Halfway There Read Free

pregnant, don’t you?”
    â€œNo. We talked about having a baby before that. My sister has nothing to do with it.”
    â€œSure. Fine. Let’s pretend I believe you. Why now?”
    â€œI’m not getting any younger.”
    â€œOh, that’s a great reason to have a kid.”
    We had agreed a long time ago that I would be the one to get pregnant. We had joked about it. Having a kid was always something we could do later. There was always time to have one. We had never been in any rush, but now, all of a sudden, time had slipped away from us. All of a sudden, getting pregnant seemed like a “now or never” proposition.
    â€œDon’t you want to have one?” I changed the subject.
    â€œI wanted to adopt. You were the one who wanted to have one yourself.” She leaned over to get herearplugs from the nightstand. “Let’s talk about this in the morning. I’m pooped. Okay?”
    I rolled over onto my side and pulled Ellen’s arm over my stomach. She kissed me on my cheek. “I love you,” she said. I pushed my butt up against her and listened as her breathing became deep and even. I lay awake for a long time until, finally, my restless mind relaxed, and I too fell asleep.
    The next morning, I was up early and at the computer. I could hear Ellen downstairs talking to the cats. They were engaged in the usual morning ritual during which Ellen waved the can of cat food in front of them and then slowly opened it as they meowed and purred their approval. Raleigh, the biggest and most obnoxious of the group, was, as always, the loudest. Most likely he was already up on the counter trying to get at the juicy morsels. While Ellen tended to the cats, I searched the Internet for sperm banks. The California Cryobank was at the top of the list.
    Ellen came up with coffee. “What’cha doin’?”
    â€œI thought I’d see how much getting pregnant is going to cost us.” I took the cup from her hands and showed her the website.
    â€œHey, go to the list of donors first. Let’s see what they’ve got.”
    I clicked the link and a form opened up. We’d have to register first. This required names, addresses, and the all-important credit card number to set up an account. That brought about a whole discussion concerning which card to use, how much was on what card, and why in the hell we had so many of them in the first place. Eventually, we decided to use the American Express card as a compromise. At long last we were ready to look at the list of donors.
    It was extensive. I think every nationality, ethnicity, and educational background was listed. I was thankful that there was a way to sort through them using a set of criteria. Now, all we had to do was decide exactly what criteria we wanted to use.
    â€œOkay, let’s start with ethnicity. Irish, right?” I asked.
    â€œNo, Scottish mostly, with some Irish, English, and Jewish thrown in for good measure.”
    â€œI have no idea how to look up all that.”
    â€œYou could just go with basic white,” she suggested. After a look from me, she said, “Just type in ‘Scottish’ and see what happens.”
    I typed and hit enter. A list of about two hundred numbers and profiles appeared on the screen. “Now what?”
    â€œHair.”
    â€œWhy is hair so important?”
    â€œYou like my hair. Wouldn’t you want our kid to resemble me just a little?”
    â€œNo. One of you is enough already.”
    â€œYou’re not funny.”
    â€œHey, here’s one. He’s got brown wavy hair and blue eyes. Sounds like he could be your brother,” I said.
    â€œYeah, but look at what he does for a living. He’s a maintenance man.”
    â€œWhen did you get so snooty?”
    â€œI don’t know. I would want more for my kid.”
    â€œGood Lord, Ellen, genes aren’t destiny, you know.”
    â€œFine, but look at what he called