"I'm not religious and I don't believe in fate or destiny or any of that," she went on. "But maybe, just maybe, there had to be a balance. Maybe the only way to produce something so wonderful was to surround the event with so much destruction."

Myron started backing out of the room. "This isn't helping," he said again.

"Yes," she said, "it is."

"You want me to find the donor. I'm trying to do that. But this kind of distraction doesn't help. I need to stay detached."

"No, Myron, you need attachment. You need to get emotional. You have to understand the stakes--your son, that beautiful boy who opened the door--is going to die before he's even kissed a girl." She moved closer to him and looked into his eyes and Myron thought that her eyes had never looked so clear before.

"I watched you play every game at Duke," she said. "I fell in love with you on that court--not because you were the team star or because you were graceful or athletic. You were so open out there, so raw and emotional. And the more emotional you got, the more pressure there was, the better you played. If the game was a blowout, you lost interest. You needed it to matter. You needed to be double-teamed with only a few seconds on the clock. You needed to lose control a little."

"This isn't a game, Emily."

"Right," she said. "The stakes are higher. The emotion should be higher. I want you desperate, Myron. That's when you're at your best."

He looked at the photograph of Jeremy, and he knew that he was feeling something that he had never felt before. He blinked, caught the expression on his face in the closet-door mirror, and for a moment he saw his own father staring back.

Emily hugged him then. She buried her face in his shoulder and started to cry. Myron held on tight. They stood that way for several minutes before making their way downstairs. Over dinner, Emily told him about Jeremy, and he soaked in every story. They moved to the couch and broke out the photo albums. Emily tucked her legs under her, her elbow on the top of the couch, her head leaning on the heel of her hand, and told him more. It was nearly two in the morning when she walked him to the door. They were holding hands.

"I know you spoke to Dr. Singh," she said in the open door.

"Yes."

She let loose a deep breath. "I'm just going to say this, okay?"

"Okay."

"I've been keeping track. I bought one of those home tests. The, uh, optimum conception day will be Thursday."

He opened his mouth but she stopped him with her hand.

"I know all the arguments against this, but it might be Jeremy's only chance. Don't say anything. Just think about it."