"Good." I glance at the clock, it's noon, which means it's eight in the evening where she is. "How was yours?"
"Good. Just got done with tea and I'm sat down to watch the telly."
"When's your appointment again?" I know when her appointment is. It's next Tuesday at ten in the morning.
She knows I know, but she confirms anyway. "It's next Tuesday at ten in the morning."
"Gem?" Jesus, just say it.
"Yeah?"
"You have a second option available. If, you know, you wanted to go a different route."
"What would that be?"
"You could come here. To my house. Instead." I can't believe I actually got the words out.
"Franco?" It's quiet.
"I'm offering to help you try to conceive," I pause because I'm suddenly sweaty and feeling asshole-ish again because she may think this is the worst idea she's ever heard, "naturally."
"Hold on a sec," she says quickly. I hear a racket and shuffling, doors opening, doors closing. Another door opening. Another door closing. "Sorry, couldn't talk, my roommate was in the room."
"Where are you now?"
"In my car."
"Can you talk now?"
Silence.
"Gem?"
Silence.
"Gem, talk to me. Please."
"Are you serious, Franco?"
"I couldn't be more serious if I tried."
Silence.
"You don't have to answer me now—"
She interrupts. "You know I only want a child, right? God, that sounded insensitive," she adds under her breath. "What I mean is, I value you and your friendship very much, Franco. More than you know, I've never had a friend like you. But at the end of the day our lives are on different continents. I would never try to force my way into your life." She's stammering through her thoughts. "I just want a child with my last name to raise and love." She pauses and whispers, "Shit, this isn't coming out properly."
It's my turn to interrupt and try to help because I'm the one who barged in and turned her world upside down. "Gem, listen to me. I would like you to fly to San Diego and stay at my house with me for a few days where we have some privacy. We've had sex. It was fantastic as I recall. We'll do it again. Repeatedly. I'm healthy. I'm clean. I'm a pretty outstanding dude, if I do say so myself. I come from good parents, I didn't have a fucked up home life. There's no history of disease or mental illness on either side of my family, other than my paternal grandmother's Alzheimer's. I drink a few times a week, but it's rarely in excess. And I'll admit to smoking weed on occasion, though it's been almost a year since I last did, and nothing harder than that...ever. I'll do everything I can to give you the baby you want. And when you go home, no one has to know. Even when, yes I said when, you get pregnant, no one has to know who the father is. You can tell them, and the kid, you went through with the appointment you have scheduled that they don't know about anyway. I'll remain anonymous."
"What's in it for you, Franco?" she whispers.
"Your happiness." That's it. That's all I want.
She sniffles. She's crying.
"Gem, I'm going to be honest. The thought of you going to some sterile clinic and being filled with some stranger's seed makes me sad. Conception should be more personal than that. I'm not perfect, but I could offer you a connection that you wouldn't get otherwise. Just think about it. Not to mention that you'd be carrying the coolest kid ever created. Our genes? Together? The possibilities? The potential for sarcasm alone would be off the charts. And forget about looks, Jesus, she'd be adorable."
She laughs, it's muffled through the tears. "She?"
"Or he, whatever. Either one would be graced with good looks unlike those the world has ever seen."
"Sarcasm and looks, that alone is tempting." She's playing along now, which means the shock is wearing off.
And now that I've relaxed too, I can bow out and give her some space. "Please don't answer me tonight. Think about it. This is important, and I want you to do whatever feels right for you. If it's what you already have planned, that's awesome. If it's me, that's awesome. Our friendship doesn't change either way, you're stuck with me in that department."
Silence.
"Gem, did I just fuck everything up?" I whisper. Oh God, I just fucked everything up.
The silence is only hesitation this time before her voice says softly, "No. Not at all. I was just thinking how thankful I am that my blind date was such a wanker or I wouldn't have a friend like you."
"God bless the wankers."
"Cheers to that. God bless the wankers."
"Now go back inside. And call me tomorrow."
"I will. Thanks, Franco. For everything."
"Anytime. And always. Night, Gem."
"Night."
Tapping the red circle on my phone, I sit back in my chair, close my eyes, and begin the countdown to tomorrow.
Thursday, February 15
(Franco)
I can't describe how much I love seeing her name come up on my cell screen. Today it's mixed with nervousness. "What's up, Gem?"
"Yes," she says.
"Yes?" I ask apprehensively. I don't want to get excited if this is a false positive and I'm interpreting it wrong.
"Yes, I'd like to come to America next week and try this with you." It's her determined voice.
"You would?"
"I would. Knock me up, please."
I have to laugh because she's trying to ease this odd exchange with humor. "I'll do my best."
"It looks like the best flights I can find will be arriving this Sunday evening and leaving Wednesday morning. Is that okay with you?"
"I get to show you around San Diego, and we get to snuggle and make babies for three nights?"
"That's the plan."
"Or we could just stay naked and not leave the house?"
"If you like, yeah."
"I like."
"Is that a yes, then?" she asks.
"It's a hell yes," I confirm.