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All That Matters By S X Meagher 3 page

 

"I know you must talk about this with your doctor buddy," he said. "What does she think our chances are?"

 



"Well, she hasn't offered an opinion on us, but she did say that if it hadn't happened after a year, the odds weren't good for its happening without assistance."

 



"I think it's time to see the gynecologist again, Blair. I think we should try a few rounds of artificial insemination."

 



She nodded, feeling sick to her stomach. "I'll call and make an appointment. It'll take a while to get in, so we can try the usual way in January." Rolling over onto her belly to try to ease the cramps, she let her worry have its voice. This is as far as you're willing to go. And that's why you're so afraid to take this step. If this doesn't work, it's either no children or adoption.

 



„G

 



Blair got her period right on time in January, and after a few days of stalling, she called the doctor to make an appointment for an artificial insemination. "Let's see …" the receptionist said, "the doctor can see you at 8:00 a.m. on Friday. Your husband will have to be here early enough to provide a sample — so you can come anytime after 7:30 when we open."

 



"Can't he do that at home?" Blair asked.

 



"No, it has to be fresh."

 



"Oh, he's not going to like this," Blair said, imagining the argument that would ensue.

 



"No one does," the woman agreed. "Tell him that men come in here every week to do this. He's not gonna stand out in the crowd. We have magazines to look at, and you can be with him if that helps."

 



"Thanks," Blair said. She hung up, feeling the all-too-familiar knot in her stomach which accompanied every step down this slippery slope.

 



„G

 



That night Blair made one of David's favorite dinners and plied him with Cabernet before she mentioned the matter. "Honey, I got us an appointment with the gynecologist for Friday morning. We're gonna see the doctor at 8:00, so we have to be there early enough for you to …" Her eyebrows twitched a little, and she looked pointedly at his lap.

 



His eyes closed for just a second, and she could see the tense set of his mouth. She was fully prepared for a laundry list of complaints, but he just said, "Right." David got up and poured another glass of wine, drank it without pause, then walked by her on the way to the bedroom. "I'm turning in. See you tomorrow." He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, obviously a substitute for his usual kiss.

 



„G

 



On Friday morning, Blair accompanied David into a small room at the gynecologist’s office. “Are you sure you want me here?” she asked. “I think I'd need privacy.”

 



“You’re not me,” he said, giving her a strained smile. Unzipping his slacks, he removed them, folded them neatly and then took off his boxers.

 



“You get undressed? I’d think you’d just —"

 



“Hey …. a guy’s got a routine. This isn’t the day to screw with it.”

 



“But your routine doesn’t usually include me,” she reminded him, sparing a teasing smile. “I thought all bets were off.”

 



“Are you gonna help me or not?”

 



“Of course. Name it.”

 



He looked around the room, seeing nothing but a table with some well-worn “men's” magazines and a molded plastic chair. “Maybe we should have gone to a sperm bank. They have videos." He was in a sour mood, and Blair could see how tense he was. He'd smoked four cigarettes in the car on the way over, and the doctor's office was only fifteen minutes away. "Well, I guess we should start kissing. That never hurts.”

 



It was difficult for either of them to find the atmosphere conducive to arousal, but Blair gave it her all. She wasn't fond of David's smoking, but the smell didn't normally bother her much when they were being intimate. Today, when the whole set-up was not only clinical, but contrived, the odor was all she could think of. Nonetheless, she kissed her husband lasciviously, trying to block out everything but his body and the softness of his lips.

 



David was the best kisser she'd ever experienced, and she let his technique help her to crank up the heat. Despite her best efforts, David's penis knew this was a command performance, and it was experiencing stage fright. After a long time, she pulled away, noting that very little was happening.

 



"Why don't you let me give you a hand, honey?" she asked, wrapping her fingers around him.

 



He shrugged his agreement, then looked around the room again. "I need lotion or lube."

 



She did a double take. "You do?"

 



"I'm a lube guy. Can't do it dry."

 



"Boy, we've been having sex for ten years, and I had no idea."

 



With a thin smile, he said, "I'm a man of mystery."

 



It was clear that David didn't want to chat, so Blair looked around for supplies, quickly seeing there were none to be had. "I'll go ask for some K-Y Jelly. They always have that in a gynecologist's office."

 



"No!" He grabbed her by the arm. "They'll know why you need it!"

 



"Uh-huh." She nodded slowly, not understanding his point.

 



"Everybody will know that I'm having trouble," he said in a stage whisper. "This is embarrassing enough!"

 



The knot in her stomach returned with a vengeance. Giving David a look that she hoped was filled with understanding, she went to her oversized bag and rooted through it for a moment. With a flourish, she pulled out a small bottle of hand lotion. "How's this?"

 



He took it and made a face. "Lavender? I'm gonna smell like lavender?"

 



This'll never work. Let's get it over with right now. Giving him as sexy a look as she could manage, she sat on the chair, grasped him again and pulled him to herself. Bending over a little, she heard him groan when she took him into her mouth. Her efforts were almost immediately rewarded, but she couldn’t stay focused. Her mind began to wander while she worked. Yes, son, your conception was a beautiful thing. I took your daddy into a room the size of a phone booth and blew him, he shot into a little cup and the doctor had all of the boys washed to get rid of the poor performers. Then she put a few million of your brothers and sisters into a long syringe and injected it all the way up into Mommy’s uterus. That’s past the vagina, son, through the cervix … up, up, up there. Then Mommy got to lie on a table with her hips elevated for an hour, just so your sweet little sperm self got to meet one of Mommy's eggs. It was so moving, son. True poetry.Not a dry eye in the place.

 



„G

 



An hour later, the doctor came in and gave them the okay to leave. David had been reading some articles he’d brought, and Blair had been lying on her back, making calls to clients. She felt as emotionally invested in the whole procedure as she did when she had her teeth cleaned. When they got home, David was late for work, so he didn't bother going into the house. Blair kissed him on the cheek and said, "We'll forget all about this when we have our baby, honey. I guarantee it."

 



His mouth twitched, turning into a reasonably warm smile. "Thanks," he said. "I know this isn't how you want it."

 



"I want to have a baby with you, David. That's what I want. The details aren't important."

 



"You're being a damn good sport," he said. "You know, I've always had a little nurse fantasy. If we have to do this again, will you wear a uniform?"

 



"With a garter belt and a push-up bra if that trips your trigger."

 



His smile grew brighter, and he reached out of the window and gave her a one-armed hug. "Thanks. See you tonight."

 



„G

 



As soon as Blair entered the house, she put in a call to her mother. “Mom?” she asked, when the phone at the office of the North Side Repertory Theatre was answered.

 



“Blair, I thought you might call today. Did you see the doctor yet, honey?”

 



“Yeah, we just finished. This is so strange, Mom,” she sighed. “Statistically, I have the best chance of getting pregnant that I’ve ever had. Within forty-eight hours, I might be carrying a child, but it feels so sterile and mechanical. This isn’t what I’ve dreamed of.”

 



“Oh, sweetheart, try not to feel that way. I guarantee that once you get pregnant, all of these details will fade right out of your mind. Don’t let the circumstances ruin this for you.”

 



“That's what I just told David," she said. “But I'm not sure I believe it. I just wish we could go back to making love.”

 



"Honey, there's no reason you can't. You can go back to normal. You can only be inseminated once a month, right? The worst that can happen is that you get pregnant by mistake."

 



Pausing a moment, Blair decided to be completely frank with her mother. “We don't normally talk about things like this, Mom, but would it upset you to hear some pretty personal details?"

 



"Well … no, honey, not if you need to talk about something."

 



"I do," Blair said. "I wish I didn't, but I do. The thing is … David doesn’t have much interest in making love any more. If we’re not doing it on a scheduled day, he doesn’t seem to care.”

 



“Is this a big change, honey?"

 



"Yeah. Very big. We're … we're as into each other as we were when we met, Mom. This really has me worried."

 



"Oh, honey, try not to worry so much. This is hard for you both. Don’t let the stress make you see things that aren’t there. David's a fine husband, and I know he’ll be a fine father, too. Once you get past this rough patch, I guarantee things will get back to normal.”

 



“I hope you’re right, Mom, 'cause I want a husband more than I want a baby.”

 



„G

 



She didn't have a meeting scheduled until 11:00, so Blair sat down to read the paper and listen to Brahms’ “Symphony Number 4,” hoping that it would calm her and improve her mood. The first movement had barely finished when the phone rang. "Hello?"

 



"Blair? It's Sadie."

 



Fuck me! I could kill David for telling his mother about this! She took a breath to hide the rancor that was starting to bubble up inside. "Hi, Sadie. How are things?"

 



"You're the one who has things to tell! So, tell!"

 



"Well, it wasn't fun, but it's over. Nothing out of the ordinary. Do you want me to have David call you?"

 



"No, you know how men are. He never tells me anything."

 



He tells you more than he should! "There really isn't much to say, Sadie. I'm sure you've been surfing the Web. It was just like the sites say."

 



"Did David have any trouble? I don't think Bruce could have performed in a doctor's office, God rest his soul."

 



Jesus! Why couldn't I have a mother-in-law who’d blush at the mere idea of her son kissing a girl? "No, David's very … versatile," she said, not quite knowing what adjective to use. "Everything went just fine."

 



"Are you lying down? The sites I read say you should lie down to make sure the sperm get to your uterus."

 



"Yes, I'm lying down," Blair said as she scooted around and dropped onto the couch. "I want to make sure this works, Sadie."

 



"This is very, very important, Blair. This is our last chance to continue the Hagopian line ¾ even if we can't continue the name."

 



Don't snap at her … you'll be paying for it for years. "But your sister Alice has a son. Michael's not even married yet. He can carry on the line, too."

 



The older woman's voice lowered into a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't tell anyone you know, but Michael's adopted. He's not Armenian."

 



"David never mentioned that," Blair said, ignoring the hurtful part of the message.

 



"Oh, he doesn't know. Alice and Lou didn't want anyone to know. Michael doesn't even know. They thought it'd be better for him if he thought he was really theirs."

 



Blair nearly bit through her lip to avoid lashing out at her mother-in-law's insensitivity. Even greater than her anger was an overwhelming sense of empathy for her husband. Oh, baby, I'm starting to understand why adopting is gonna be hard for you. I hope to God it doesn't come to that.

 



„G

 



In early February, Kylie called Blair just after the blonde had learned that the artificial insemination hadn't worked. “David’s out of town this weekend, right?”

 



“Yeah, he is, but you still can’t come over and operate on me.”

 



“You're such a stick-in-the-mud,” Kylie said. “One day you’re gonna beg me to fillet you like a salmon, but it’s gonna be too late. I’m not gonna leave this offer open forever.”

 



“Did you want something other than to harass me? I’m busy not being pregnant right now.”

 



There was a fairly long silence, then Blair said, "Sorry. I don't mean to sound like a jerk. It just comes naturally."

 



"Hey, you're disappointed. I'd be pissed, too."

 



"Well, that still doesn't give me the right to snap at you. I don't know you well enough to let you see my evil side."

 



"No, and I don't think I want to," the doctor said, "so before Evil Blair comes out again, I'll get to the point. I want to buy a house, and I thought this weekend would be the perfect time to start looking.” She paused and asked, “You can still be my friend if we work together, can’t you?”

 



“If that’s what we are, I can,” she said, her joke sounding harsher than she'd intended. Trying hard to inject a happy timbre to her tone, she said, "We're good friends, Kylie, and I'd love to work with you. What do you have in mind? Another condo?”

 



“We just got the numbers from our accountants,” Kylie said, her excitement obvious. “We had a wonderful year, and I'm gonna buy a big-ass house! And since I am, by your description, a conspicuous consumer, I refuse to look at anything south of Montana.”

 



“Kylie,” she said, “I know you’re trying to cheer me up, but you don’t have to focus on the most expensive neighborhood in Santa Monica.”

 



“I love ya, Blair, but I’m not buying a house north of Montana to snag the Mother Teresa award. This is for me, baby! Me! Me! Me! You’re just along for the ride.”

 



“And the commission,” Blair reminded her.

 



“And the commission,” Kylie agreed.

 



„G

 



On Sunday they spent over eight hours looking at every property that fit Kylie's geographic demands. But the pair decided that none of the listings were quite right for the doctor's needs. "I'm hungry and bored," Kylie said. "Let's have an early dinner."

 



"Okay. Wanna go out or eat in?"

 



"In. I wanna take off my shoes and relax."

 



"Done. "

 



They stopped at the market, and as soon as they got to Blair's place, Kylie said, "I volunteer to be in charge of everything that involves slicing, dicing or filleting.”

 



“You don’t have a scalpel on you, do you?”

 



Smiling, Kylie shrugged her shoulders and said, “As a matter of fact, I do. I’ve got a few in the bag in my car. But a chef’s knife works better on most vegetables.”

 



“Do you cook for yourself?” Blair asked while she organized the ingredients.

 



“Yep. I’m actually pretty good at it, too. I like to pamper myself with a great meal."

 



“I cook, but I wouldn’t say I enjoy it,” Blair said. “It’s more of a necessity than anything.”

 



“Then you just sit on that chair,” Kylie ordered. “Put your feet up and relax while I cook for you. Where’s your stereo?”

 



“You don’t have to do this,” Blair insisted, but Kylie guided her right back to the chair and held her in place until she sat.

 



“Doctor’s orders. Want a glass of wine?”

 



“I shouldn’t,” she grumbled. “I quit drinking over a year ago when we started trying to get pregnant.”

 



“A glass or two won’t hurt you,” Kylie said, “especially since you can’t be inseminated for a couple of weeks.”

 



“All right,” Blair agreed. “Set me up.”

 



“First, I need that music,” Kylie said. Blair pointed to the living room, and a few moments later heard the doctor comment, “Got enough CD’s of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra? This must be their whole catalog!”

 



“It is,” Blair called back. “Part of the perks.”

 



“Of?” Kylie asked, popping her head around Blair’s shoulder, startling her.

 



“Of having your father be a member of the CSO,” she said. “He sends me a CD every time they put one out — which seems to be weekly.”

 



“You didn’t tell me your father was in the Chicago Symphony!” Kylie’s eyes were nearly bulging from her head.

 



“I’m sure I told you he was a cellist,” Blair insisted.

 



“I thought you meant he played the cello like I play the piano! You know, like in his spare time."

 



"Nope. He's a pro. He started playing when he was just a tyke."

 



"Damn! I’ve never known anyone connected to a major symphony orchestra. That’s so cool!”

 



“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this excited about anything,” Blair said.

 



“It’s just so cool,” Kylie repeated. “You and I were probably both at a bunch of their performances when I was in college. I wish I’d known you then.”

 



“That would have been nice,” Blair said. “I never had anyone in my life who understood what music meant to me. I would’ve loved a friend I could’ve shared that with.”

 



Leaning over her slightly, Kylie gave her a warm hug, holding on for a few moments. “You have one now,” she said.

 



As Kylie pulled away, she squeezed Blair's shoulder, and the blonde realized that she'd quickly become comfortable with Kylie's affectionate nature. "You know, for a Chicagoan, you're pretty tactile. Have the Californians influenced you?"

 



"No, no, I love to touch." A slightly troubled expression crossed her face. "Doesn't bother you, does it?"

 



"Bother me? I've gotten used to hugging nearly everyone I meet. The guy who cuts my hair hugged me and kissed me the first time we met. I'm getting comfortable with being more affectionate. One more good thing about California," she said. "Lowers your physical barriers." Blair took a sip of her wine, savoring the bouquet. "Damn, I miss a good glass of wine. One of life's small pleasures." She brought the glass to her nose and inhaled deeply. "Nice, very nice."

 



"You sound like you're going to seduce that poor glass," Kylie said. "You've got that 'Do you come here often?' voice."

 



Blair nearly did a spit take with her wine, and her shoulders shook with laughter. "Oh, that's good," she said. "I haven't laughed in two days."

 



Concentrating on preparing the vegetables they'd bought, Kylie said, "Let's have a purely fun night ¾ nothing depressing or upsetting."

 



"Deal, Doc." Blair felt some of the tension start to leave her body while she watched the surgeon operate on a red pepper. Kylie's hands were sure and competent, moving with an effortless grace that was mesmerizing to watch. Blair was so enthralled that she barely heard her friend when she spoke. "Huh?"

 



"Dozing on me?"

 



"No, no, I was just watching your hands. You cook like a surgeon."

 



"Mmm … you ought to see me hem a pair of slacks. I could make a living as a tailor if my nerves ever go."

 



"I know you said something before, but I missed it."

 



"Oh. I was just wondering if you play an instrument. I'd think your father would have bought you a tiny cello when you were in diapers."

 



Blair shook her head, took another small sip of her wine and set the glass down on the marble counter. "No." She stretched, getting the kinks out of her back. "He wasn't that kind of dad. Neither of my parents pushed me to do anything that didn't capture my interest."

 



"You weren't interested?"

 



"I love music, Kylie, but I saw how professional musicians live. My dad’s been playing for over sixty years, but he still practices every day. He plays in a chamber music group, too, so he's working or practicing all the time. I decided that I wanted to appreciate music — not live for it."

 



"Huh." The doctor was quiet for a few minutes, her knife nearly a blur as she diced an onion. "I can see that. I always wonder what makes people choose their professions."

 



"That's easy for me," Blair said. "I thought I'd be a good salesperson, but I didn't want to sit in an office all day. Selling real estate is perfect for me. I'm my own boss, and I can make a lot of money if I'm willing to work hard."

 



"Seeing you in action today showed me that you're good at what you do," Kylie said. "You seem to enjoy it, too."

 



"I do. Oh, clients can be a pain in the ass, and every once in a while I want to commit homicide when a seller acts like he owns Versailles, but I really do like it."

 



"You know, people always complain about getting older, but it's so nice to feel confident and settled in your career. I really like the way my life is going — except for the celibacy thing," she added.

 



"Celibacy and I wouldn't get along," Blair said, laughing. "I love being married. I'm independent, but it's so nice to have a person to come home to at night, especially when he's ready and willing to have sex at the drop of a hat. Any hat. Any hat anywhere in the world. When a hat drops in China — "

 



“Got the picture!” Kylie said, laughing.

 



Blair shifted in her chair and set her glass down on the counter. She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair, a gesture Kylie had seen her make when something was troubling her. Quietly, Blair said, "That was the old David. Now he's much more interested in my basal body temperature than he is in the rest of the neighborhood."

 



"I understand," Kylie said. "But things will go back to normal."

 



Letting a thin smile show, Blair said, "I know I shouldn't complain. He's a great guy, and just the kind of guy that I need. It took me a while to find him, and I'm gonna keep him. Being married is good for me, even when things aren't going well. I hated dating. Ya know?"

 



"I do," Kylie said. "I'm sure I could have hooked up by now if I went on every blind date my friends try to arrange — but I hate spending the evening with a dud. I'd rather cook myself a nice dinner, put on something classical and read a book."

 



“You can wear something classical?”

 



“Oh, har dee har har,” Kylie moaned.

 



"How long has it been since you've had sex?" Blair asked. "'Cause you might have forgotten how much better it can be than a book."

 



Kylie looked at her and let her mouth slide into a slow smile. "Oh, I remember. Besides, I didn't say what kind of books I read."

 



"Ooo … bodice rippers?"

 



"No; no bodices in the things I read. I don't think I'd pick up a book that had Favio on the cover, anyway. I like tanned blondes, but I like them with breasts and a nice curve to their waists."

 



"Oh, right." Blair looked at her and said, "You know, sometimes I forget that you're a lesbian."

 



"Don't you dare forget that," Kylie said. "I want you to keep me in mind every time you meet a single woman. You don't mind asking every woman you meet if she'd like to hook up with a surgeon, do you?"

 



"Does she need to be a lesbian?"

 



"Mmm … no, but she'd better be at least bi-curious. I don't want to have to start from scratch."

 



"Got it," Blair said. "I'll keep my ear to the ground."

 



Kylie started to roughly chop some Roma tomatoes, and Blair noticed that she didn't seem to have the capacity to work and talk at the same time. She waited until the doctor finished and said, "You seem to enjoy doing this. I don't mean the cooking … I mean … doing something nice for me. I think you have a big heart, Kylie … Mackenzie. I was gonna use your middle name, but I don't know it."

 



The taller woman gave her an adorably shy smile, looking like she was going to say “Aw, shucks.” "I do like to do things for my friends. I'm not very self-absorbed, to be honest. I get a lot out of giving rather than taking. And, for the record, I don't have a middle name. My parents thought fourteen letters were enough for anyone." She cocked her head. "I don't know your full name. As a matter of fact, I've always been a bit surprised that you took David's last name. You seem like the type of woman who would want to keep her own."

 



"I would have," Blair said. "I was already starting to build a reputation when we married, but I think I would have changed my name no matter what David's was."

 



"Really? How bad was yours?"

 



"Bad. Very bad. Brace yourself … Schneidhorst."

 



Kylie snorted. "Schneidhorst? Really?"

 



"Yes. Blair Schneidhorst. Stop laughing, please. It wouldn't have been so bad if my parents had named me Helga or Elke. Then I'd just sound like a German national. But giving me a WASP name like Blair just ruined the flow."

 



Kylie was obviously at a loss for words. "God. Schneidhorst." Looking mildly frightened, she asked, "Do you have a middle name?"

 



"Yeah. It's nice, though. Anne."

 



"Blair Anne Schneidhorst. My parents would say you were over the reasonable letter allotment."

 



"No argument. I love David, but I might have married him just for the name."

 



"No one would have blamed you, Blair. No one at all."

 



„G

 



After her third failed artificial insemination, Blair lay in bed, curled up in David’s arms. She’d been crying for a long while and had felt his tears on her cheek, merging with hers. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she sobbed. “I'm so sorry.”

 



“Blair, it isn’t your fault,” he said. “You’re not the one with the defective sperm.”

 



“Your sperm isn’t defective,” she said, pulling away to focus. She wiped at her tears and said, “Please, David, can’t we drop the whole thing and go back to how it used to be? Every time makes me feel like a failure.”

 



“I’m the failure,” he said softly. “I didn’t tell you this, but I went back in and had them do another sperm count. It’s even lower than it was before. The doctor says it’s probably from stress, but I don’t know how to calm down!”


Date: 2015-01-29; view: 855


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