One Good Egg: An Illustrated Memoir (6 page)

HOROSCOPE:
LIBRA

When two Libras come together in a love affair, they form one of the most agreeable, romantic and well-balanced relationships around . . . Libra loves to be in love, and two together spells relationship bliss.

I would have a week on my bike, cycling through Door County (the tip of the thumb of Wisconsin) to consider, reconsider, and re-reconsider what we had done. But by the time I changed planes in Minneapolis, I was convinced I had done one of the best things in my life.

There was another sign written in the stars. We both loved the name Aurora for a girl.

Aurora

ORIGIN Latin; meaning DAWN
, Aurora Borealis, Aurora Australis
– Northern and Southern Lights named after Roman goddess of dawn. This name is popular in Italy, Norway, Switzerland.

I came up with D
ILLON
(Steve’s last name) J
EAN
(Lorene’s last name) B
ECKER
for a boy. Steve “quite liked the ring to it.”

“Dildo Pecker?” Lorene nixed it. “You can’t do that to a kid!”

I
n the month that followed, Lorene moved in little by little. A pillow, the dog’s bed, an extra cutting board, her favorite bowls, the popcorn popper. Her music would be drifting out of windows I had never opened when I came home from my morning bike rides.

We hadn’t decided that we would live in my house forever. Hers held a hundred years of family history and I was willing to move. But it was a decision we didn’t need to make for now. It was more than enough to know that we would spend the rest of our lives together. We planned to have a small civil union in Vermont the next summer, with a big after-party. And sometime before then, we each promised to propose to the other.

We spent the Fourth of July in 2001 at an old farmhouse in Vermont. It had been my college mentor’s retreat—no phone, no cell service, no TV. I had been given guest privileges in perpetuity. The weekend was unseasonably cold and rainy, and Lorene and I were wrapped up in a quilt, eating homemade strawberry ice cream in front of a fire. The dogs slept on the couch behind us.

“What are you thinking?” I asked, fishing for something to think about as I stared into the fire, possibly stumbling upon a big thought, like a whole new room in her head.

She took my bowl and set it down, and then she held my hands. “Will you marry me?”

The question took me by surprise; but I didn’t have to think about the answer. “I will,” I said.

We decided we would be married on that hearth, like the farmers up the road fifty-some years before us.

We met a couple of my old friends for dinner. I was starving by the time we ordered. Barbara smiled at me while we waited for our slices. “You got what you wanted.”

“Hope so. I was actually too hungry to know.”

The three of them were laughing. “I meant Lorene and the baby.”

Have you ever thought there were forms of happiness waiting for us to appropriate them by sheer recognition?

K
ATHERINE
M
OSBY

Private Altars

As You Wish, Jellyfish

Lorene and I bought
copies of
Taking Charge of Your Fertility
and
Alternative Families
and an ovulation predictor kit (OPK). Having a partner added an element of accountability—no chickening out, no procrastination. We studied the books in bed and compiled a list of questions.

I dug out the notes from the artificial insemination seminar I had attended back when Karen and I were together. It seems I had recorded everything
but
the answers to our questions.

Lorene made an appointment with Liz, the woman who’d run the seminar and the Couples Considering Parenting Support Group. She was standing by a conference table when we arrived. There was a large bag on it, and a speculum and a syringe sitting on top of a folder next to the bag. She introduced herself to Lorene, and the three of us seated ourselves around the bag end of the table.

“Well, how long have you two been together?”

Lorene and I answered at the same time.

Liz smiled and opened the folder. “Tell me about the dad. He’s a friend?”

“Steve’s an old friend. He’s also a writer; we met on vacation in Greece. The tricky part is he lives in Australia, although his job has a lot of flexibility. He travels quite a bit.”

“It’s great that he’s up for it. It’s going to be an adventure!” She uncapped her pen. Real Question #1: “Have you figured out how much contact you’d like him and his family to have with your child—in general terms? What’s the most? What’s the least? These are the kinds of things that go into your agreement.”

I answered, “We want to start with the minimum. Whatever Steve thinks he can manage, that way he can always do more over time. We really just don’t want him to do less—disappoint the child.”

Liz’s pen was still poised above the paper, her eyebrows expressing some difficulty in summarizing my answer. “What about the father’s financial responsibility?” She skipped down to the next set of lines.

“None. We’re going to pay for all the insemination stuff. When there’s a real baby, I hope he’ll pay for his own travel, to visit . . . ”