Point, Click, Love (14 page)

Annie rarely called her mother, instead waiting for her to make her weekly call. But suddenly she felt an urge to talk to her, maybe even float the idea of going home, if only for a fact-finding mission.

“Annie? To what do I owe the pleasure?” said her mom in a vaguely accusatory way. Maybe this was why Annie never called.

“Nothing,” said Annie. “Just calling. What’s up?”

“What’s up? A lot is up, let me tell you!”

“Yeah …” said Annie. If she didn’t insert a “yeah” or an “uh-huh” or some other indicator that she was listening and wanted to hear more, her mother would pause and wait for it.

“Well, your sister is going nuts trying to find a new school for Sally—”

“Why? What’s wrong with her old school?”

“Too much teaching to the test, that’s what she tells me. I don’t even know what that means. Do you?”

“Yes, it’s—”

“So now, instead of sending Sally to public school for free, she’s looking at private schools that cost twenty-five thousand a year, and that doesn’t even include book fees!”

“Wow,” said Annie.

“Meanwhile, Roger is expecting a pink slip any day now, so how they think they’re going to come up with that kind of money is beyond me.”

“How’s Dad doing?” asked Annie, trying to change the subject. She loved her sister but hated hearing her constant trials and tribulations.

“Your father? He’s suing the co-op board!”

“Huh?”

“Oh, something about the maintenance fees going up too fast. He’s still mad about the whole kitchen-remodel thing. Anyway, now that he’s not practicing anymore, he’s always looking for someone to sue, and the board president is such a schmuck he just couldn’t resist.”

“Well, as long as he’s enjoying himself,” said Annie, mimicking what her mom always said.

“Exactly! So what about you, Annie? Any news? Any boys?”

Annie knew that the only kind of news her mother was interested in was boy news. “No boys,” she said. But then she decided to add, “An old friend from Wharton is in town and we had dinner.”

“Really!”

“He dated Grace.”

“Oh, I love Grace. So who is he? What’s he do?”

“Don’t get too excited, Mom. He’s married with two kids.”

“Well, you never know …”

“You never know what? He might get a divorce? Is that what we’re hoping for? I can be a homewrecker?”

“No, Annie, of course not. But maybe the marriage was already on the rocks.”

“No one’s on the rocks. Everybody’s happy. Anyway, we had a nice time.”

“Well, good. You know, I’ve been hearing about so many eligible men lately! I mean, just the other day Margaret told me that Jimmy Hunter is getting a divorce.”

“Jimmy Hunter from high school?”

“Of course—you know another Jimmy Hunter? Anyway, and then I also found out that the new guy in 3C is single. Forty years old and never been married!”

All this talk about expensive elementary schools, antagonistic co-op boards, and pink slips from Wall Street investment firms was starting to make Annie feel queasy. What was she thinking? Did she really think she could move home and create a fabulous New York life for herself without also enduring the constant indignities of the big city, not to mention the relentless matchmaking of her mother?

“I’m going to have a baby!” Annie blurted out. She’d had no intention of telling her mother about her plans, had even been thinking that maybe she would abandon the idea. But somewhere inside she felt the need to say it, to make it real, to end her wavering.

“What? You’re pregnant? Oh, my God.”

“No, Mom, I’m not pregnant. But I want to get pregnant.”

“Well, of course you do, dear! We all want you to get pregnant! And as soon as you find a nice boy you can start trying right away!”

“No, I’m not going to find a nice boy. I’m going to have a baby on my own.”

“Oh, please, Annie. This is too much. Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“I’m not, Mom. I’ve already looked into sperm donors.”

“Sperm donors! You’re going to have a baby with some stranger?”

“Mother—”

“At least let me find a nice man to give you his sperm. Could you let me do that for you?”

“No, Mom. You can’t do that. It’s okay.” Annie was starting to feel a little sorry for her mother. How hard it must be to hear your daughter tell you that she had given up on finding a husband and was instead going to buy a jar of sperm from an unknown donor, squirt it into her body, and give birth to a child whom she would raise on her own in a colorless subdivision of Overland Park, Kansas, a thousand miles away.

“Oh, Annie. Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, Mom. I’m sure. Really, I can handle this.”

“Annie, I have no doubt you can handle this. Of all my kids, you’re the one who can handle anything.”

“Thanks, Mom. And I’ve got a great donor all picked out. I think you’d like him.”

“Yeah? What’s he like?”

“Supersmart, handsome, ambitious, charming …”

“How do you know all this?”

“They tell you. It’s all online.”

“So I guess you know what you’re doing.”

“Yes, I know what I’m doing.”

“All right. I’m behind you, Annie. One hundred percent.”

One conversation with her mother and Annie had committed herself to having a baby. Not only that, she’d finally settled on a sperm donor—Rick. It seemed so obvious once she began describing him to her mother. He was perfect, the kind of guy girls
dream of bringing home to meet their parents. If Annie couldn’t bring Rick home with a ring on her finger, at least he could father her child.

Annie still had a soft spot for Bob. There was something about his profile that was so endearing. She had to admit, Bob seemed more sincere than Rick. More modest, more real. But how could she choose modesty and sincerity over brains and ambition? And who was to say that her child wouldn’t be all of those things anyway? She was sincere and modest. She could give those qualities to her child.

Two weeks later, Annie went to see her gynecologist, who told her that she was in great shape. In fact, it was possible that Annie would need no interventions to get pregnant—no hormones, no egg harvesting, no in vitro fertilization, just squirt it up there and wait. The doctor told her to move forward on getting the sperm, and she would take care of the rest.

That evening after work, Annie sat down at her computer, logged on to the sperm bank’s website, and input Rick’s number. She had already read his profile many times, pored over his personal essay, dissected the comments of the sperm bank’s staff members, all of whom seemed to have a crush on him. She knew with all her heart that Rick was the right choice. She was no longer nervous or apprehensive, no longer had any doubts. She was filled with excitement that she had made a decision and was moving forward into a new stage of her life.

Next to Rick’s profile was a big red button that read “purchase.” How many times had Annie clicked on just such a button to buy a sweater, a book, or skin cream? Now she was about to purchase a baby online.

She clicked.

Immediately the screen turned gray and a little white pop-up window appeared. “We’re sorry,” the text read. “This donor has retired from our program. Vials from this donor are no longer
available. We do not expect to have any more vials from this donor in the future. Please visit our extensive database so you can choose a different donor. Thank you.”

Annie stared at the screen. This must be a mistake, she thought. She went back to the previous page and clicked again on the “purchase” button. Once again, the pop-up window appeared.

Annie could feel her throat tightening, her palms sweating, her heart racing. She was devastated—more than at any other time in her life. Never had she felt so distraught, not even when she broke up with Ben Weiner.

The whole point of this plan was to be in control, not to have to depend on a capricious man to create the life she wanted. And yet here she was, being told by her computer that the man she had chosen so meticulously to be the father of her child was no longer available.

Why had Rick “retired” from the program? Was he too busy building his empire to go to an office in Olathe, Kansas, and jack off into a cup? Did he feel like he had already given enough of himself, that he didn’t want to bring one more of his offspring into the world? Was he afraid that he’d be walking down the street one day and see hordes of little Ricks staring up at him?

Annie had reached a point where she felt she knew Rick, that she had a real connection to him. Maybe if Rick knew about her, he would feel the same way. Maybe he would reconsider and want to give away his sperm one more time. But how? How could she reach out to an anonymous sperm donor? How could she find him in a greater metropolitan area of two million people?

Annie didn’t know what she was going to do, but she knew she had to do something. She would not allow the thoughtless choices of a man to once again spoil her plans.

Chapter Ten

A
t the end of the last book club, Katie, Maxine, Claudia, and Annie had decided it was time to cut out the middleman—they would simply join a wine-tasting club instead. A work colleague of Claudia’s had told her about a club that met the first Thursday of each month at a local wine shop. For a nominal fee, they could taste up to eight wines, nibble on exotic cheeses, and listen to experts talk about things like bouquet, oxidation, and tannins.

None of them had ever been to a real wine tasting before, so they sat at the end of the long wooden table and watched as the ten other people swirled, sniffed, sipped, and spat their wine.

“I’m not spitting out my wine!” whispered Claudia in hushed horror.

“Why are they doing that?” asked Katie. “Gross!”

“They’re afraid they’re going to get drunk if they don’t,” said Maxine.

“I don’t think there’s any chance of that,” said Annie. “Not with these teeny portions.”

“I know,” said Claudia. “Can’t we get a whole glass?”

Claudia fell silent as the shop owner walked by and poured a small splash of wine into each person’s glass.

“I think you’ll find this one has a lovely oaky finish,” said a man standing at the other end of the table.

Katie tipped back her glass and shook out the last drop. “I’m finished. Pass the cheese.”

“Maxine, grab that bottle there,” said Annie.

“No way!” said Maxine. “I’ll get in trouble!”

“This is ridiculous,” said Claudia. “Whose idea was this anyway?”

“Yours!” said Maxine, Katie, and Annie simultaneously.

“Okay,” said Claudia. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” She waited until the shop owner walked into a back room, then reached over Maxine and grabbed an open bottle. She quickly filled their glasses. “Drink fast. I don’t want them to get suspicious.”

“This is pathetic. I would have gladly just paid full price for my wine.” Maxine never understood people’s delight in getting things for free—the free chocolate chip cookies on Midwest Airlines, the free samples of spanakopita and granola bars and chocolate truffles at Costco, the free appetizers during happy hour that were always lukewarm and stale. But then again, she was rich, so she knew better than to say anything about it.

“Yeah, but this is so much more fun!” said Claudia with a big smile.

“Why are you in such a good mood?” asked Katie.

“I don’t know. Aren’t I always?”

“No,” said Maxine, Katie, and Annie simultaneously.

“Well, then, lucky you, I’m in a good mood tonight!” Claudia knew she ought to temper her jollity, but she didn’t feel like holding back.

“What happened?” said Katie. “Did Steve get a job?”

Claudia tilted her head and gave her a look of mild disbelief.

“Did he make dinner?” asked Maxine.

“Did he close his Facebook account?” said Annie.

“Why do you think it has to be about Steve?” said Claudia. “I do have other things in my life, you know.”

“Yeah, like working for me,” said Annie. “When are you going to have that proposal finished?”

“Don’t be such a taskmaster.” Claudia had been allowing herself to miss a few deadlines and produce less-than-stellar work, because she knew Annie would give her a break.

“I swear,” said Annie, looking at Maxine and Katie. “She’s been such a slacker lately.”

“Claudia, a slacker?” asked Katie.

“Listen, there are more important things in life,” said Claudia.

“All right, then,” said Annie. “But don’t get mad at me when I have to fire your ass.”

“Do what you gotta do,” said Claudia with a shrug, but she wondered if maybe Annie was more displeased with her work than she’d thought.

“Wow,” said Maxine. “She’s not only happy, she’s downright Zen.”

“I’ve got a new attitude,” said Claudia.

“Me too,” said Katie. “But I wouldn’t exactly call it Zen.”

“Oh, yeah?” said Annie.

“More like pissed,” said Katie.

“Like drunk?” asked Claudia.

“Like off,” said Katie. “Pissed off.”

“Oh,” said Claudia. “That’s usually me.”

“Are you still upset about that guy?” asked Annie.

“Oh, no,” said Katie. “I’m not upset. More like embittered.”

“What a jerk,” said Maxine.

“But it’s not even about him,” said Katie. “It’s more like … like, what’s the point? What’s the point of dating and love and relationships and all that crap? It’s such a bunch of bullshit. There’s no such thing as love. It’s just lust. I knew that before, but I let myself forget.”

“Come on, Katie,” said Claudia with uncharacteristic sincerity. “You don’t really believe that.”

“What do you mean?” Katie said to Claudia. “You don’t have love
or
lust!”

Claudia stifled a smile, remaining silent. She knew that if she opened her mouth she’d likely say something that would give herself away.

“I don’t have love or lust!” said Annie excitedly.

“The only one who has any love around here is Maxine,” said Katie. “And lust too. She’s an aberration.”

“Oh, cut it out!” said Maxine, as she reached for another bottle of wine and filled everyone’s glass, not even bothering to wait for the shop owner to leave the room. “I’m so sick of hearing about how in love I am. How do you know?”