... and Baby Makes Two (14 page)

Fingerprinting takes a long time? Why? Jane couldn't take an undefined, long morning off from work. Could she? She'd never done it. Never tried. She wasn't the kind of person who did that. This wasn't the kind of firm that allowed it. Jane wasn't sure if she should interpret this as a bad sign or as a test. These things are never obvious. Let it be a test. Mothers sometimes need to take whole mornings off from work, don't they? So. Go to the INS.

Jane never managed a true list of the pros and cons of motherhood. It's not a step that works well on paper. She never finished questioning herself about proceeding, but she proceeded anyway. It was like color soaking into fabric. Little by little, it clung to her, until it was part of her.

…

At
8
:
30 A.M.,
there was already a long, long, long, long, long line of people at the INS. They snaked around stretch-o-ropes and out into the hall. As she was promoted through the line, Jane could see that
there were four or five cubicles where tired people would fingerprint everyone on that line, but never look at them.

While she was waiting, and clutching her appointment letter, Jane noticed a blurry color television with a built-in VCR. The INS showed movies to those waiting in line. Jane hadn't noticed the television at first. But when a fingerprinter came over to put in a new movie, Jane groaned. Did this mean she would be waiting for two hours? Or more? What if they showed
The Godfather
? Did that mean an even longer wait? Was she expected to leave before Michael Corleone became head of the family?

They played
George of the Jungle.
When scantily clad George bonked into a tree and fell down, Jane heard a throaty giggle. Teresa was on line, six people ahead of Jane. She was easy to spot. She wore the most expensive clothes Jane had ever seen.

“I canceled lunch with a client, just in case this runs late. You?” Teresa asked.

Jane had canceled a staff meeting. And her staff had looked entirely too pleased about that.

They chatted through the other people on line. From time to time, they watched George fall down again. Teresa wondered aloud if this is what kids watch these days. It didn't seem educational. But eventually George found true love, and Jane and Teresa found the front of the line. Teresa's formality never faltered.

“I came here this morning with an out-clause in my head. I keep telling myself that this is all still theoretical, this adoption, this child.” Teresa seemed to be talking to her shoes. She spoke slowly and never looked up.

“But this isn't theory. I'm going to do this. I'm hungry to do this. I'm starving. I'm adopting a baby from China. I'm going to be a mother.” Still talking to the shoes. Nice shoes. Awkward pause. Jane needed to state the obvious.

“This is hard.”

“Yes. I'm narrowing down my agency search, but honestly, I can't
tell why one agency would be better than another. I suppose it's a personal reaction to the individuals? I don't know.”

Jane made a mental note: start agency searching.

The fingerprinting process was very high-tech. It involved computers and glass screens. No paper and ink. Jane studied the ridges and whorls on her hands until Mr. Fingerprinter grabbed her thumb and started the process. It took only a few minutes, and then he turned his back on her. Jane was lost. What happens next?

“Excuse me? What happens next?”

“What are you doing?”

“I'm asking you a question. What happens next?”

“No. What are you doing?”

“I'm asking you a question. What happens next?”

The supervisor stepped in.

“What are you doing?” he asked Jane.

“Well, I'm trying to ask a question.”

“No. Why are you being fingerprinted? What are you doing with the prints? Getting citizenship? What? Let me see your letter.”

He took two seconds to read it, then said, “Your fingerprints will go to the FBI for clearance, then back to the INS with your paperwork. Good luck, Mommy. Next!”

…

Jane returned from the INS, sat at her PC, and Googled adoption agencies: “adoption agency,” “China,” “single mother.” The results spilled out with blinding blue underlines. Each “welcome” sounded the same. Each offered the same instructions and advice. Some were more religious than others. Some assembled the dossier for you and charged a hefty fee for doing it. Some dealt only with China adoptions, some were multinational. And then she saw an agency called Founding Mothers. It specialized in helping single women
adopt. Founding Mothers. She gave the site a quick read, and that was it. She had chosen her agency. Done.

Jane planned to lie about how she chose her agency. She would never admit to this slipshod research. She would fake a story about a detailed list. She looked for their phone number—it was a Brooklyn number. She found a link to e-mail the agency. She composed a formal and formidable introduction and request for documents to initiate an adoption. Her e-mail read like a letter of introduction to the King of Sweden. Just in case they were judging her by this initial contact, they would have to take her
so
seriously. And their reply would give her a sign about whether or not she should proceed, whether or not this was the right agency for her. Did Founding Mothers know how much pressure was on their reply? Within the hour, she received this e-mail:

Yes, Jane was that same Jane Howe. And now, Jane Howe had her agency.

Jane returned to the gym, while Ray claimed to be home meditating. She chose to believe him. She quietly rejoiced that he wouldn't be able to ask Peter about his wife again. Not that she was thinking about Peter. Ever. In fact, she was actively not thinking of him when she packed her clothes for the gym: her tightest yoga
pants, her littlest midriff. She wore her hair in a bouncy ponytail. She put on makeup. She looked fake, like an advertisement for a gym.

She sprinted on the treadmill until boredom set in. She went over to find her weights. She studied the selection of shiny weights, opting to start with a low, low, easy size, and suddenly there was Peter. He wore shorts and a NYC Marathon shirt. Had he run a marathon? Did he want Jane to know? Were those tinted contacts or were his eyes really green?

“Where's your friend?” Peter asked.

“Home. He's a better person than me. He doesn't need the gym.”

“Well, I do.”

Jane decided that his eyes were really green like that. No contacts. He looked like a fast-forward of Brad Pitt with engraved laugh lines. They said something positive about his character, didn't they?

Peter was using heavy weights, so Jane chose a larger weight than she really wanted, did two bicep curls, and exchanged them for a lighter weight.

“Don't move your elbow like that,” Peter advised. He placed his hands gently on her elbows. She tried not to flinch.

“Keep your elbow at your waist. Like this. Don't jerk your arm up, or you'll hurt yourself. Form is really important with weights.”

“Got it.” She looked in the mirror. They looked like they were ready to sing a song in a Rodgers & Hammerstein musical. They were a picture.

“So, Jane. Since we work in the same building, maybe we can hook up for lunch sometime.”

Jane wanted so much to say yes. That's why she said, “No. I usually eat at my desk. But thanks anyway.”

“Or dinner. There are so many restaurants in our neighborhood that I really want to check out. And I hate to go to restaurants alone. What do you say?”

“Oh, I don't know. I mean. No. Thanks, but I don't think it's a good idea.”

“Oh.”

He went back to his weights, and he looked a little angry. Jane didn't think that Mr. Married Peter had any business being mad. He shouldn't be asking her out on a date, right?

“I'm not asking you out on a date, you know. I'm married.”

“Yes, I found that out. Eventually” Now Jane sounded a little angry.

“I just thought that we could be friends. Why can't you be friends with me?”

Because you're gorgeous and smart and charming and nice and warm, and I like you way too much. And I want to have a child, and I'm even working on that, and you look like such good Daddy material, it makes me want to break my own teeth. That's what she wanted to say. She couldn't think up a polite lie quickly enough. So Peter continued.

“Dinner buddies. We could be dinner buddies. We both have to eat. Please? You're looking at a guy with no dishes and a big appetite. Look at me. I'm hungry. I'm wasting away. You can help me out, or you can turn the page.”

She smiled. She relented. They would become dinner buddies.

…

The Founding Mothers DTC checklist came with a bright red folder on which Barbara had written, “Building a Family” in gold letters. Jane could check off five columns of progress: Obtained, Reviewed by Founding Mothers, Notarized, Certified, Authenticated. A list with levels. Ooh. Her dossier would contain a big pile of paper.

1. The Homestudy—this scared Jane the most. A social worker must come to her home and inspect it, her, three letters of reference, and her life. This verdict would sway the entire process.
   

2. State Report—this required her to give Albany a list of every
   

   address she had inhabited since she was eighteen, and it would prove, on a state level, that she was not a crook.
   

3. P
   OLICE
   R
   EPORT—THIS MEANT A TRIP TO POLICE HEADQUARTERS AND ANOTHER FINGERPRINTING.
   I
   T WOULD PROVE, ON THE CITY LEVEL, THAT SHE WAS NOT A CROOK.
   

4. F
   INANCIAL
   R
   EPORT—THIS WAS A FORM PROVIDED BY
   C
   HINA WHERE SHE LISTED HER DEBTS AND ASSETS.
   S
   HE NEEDED ONLY TO BE ABOVE THE POVERTY LEVEL TO QUALIFY
   

5. M
   EDICAL
   R
   EPORT—THIS WAS ANOTHER FORM PROVIDED BY
   C
   HINA.
   I
   T REQUIRED A GENERAL CHECKUP AND TESTS FOR
   HIV
   AND
   TB
   .
   

6. L
   ETTER TO THE
   C
   HINA
   C
   ENTER OF
   A
   DOPTION
   A
   FFAIRS (
   CCAA
   )—THIS WAS A SORT OF COVER LETTER TO THE DOSSIER.
   T
   HERE WAS NO TEMPLATE TO FOLLOW, BUT SHE ABSOLUTELY HAD TO GAIN
   C
   HINA'S TRUST, CONVEY HER PERSONALITY, AND EXPLAIN WHY SHE HAD CHOSEN TO ADOPT, WHY
   C
   HINA, AND HOW WELL SHE WOULD TREAT THE CHILD.
   A
   LL ON ONE PAGE.
   

7. P
   HOTOS—THIS WOULD BE TWO PAGES OF PHOTOS THAT SHOWED
   J
   ANE, HER FAMILY, HER HOME, ALL CAPTIONED, COLORFUL, AND HAPPY.
   

8. B
   IRTH
   C
   ERTIFICATE—EASY.
   

9. P
   ASSPORT—EASY.
   

10. P
    ROOF OF
    E
    MPLOYMENT—EASY.
    

11. M
    ARRIAGE
    C
    ERTIFICATE OR
    D
    IVORCE
    D
    ECREE OR
    L
    ETTER OF
    S
    INGLE
    S
    TATUS—A LITTLE EMBARRASSING.
    T
    HIS WAS A NOTARIZED LETTER, STATING THAT SHE WAS, IN FACT, UNMARRIED.
    N
    EVER BEEN MARRIED, STILL NOT MARRIED.
    S
    INCERELY,
    J
    ANE
    H
    OWE.
    

12. D
    OCUMENT
    I
    -171
    H—This would prove, on a federal level, that Jane was not a crook. It could take months to receive. A copy would be sent to Jane and to China and to all the twelve apostles, maybe.