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Authors: Sharon Shinn
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the seat and now I just turn my head a little to look at him, not straightening up from my loose pose. “I’ll never have any with
you
,” I say in a mild voice.
He digests that for a moment. “You’d really get pregnant by another man? What happened to all those ‘Oh, Dante, I love you more than life itself’ things you’re always saying?”
“I could go to a sperm bank. I could adopt.” I shrug. “I have options.”
He takes his eyes off the road long enough to glance at me. “Do you really think so?” he asks quietly. “Do you really think you can bring up children—no matter how you acquire them—while I’m in your life?”
“I don’t know why not,” I say. He has no idea how much thought I’ve given to this subject over the past few years. “It’s not like you ever take animal shapes while you’re with me. So you’re an unusual guy. You show up for a few days every month or so, and Mommy’s really happy to see you, and we do fun stuff like go to the park every day. Then you leave, and Mommy cries for a day, but pretty soon life goes back to its ordinary routine. I promise you, there are kids in this world who see their parents entertain much stranger lovers. Well, entertain them on much stranger schedules. I don’t know that any of the lovers are actually odder than
you
.”
I am still speaking lightly. I don’t want to spook him; I don’t want him to freak out over the notion that I might bring another life into our small, private circle. But I
don’t
think it’s impossible. I
don’t
see why a child couldn’t adapt to Dante’s unconventional visits, just as I have. Kids adapt to lots weirder things than men appearing and disappearing frequently in their mothers’ lives.
He glances at me again; his face is furrowed and his voice, when he speaks, is uncertain. “I don’t think it would be as simple as you make it sound. I don’t think—Maria, I don’t think it would be a good idea.”
“I thought your objection was to passing on your corrupted genes,” I say, my tone a little flippant. “So I bypass
your
deficiencies and take on the unknown ones of a total stranger.”
“Well, but—I mean—it’s got to be awfully hard to be a single parent. I obviously wouldn’t be able to help you out much—”
“Who asked you to?”
Now he’s a little ruffled. “Well, you didn’t, but I assume—I mean, if you still want
me
in your life once you’ve got this baby, this child—”
I sit up and turn toward him as much as the seat belt will allow. He keeps his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his hands in a death grip on the steering wheel. I see that this is a wholly new idea to him and he doesn’t like it. Is it that he resents the idea of sharing my affection with someone else or that he literally can’t imagine any part of my life that isn’t built around him?
“Dante, I love you,” I say, every word heavy with emphasis. “I will love you till I die. I have made ninety percent of the choices of my life to accommodate you, and I will continue to make those choices. But you have made it very clear that you have a life that does not include me and that I will never be invited to share—”
“Dammit, how can you share being an
animal
?”
“And I have started to look at how I can fill the parts of my life that are empty because you’re not in them. You’re right, I’ve been thinking how much I want a baby. You’re right, being a single mother seems really hard. I haven’t made any plans yet. I may never go forward with any of these ideas. But if I do—”
I pause. I had not expected to tear up at this point. Well, I had not expected to be having this conversation with Dante today, though I had rehearsed it many times in my head. But I had not expected to see a baby at Christina’s house, and to have all these emotions stirred up, all these questions, all these desires.
“If I do,” I repeat softly, reaching out to stroke his face, “I hope you will find a
you
,” I say in a mild voice.
He digests that for a moment. “You’d really get pregnant by another man? What happened to all those ‘Oh, Dante, I love you more than life itself’ things you’re always saying?”
“I could go to a sperm bank. I could adopt.” I shrug. “I have options.”
He takes his eyes off the road long enough to glance at me. “Do you really think so?” he asks quietly. “Do you really think you can bring up children—no matter how you acquire them—while I’m in your life?”
“I don’t know why not,” I say. He has no idea how much thought I’ve given to this subject over the past few years. “It’s not like you ever take animal shapes while you’re with me. So you’re an unusual guy. You show up for a few days every month or so, and Mommy’s really happy to see you, and we do fun stuff like go to the park every day. Then you leave, and Mommy cries for a day, but pretty soon life goes back to its ordinary routine. I promise you, there are kids in this world who see their parents entertain much stranger lovers. Well, entertain them on much stranger schedules. I don’t know that any of the lovers are actually odder than
you
.”
I am still speaking lightly. I don’t want to spook him; I don’t want him to freak out over the notion that I might bring another life into our small, private circle. But I
don’t
think it’s impossible. I
don’t
see why a child couldn’t adapt to Dante’s unconventional visits, just as I have. Kids adapt to lots weirder things than men appearing and disappearing frequently in their mothers’ lives.
He glances at me again; his face is furrowed and his voice, when he speaks, is uncertain. “I don’t think it would be as simple as you make it sound. I don’t think—Maria, I don’t think it would be a good idea.”
“I thought your objection was to passing on your corrupted genes,” I say, my tone a little flippant. “So I bypass
your
deficiencies and take on the unknown ones of a total stranger.”
“Well, but—I mean—it’s got to be awfully hard to be a single parent. I obviously wouldn’t be able to help you out much—”
“Who asked you to?”
Now he’s a little ruffled. “Well, you didn’t, but I assume—I mean, if you still want
me
in your life once you’ve got this baby, this child—”
I sit up and turn toward him as much as the seat belt will allow. He keeps his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his hands in a death grip on the steering wheel. I see that this is a wholly new idea to him and he doesn’t like it. Is it that he resents the idea of sharing my affection with someone else or that he literally can’t imagine any part of my life that isn’t built around him?
“Dante, I love you,” I say, every word heavy with emphasis. “I will love you till I die. I have made ninety percent of the choices of my life to accommodate you, and I will continue to make those choices. But you have made it very clear that you have a life that does not include me and that I will never be invited to share—”
“Dammit, how can you share being an
animal
?”
“And I have started to look at how I can fill the parts of my life that are empty because you’re not in them. You’re right, I’ve been thinking how much I want a baby. You’re right, being a single mother seems really hard. I haven’t made any plans yet. I may never go forward with any of these ideas. But if I do—”
I pause. I had not expected to tear up at this point. Well, I had not expected to be having this conversation with Dante today, though I had rehearsed it many times in my head. But I had not expected to see a baby at Christina’s house, and to have all these emotions stirred up, all these questions, all these desires.
“If I do,” I repeat softly, reaching out to stroke his face, “I hope you will find a
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