Chapters (65)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Part Two
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Part Three
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- About the Publisher
Then came Cally. She had just turned twenty, the perfect age. She worked at a popular doggy daycare, which was a steady job, and it sounded like she was good at it. But she wanted to go back and finish college, to get a better job; she wanted a career, and I admired that. Before she’d run out of tuition money, she’d completed one semester of college, which is where, on the back of a toilet stall door, she’d heard about egg donation. In pursuing egg donation, she explained to us over coffee, she’d found our ad. She considered herself an ideal candidate and seemed very motivated to jump right in.
So I looked for defects. I looked for ways to reject her, which wasn’t easy.
She was pretty and slender, although her nutrition habits left something to be desired. She had adequate posture, smooth skin, and balanced, even features. At five feet seven, she was only a half inch taller than me, and just like me, she had thick, wavy dark brown hair. This was ideal, because I preferred for our offspring to have some chance of resembling us. Resembling me. To cut down on the questions and the assumptions. To help me bond with the child.
As a girl, I’d always had a vague idea that someday I would have kids. I babysat here and there during high school. I held babies at church and weddings. After college, then grad school, I was busy building my career. And I hadn’t found the right man. If I waited too long, I’d have to do it alone. Fortunately, I met Hal.
When I met Hal, he was married. And slightly drunk. I was covering the 1997 Legal Aid awards dinner where my college professor was being recognized for her work analyzing wage disparities based on gender, focusing on the working poor. I’d asked my editor for the assignment even though it wasn’t my normal beat. I’d write the story about Judith, and wouldn’t my alma mater be proud. As it turned out, Hal was there receiving a “lifetime achievement” award for his volunteer work with Legal Aid. When he accepted the award in front of five hundred guests, he said, “Thank you, but I hope this doesn’t mean my lifetime is over.” The crowd groaned. Of course we’d all heard that joke a hundred times, but something about the way he said it made me laugh.
Later at the photo shoot, when all the award recipients lined up, I swear he winked at me. I snapped a few extra shots of him for myself, which, according to journalistic standards, may have been slightly unprofessional. I was looking down at my viewfinder, making sure I had the shots, when I sensed his presence.
“Did you get what you needed?” he said.