“Fathering Gretchen's child?” Adam clarified. “Honestly? It's not something I would do, no. There are way too many complications. Emotionally, financially, and mentally. And that's just now, while Gretchen is trying to get pregnant. What about the future? Gretchen's single, right?”
“Yes.”
“What about when she gets involved with someone? That's one more person involved in how your child is raised. And what legal recourse will you have if something goes wrong in your friendship with Gretchen?”
“I hadn't thought about that,” I said, still holding Dexter's bowl of food.
“Don't hate me for pointing this out,” Adam began, “but what if there's a chance that you and Daniel can work things out? Will this spoil that? Or if that's not an option, what about other guys? I don't know too many gay men who'd jump at the chance to get involved with someone who not only has a kid, but also a lesbian coparent to boot.”
I stared into space, digesting Adam's advice. Dexter, digesting nothing and hating me for it, reached up and sank a claw into my leg. “Ow!” I exclaimed, kicking him off and setting his bowl on the floor. “Thanks for giving me your input, Adam.”
“You asked for it,” Adam said, and flashed me a weak smile. He looked at his watch and said, “Are we okay? Because I have to go to Jersey to have dinner with a client, and I'd better get back to Martin's to change.”
“Martin,” I growled. “I'd like to wring that little fucker's neck.”
“Leave me out of it,” Adam said. “I'll call you before I go back to Eau Claire.”
My afternoon meeting was with Josh Clinton. One of the perks of being in charge of Lillith Allure's advertising was being able to occasionally employ Josh to photograph Zodiac's print ads when his schedule permitted. It gave him and Sheila extra time to be together.
Violet wasn't behind her desk when I arrived at work. I walked into my office and found her and Josh seated at my desk with the sound of artillery fire emanating from my computer.
“Go for the tank! Get the tank!” Josh screamed.
“I can't!” Violet shrieked. “The helicopter isâ”
“I'll get the helicopter. You worry about the tank,” Josh commanded.
I audibly cleared my throat. Josh and Violet looked up guiltily. There was a loud noise from the computer, as what I assumed was either a tank or a helicopter exploded.
“Am I that late?” I asked.
Violet clicked a few keys on the keyboard, stood up, and said, “I wasn'tâuhâI mean, I was just leaving.”
Josh moved to the chair in front of my desk and said, “I forced her to entertain me until you got here.”
“I didn't even know there were games on this thing,” I said, pointing at the computer.
“It's hidden in the financial logs,” Violet confessed. “It's on the network. We were playing against the mail room. I'll be at my desk if you need me.”
“Thanks, Violet,” I said.
“Yeah,” Josh said with an impish grin. “Tanks.” With his expressive brown eyes and shaggy brown hair, Josh always looked adorable, but he was even more irresistible when he was being funny.
Once we were alone, I asked, “How are the wedding plans going?”
“Not bad,” Josh assessed. “So far, Sheila has bought every bridal magazine and book in publication. I've been wracking my brain to put together the guest list, which isn't as easy as I thought it would be. We initially wanted to have a small wedding, but every day there's someone else who Sheila remembers to add to the list. Some distant aunt or friend whose fragile ego will be shattered if they're not invited.”
“And just think, you've only just begun,” I said.
“Thank you. You just reminded me of last night's trauma,” Josh said wryly. “In the middle of the night, Sheila woke me up, frantic, because she wanted to know what our song was.”
“Your song?” I asked.
“Actually, that's what I said. âYour Song,' by Elton John, because I sang it to her at Gretchen's retreat when we took our first vacation together. But Sheila insisted it was âWe've Only Just Begun.' Apparently that was playing in the background when we first met.”
“Wait,” I said. “I thought you and Sheila met at a photo session. You play the Carpenters during your photo sessions?”
“No,” Josh insisted, shuddering. “Technically we met at a photo shoot. But it was all business. The next day, we ran into each other at the dentist. I was leaving from having a cavity filled, and she was arriving to have her teeth bleached.”
“How romantic,” I lied.
“Yeah, right,” Josh protested. “How could Sheila resist me? I was drooling all over myself with cotton stuffed in my cheek. Despite that, I asked her out.”
“And the Muzak version of âWe've Only Just Begun' was playing in the dentist's office,” I surmised. “Leave it to Sheila to remember that.”
“Leave it to Sheila to remember that at two in the morning,” Josh complained. “Anyway, tomorrow we're going on a tour of every bakery in Manhattan to find the perfect wedding cake.”
“If I'm not mistaken, they have bakeries in Eau Claire.”
“We have to find it
now,”
Josh said, obviously imitating Sheila. “What if we don't like any of the cakes in Eau Claire? How can the cakes there be better than the ones here? What if we get to Eau Claire and they can't make it in time for the wedding?”
“Who's
they?
” I wondered.
“That's what I asked,” Josh said. “I slept on the couch. If I had known that I'd be woken up and quizzed about our musical history, I'd have slept there last night, too.” We both laughed. “This wedding is making her neurotic but, boy, do I love her,” Josh said, sounding surprised.
“Good,” I said. “You deserve each other.”
“Speaking of good partnerships, I heard about that offer from Lillith Allure. Did you accept it?”
“I had no choice,” I said. “If I hadn't, I'd have lost my only client and probably gotten fired anyway. I like the tax bracket I'm in. I'm far too comfortable to start eating Ramen noodles and have my phone turned off every other month.”
“There's no way that would happen,” Josh said. “Every ad agency in the country would be calling with job offers.”
“Not if my phone was turned off. I'm guessing the transition will take place quickly, so we can start work on the next ads as soon as possible. I've got a lot of work ahead of me in the next few months. I don't know how I'm going to have time to sleep, let alone impregnate Gretchen.”
“What?” Josh asked.
Thinking about moving into a new office, streamlining four months of work into two months, and the impending nuptials of Zodiac's star model had made my mind wander. Especially after nearly getting hit by a truck and my conversation with Adam. I'd completely forgotten Josh was in the room and didn't realize I was using my “out loud” voice.
“Impregnate Gretchen?” Josh repeated.
“No. I said, âThat ingrate, Gretchen.' I referred Lillith to her and Gretchen won't take on any new clients. That ingrate. Geez.” Josh stared at me, frowning silently, so I asked, “What?”
“I was waiting for you to say, âYeah. That's the ticket.' What's the story, Blaine?”
“First of all, I know she's your fiancée, but you can't tell Sheila. This is very personal, and I shouldn't even tell you, but I'm trying to make a decision, and I need to hear myself talk about it, I guess.”
“Okay,” Josh agreed. “My lips are sealed.”
“Gretchen has asked me to be a sperm donor so she can have a child. However, if I do it, I want to be more than just a donor. I want to be a diaper-changing, baby-burping, boo-boo-kissing, PTA-joining parent. The works. And she's fine with that. More than fine, actually. She's all for it.”
“So what's the problem?” Josh asked.
“You tell me,” I said, waiting for the inevitable cautionary advice.
“I think it's great,” he said.
I was skeptical, remembering how Adam had said a good friend would stay out of it and say,
That's great.
“I know it's going to change my life,” I said. “A heck of a lot more than changing employers will. I always wanted kids. I figured the circumstances would be a little different.”
I trailed off, and Josh caught my train of thought. “You thought you'd be a parent with someone like Daniel, maybe?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It seems more normal, doesn't it?”
“A lot of people would tell you otherwise,” Josh said, smiling.
“A lot of people can go to hell. I only meant that when Daniel and I were a couple, we discussed raising a child together. When he signed for three more years on
Secret Splendor,
it was as if he forgot all about it. He was suddenly the best thing in daytime drama, so he had no time for fatherhood. Well, I didn't forget about it. Then he sabotaged our plans to move in together by moving Blythe into the town house. Obviously our relationship wasn't stable enough to even think of bringing a child into it.”
“It's no wonder you're becoming a lesbian,” Josh joked.
“I'd rather be a lesbian any day than a back-stabbing liar. I'm still angry just thinking about what Daniel did to us.”
“Sheila feels like you're angry at her, too.”
“I know she was in an uncomfortable position. And I know it wasn't her place to tell me Daniel's plans for the town house. But it still feels like a betrayal. That's why I think it's best if she and I don't discuss Daniel. She won't be in that position again.”
“She wonders if things will ever be the same between you and her. But Sheila's not the only one affected,” Josh said. “Because of the tension, you and I haven't gotten together as much as we used to.”
“I know. That's my fault. I avoided everybody for a while. I don't want my problems with Sheila to change my friendship with you. Anyway, she and I have too much history not to work this out eventually.”
We both sat quietly, lost in thought, until Josh asked, “So, are you gonna do it?”
“Yes,” I said, annoyed because I hated to repeat myself. “I said Sheila and I have been friends for years. We'll work it out. We just need a little space right now.”
“No,” Josh said with a laugh. “I meant are you going to have a baby with Gretchen?”
“Oh, right. In all likelihood, I think it's going to happen. I just need to think about it a little longer. In fact, maybe over a game of racquetball?”
“Is that an invite?” Josh asked. His eyes lit up because he loved my gym. Sheila was a member of the Reebok Sports Club on the Upper West Side. Not only did it provide every piece of exercise equipment and workout class known to man, but it was a private, almost windowless facility with a steep membership fee. Which made it seem like an elitist day spa-cum-fortress. Whereas my gym was listed in magazines as being a cross between a gym and a nightclub. There was a regular rotation of deejays spinning club music, colorful lighting from a theatrical grid on the ceiling, and a membership application that required a headshot. Josh loved going there with me, not only for the ambiance, but because of his illicit sense that he was being unfaithful to Sheila's gym.
After a game of racquetball, a free-weight session, and a chamomile-infused steam bath, Josh and I went our separate ways. Still sipping my strawberry-banana protein smoothie from BodyWorks, I tossed my gym bag in my hall closet and hung up my Armani jacket. I decided to listen to my messages while I changed clothes.
The first message was from Violet, calling to tell me my itinerary for the next day and to let me know she'd finished her background check on Gavin, finding no reason why I shouldn't hire him.
It was the next message that made me start nervously winding my tie in my hands.
“Blaine? This is Shane. I don't know what it is this time, but Mom blew a gasket and is in the hospital. Well, the gasket in her heart. Valve. Some valve. Maybe you should call Dad. He knows more about it than I do. I'm going to the hospital now, but they wanted me to call you before I left. Later.”
Not knowing what to expect, especially after my brother's inarticulate assessment of our mother's health, I tried calling home. Of course there was no answer, which I assumed meant my mother had been taken to the hospital, as Shane had alluded. So I called my father's cell phone and learned that my mother was scheduled to have an operation after complaining about pains in her chest.
“If you want to come home, it's up to you,” my father said.
“Is it serious?” I asked.
“Open heart surgery is usually serious, Blaine,” my father said, sounding annoyed.
“They have to open her heart?”
“I'm pretty sure that's where the valve is. They said it's a bad valve in her heart. So I doubt they're going to open up her foot. But I'm not a doctor. I could be wrong.”
“Oh for the love of ”âI broke off to take a deep breath. “I'll be there as soon as I can, Dad.”
“Okay,” he said. “Take your time. We all know what a busy and important man you are. I have to go fill out insurance paperwork.”
Before I could start yelling, my father disconnected our call. I stared in disbelief at the receiver in my hand then dropped it on the floor before I lost control and threw it from my bedroom window.
Although my relationship with my father could never have been called warm, it had at least been civil while I was growing up. In his eyes, my triumphs as an athlete and a student were attributable to his good genes. My breakup with Sheila had been met with wary silence from both my parents. The news that I was engaged to Sydney seemed to elicit relief, and they joined the Keplers in giving us an expensive wedding, then left us to our own devices. Which, according to my father, had been why my marriage failed. I was obviously incapable of good judgment.