you.” Philip laughed and plopped down on the suede love seat, facing Jonathan. He was silent, just staring at Jonathan as though waiting for a response. But there wasn’t one. Jonathan continued typing. “And speaking of sons,” Philip started.
Jonathan clicked “save” and spun his chair around. “Yes, go ahead. Get whatever it is off your mind.” He crossed his arms. “I’m waiting. Speaking of sons…”
“Speaking of sons,” Philip started again, “Remember when we used to talk about having one. You and I? And then the whole cancer thing happened?”
Jonathan nodded.
“I know we always spoke about using my sperm, since you didn’t want another Jonathan Beckett running around the planet. But I’m thinking you were just kidding about that, right?”
Jonathan leaned forward and gestured for Philip to continue.
“Well, I for one would love to have another Jonathan running around this planet. I’d love to play with him, help him grow up, take him to art shows, get him really cool presents, and love him as much as I love you.”
“Sounds like your drive to the train station involved a lot more than just catching up on old times. Did she actually have the nerve to ask if I would be the one to donate?”
Philip raised his hand. “Stop. No. It was me. I brought it up.”
“Why? What would make you think…” Jonathan rubbed his head with both hands, as though trying to unscramble the words floating inside his brain. “We wanted your baby, not mine. I’m a mess, you know that. Why would we want to bring another neurotic, OCD kid into the world? And with Angela for God’s sake. We don’t even really know her. I don’t get it.”
Philip walked to Jonathan and fell to his knees. He looked up at Jonathan, his face holding a sympathetic smile. “First of all, you don’t have OCD. You just like things clean. And you’re not neurotic — you just worry a little more than most people.” He rubbed Jonathan’s legs. “I don’t know why you always make yourself sound crazy. Unless it’s some kind of excuse.”
“An excuse for what? Why would I want to think I’m crazy?”
Philip kept his eyes on Jonathan’s. “If you think you’re crazy, then you never have to do anything that really means something.”
Jonathan shivered as though tiny spiders were crawling up his arms and legs. He tensed, unsure how to respond or even if he could. Philip’s words hit a nerve and his reaction was more paralysis than anger.
“Think about it,” Philip continued, “Whenever you talk about writing a novel, you say you can’t because then the world would know how crazy you are. Or when we discuss the kinds of articles you write, you say you like to keep them light and generic so readers won’t sense your neuroses. Honestly, I think that’s bullshit. You’re playing it way too safe. It holds you back in lots of ways, and that hurts me because I think you’re squelching your potential.”
Jonathan found the strength to move and rolled his chair back, away from Philip.
“And what does this have to do with giving sperm to a total stranger?”
“First of all, she’s not a total stranger. And second, it’s the fact that you keep saying you wouldn’t want to have a child because he, or she, would be neurotic and obsessive. You are neither. I think it’s just another way of you holding yourself back.”
Forcing himself to breathe, Jonathan stood and walked to the window. The lights lining the driveway lit up the hydrangeas from beneath, an explosion of blossoms illuminated from the inside out. A chipmunk scurried from one side of the path to the other, its tiny shadow following at first, then leading the way as it disappeared into the tall grass.
“And what does Angela think about the whole thing?”
Philip, now sitting on the floor, leaned back and used his arms as support.
“If you hadn’t noticed, she thinks you’re wonderful. And when I brought up the idea to her, she started to
Jonathan clicked “save” and spun his chair around. “Yes, go ahead. Get whatever it is off your mind.” He crossed his arms. “I’m waiting. Speaking of sons…”
“Speaking of sons,” Philip started again, “Remember when we used to talk about having one. You and I? And then the whole cancer thing happened?”
Jonathan nodded.
“I know we always spoke about using my sperm, since you didn’t want another Jonathan Beckett running around the planet. But I’m thinking you were just kidding about that, right?”
Jonathan leaned forward and gestured for Philip to continue.
“Well, I for one would love to have another Jonathan running around this planet. I’d love to play with him, help him grow up, take him to art shows, get him really cool presents, and love him as much as I love you.”
“Sounds like your drive to the train station involved a lot more than just catching up on old times. Did she actually have the nerve to ask if I would be the one to donate?”
Philip raised his hand. “Stop. No. It was me. I brought it up.”
“Why? What would make you think…” Jonathan rubbed his head with both hands, as though trying to unscramble the words floating inside his brain. “We wanted your baby, not mine. I’m a mess, you know that. Why would we want to bring another neurotic, OCD kid into the world? And with Angela for God’s sake. We don’t even really know her. I don’t get it.”
Philip walked to Jonathan and fell to his knees. He looked up at Jonathan, his face holding a sympathetic smile. “First of all, you don’t have OCD. You just like things clean. And you’re not neurotic — you just worry a little more than most people.” He rubbed Jonathan’s legs. “I don’t know why you always make yourself sound crazy. Unless it’s some kind of excuse.”
“An excuse for what? Why would I want to think I’m crazy?”
Philip kept his eyes on Jonathan’s. “If you think you’re crazy, then you never have to do anything that really means something.”
Jonathan shivered as though tiny spiders were crawling up his arms and legs. He tensed, unsure how to respond or even if he could. Philip’s words hit a nerve and his reaction was more paralysis than anger.
“Think about it,” Philip continued, “Whenever you talk about writing a novel, you say you can’t because then the world would know how crazy you are. Or when we discuss the kinds of articles you write, you say you like to keep them light and generic so readers won’t sense your neuroses. Honestly, I think that’s bullshit. You’re playing it way too safe. It holds you back in lots of ways, and that hurts me because I think you’re squelching your potential.”
Jonathan found the strength to move and rolled his chair back, away from Philip.
“And what does this have to do with giving sperm to a total stranger?”
“First of all, she’s not a total stranger. And second, it’s the fact that you keep saying you wouldn’t want to have a child because he, or she, would be neurotic and obsessive. You are neither. I think it’s just another way of you holding yourself back.”
Forcing himself to breathe, Jonathan stood and walked to the window. The lights lining the driveway lit up the hydrangeas from beneath, an explosion of blossoms illuminated from the inside out. A chipmunk scurried from one side of the path to the other, its tiny shadow following at first, then leading the way as it disappeared into the tall grass.
“And what does Angela think about the whole thing?”
Philip, now sitting on the floor, leaned back and used his arms as support.
“If you hadn’t noticed, she thinks you’re wonderful. And when I brought up the idea to her, she started to
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