Where There's Smoke

“You could have the same thing by going straight to a sperm bank.”

He seemed flustered. “I know, but... Well, it might sound stupid but that’s all a bit too anonymous.” His face was very red now. “I wouldn’t like the thought of letting just anyone have my... my child, if you know what I mean.”

It had never occurred to Kate that a man might feel the same way she did. “You do know that you wouldn’t have any of a father’s rights, don’t you? You’d still only be the donor. The child wouldn’t legally be yours, and there wouldn’t be any contact between us afterwards. Assuming we go ahead, obviously.”

“Yes, I understand that.”

“And it’ll mean a lot of inconvenience. The clinic’s in Birmingham, and you’ll have to make a lot of trips. They need quite a few... quite a few samples.”

He nodded acceptance.

“I’ll pay expenses,” Kate went on, briskly, shutting out the thought of what she was discussing. “For your time as well as travel. I’ll pay you either a flat fee or a daily one each time you go.”

Alex shook his head, emphatically. “I don’t want paying.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to do it for nothing.”

“I’d be doing it because I want to.”

Kate decided not to argue. She still hadn’t decided anything yet, so there was no point. “You’ll have to be tested for things like HIV and hepatitis,” she continued. “And you’ll have to go back for a second HIV test after six months. They won’t actually go ahead with the — er — the treatment until you’ve had that.”

He looked startled.

“Is that a problem?” Kate asked.

“Oh, no, it’s just... I didn’t expect it to take so long, that’s all.”

“They do the same tests on every donor. It isn’t any reflection on you personally.”

“No, no, it’s okay, really. I just didn’t realise. But it’s no problem.”

Kate tried to think of what else she had to say. Nothing came to mind. “Is there anything you’d like to ask?”

Alex minutely repositioned his knife and fork on his plate. Except for the piece he had dropped into the glass, his omelette was still untouched. “Are you married?”

Kate stared at him, levelly. “Why?”

He was disconcerted by her reaction. “Sorry, I–I know it’s none of my business. I just wondered if you were doing this because you were single and wanted to, or whether you were married and your husband was... was...” he gestured with his knife, stepping around the reference to sterility “... wasn’t able to have children,” he finished. “Your advert didn’t say one way or the other.”

Her face had become hot. “Does it matter?”

“No, of course not. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

He was so obviously reluctant to offend that Kate relented. “No, I’m not married. I’m doing this because I want to.”

“Good. I mean, you know, good for you.”

Kate studied him for a few seconds. He picked up his knife and fork and half-heartedly began to cut up the omelette.

“Why are you so nervous?” She had asked the question without intending to.

He shot her a quick look. “I’m not nervous. Not really,” he amended, as though realising there was no point denying it. “I’ve just, you know, never done anything like this before.”

He looked so chagrined that Kate couldn’t keep from smiling. “It isn’t something I’ve made a habit of, either.”

He glanced up at her, then smiled himself. “No, I suppose it isn’t,” he acknowledged. His smile faded. “I expect you’ll have interviewed quite a few other people, though. I mean, I know I won’t be the only one and... Well, it’s a bit nerve-racking, that’s all.”

Kate didn’t correct him. He had gone back to playing with his omelette. His face was serious again.

“Is this so important to you?” she asked.

He didn’t speak for a moment. Kate got the impression he was wrestling with the answer. Then he looked across at her. His eyes were a darker blue than Lucy’s. “Yes,” he said, simply.

“Why?”

He looked down at his plate. “I want children. I’m just not... I’m not the marrying kind. I’m not gay, it’s nothing like that. I just can’t see myself settling down and having a normal family or...” His voice tailed off, as though he had changed his mind about what he was going to say. “This seems like the next best thing.”

“Even though you’ll never see the baby? Not even know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Kate felt brutal, but she had to be sure he understood.

All at once his face looked immeasurably sad. He stared at the unlit candle in the centre of the table, but Kate doubted he saw it. “I’ll know it’s there, though.”

He came to himself with a little start. “If you decide to choose me as the donor, that is. I don’t want you to think I’m taking anything for granted.”

Now Kate looked away. “I’ve been keeping you from your lunch,” she said, going back to her salad.

She asked him for his card as they left the restaurant. “I’ll phone you next week and let you know what I’ve decided,” she told him, feeling both cowardly and pompous.