on information overload. I’d have to do an excel spreadsheet and rate each donor on various factors. Or maybe I should compose a rubric and then rate each donor that way. I’d go with the one with the highest composite score and in the event of a tie I’d have to consider secondary information, like the interviewer’s notes.
Chapter 8
Mike
Seeing Cookie at Coach Smith’s funeral sure made me think about things I hadn’t thought about in a long time. Like the night Gina broke up with me. I still remember that night, as if it were an inning ago. Probably because it hit me so hard, like a batter who rips the cover off a ball. It nails you in the gut, knocks the wind out of you and forces your eyeballs into the infield as you blink the dirt, clay, sand and silt away. Damn, Gina. After all these years, I’m still blinking.
That night, sitting in Gina’s living room, she looked me straight in the eyes and told me that she didn’t love me anymore. She said she had been pretending. That it was over. Wow. Even thinking about it now makes me tense.
I just didn’t get it. I didn’t get how she could be so into me one minute and not the next. I always thought there was something else going on, especially because Gina had been acting so weird for weeks, but I could never figure it out.
After the breakup, I’d call Gina every so often just so I could hear her voice. As soon as she answered the phone I’d hang up.
I have to admit that when Cookie told me Gina wasn’t married, it gave me a rush. Like maybe she never found anyone she loved more than she once loved me. Not that I’m egotistical, but Gina and I did have something pretty good. And hearing she was unattached made me wonder for a second if maybe we could hook up.
After Gina broke it off, I threw the sleeping bag we always used for making out in a dumpster behind the mall. I haven’t been back to that spot in the woods since. I just never felt comfortable taking another girl there. The tree was our place. Our names were carved in it. It kind of scared me that just hearing Gina’s name could trigger such strong feelings in me twenty years later.
There were so many things I had wondered about her. What was her husband like? How many kids did she have? Did they have red hair? Gina always wanted a girl with red hair. I never would have guessed Gina would become a prosecutor. I thought she always wanted to be a writer. It didn’t surprise me, though, that she’d choose the sex crimes unit. She always fought for people who couldn’t fight for themselves.
There was this guy, Ray, in our class. He was a little backward but he could draw like Picasso. Some of the guys made fun of him. If one of them made a comment about Ray when Gina was around, she’d lay into them. And there was druggie, Joe who Gina befriended. She saw something good in him when no one else did. He ended up in rehab and now counsels drug addicts.
About the only person Gina wasn’t fond of was Peter. He creeped her out because he always stared at her. It weirded her out so much that I talked to Peter about it. I think I made him piss his pants when I cornered him in the locker
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