Page 58 of Summer Reading

“Did you know that there are species of animals that procreate with no male participation?” he asked.

“Is that even possible, outside of a cell splitting?” I asked.

“Oh yeah, reptiles, fish, all sorts of animals have these ‘virgin births,’ ” he said.

“Moira,” I tried to sound forbidding. “You did not have a virgin birth, and I’d like an answer to my question.”

He looked at me or, more accurately, looked past me. “Have I shown you my latest piece? It focuses on the moment of ejaculation from a female perspective.”

I choked on melted butter.

“I... I’ve got nothing,” I said. There was no place to go in this conversation.

“And end scene,” he said.

We ate the last two scallops in silence.

I took a sip of wine. Our waitress arrived with our entrées and whisked our appetizer plate away. I pushed my plate into the center of the table and Ben did, too, so we could share more easily.

The swordfish was amazing, and so was the cod. I was trying to decide which I preferred, but my brain kept chugging back to his mom and his quest to find his father.

“I’m assuming there’s nothing on your birth certificate,” I said.

“Correct,” he said. “I ordered it from the state when I was in college and thought, ‘Aha, I’ve got her.’ But no, she’d left it blank.”

“And your grandparents have no idea who your father is?”

“No, they asked her, too,” he said. “As my grandmother tells it, Moira showed up very pregnant in the winter of nineteen ninety. When they asked who the father was, she refused to say, and since their relationship was already strained, they didn’t want to push it. So that was that. She’s never spoken of him to anyone as far as I know.”

“I don’t want to cast aspersions on your mom,” Isaid. I made a pained face because it truly hurt me to have to say it, but it had to be done. “Have you considered that she doesn’t know who your father is?”

“I would welcome a list of names,” he said. “Even if it’s as long as my arm. At least then I would have a starting place.”

We ate in silence, contemplating the dilemma that confronted him. I had no great ideas, unfortunately.

“So, when you told Em and me that you were looking for someone that day at the library,” I said. “You were talking about your dad.”

He nodded. There was a soul-deep sadness in his eyes that pulled at me.

“All right, I’m in,” I said.

“In what?” He gave me a side-eye.

“I’m in the hunt. Let’s do this. Let’s figure out who your father is,” I said.

“While I love your enthusiasm, I haven’t had much luck,” he said. “I don’t have much to go on, and I don’t want you to waste your time or be disappointed.”

“I’ll only be disappointed if we don’t try,” I said. I reached across the table and put my hand on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You deserve to know.”

He looked up at me. His eyes glistened, just a little, as if he was feeling too much and the emotions were trying to escape through any available route. It endeared him to me. Seeing his pain made me want to ease it the way his presence helped my busy brain calm down.

His voice was gruff when he said, “It’s killing me not to pull you into my arms and kiss you right now.”

Guh.I was rendered mute by the intensity of his stare.

“Oh my,” the waitress said. She had arrived at our table and stood entranced as if she was caught in the sexual tension force field that seemed to be swirling around us. “Shall I bring your check?”

“Yes, please, and a slice of cheesecake to go,” I said.

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