Page 93 of Am I Allergic to Men?
I nod and walk over. Meg stands up and embraces me hard.
‘Is that what you’re wearing?’ she whispers. I ignore her. ‘Luce, this is Holly and James Avery. Holly, James, this is Lucy. And this is…’
‘Oscar?’ I say. ‘I mean, it’d be weird if you brought another baby with you.’
I went for humour, I don’t think I should have opened with humour. They look like any other couple you’d see. She’s small, slender with mousey hair, and he’s all crewneck jumper and well-fitting jeans. Do we shake hands? Or not. The emotion of the situation is too much for Holly and she comes over and grabs me, her frame wrapped around mine tightly. I hug back.
‘I can’t believe it,’ she says. ‘It’s actually you.’
‘For one night only…’ I reply.
Meg gives me a look like I need to dial back my weird brand of Lucy. We all sit down. I won’t lie, I wish they’d stop staring but I guess they’re trying to work out how much of me is their son. I peer over into their buggy and he’s wide awake, bluey-grey eyes like mine, seeming deep in thought but likely just wondering when he’ll next see milk. I smile. He’s a bloody good-looking baby but I expected as much given he’s half me.
‘I’m sorry I sprung this on you. Before everything happened, I was quite content to just let you get on with your lives, I didn’t want to intrude in any way. I guess…’
‘Oh, we get it…’ James replies. ‘We were shocked when the clinic got in touch and told us what happened and we just wanted to know you were OK.’
‘I’m getting there.’
Holly lifts Oscar up from his buggy and he sits there contentedly in her lap, playing with her necklace. I bend down to say hello and he laughs. That sound is perfection.
‘So just to be sure, it’s my egg and James’ juice?’ I ask. Meg scrunches her face up to hear how I’ve phrased that.
‘Yeah,’ Holly explains. ‘And then it was implanted in me via IVF. You were our third go, other attempts with my eggs and other donors hadn’t worked.’
Well, I can only think my eggs would have held on for dear life, they would have had stubborn grip. James holds Holly’s hand at that point and I notice their rings, there’s the silent understanding that they’ve walked over flames to get this far, and look at them now, it’s a brilliant portrait of family, of a couple deeply simpatico, who’ve lived and bonded through something together. This is love.
‘And the pregnancy, the birth… everything was OK? You’re OK?’
She nods, glad that I’ve asked. ‘He’s a bit of a night owl but he gets on with everyone, he finds everything funny at the moment.’
‘That’ll be Lucy all over then,’ Meg contributes, beaming so hard.
‘And what do you guys do?’ I ask.
‘James is in PR and I’m a teacher. We live in Streatham. You’re a dancer? Actress?’
‘Of sorts.’
I don’t know how to describe what I see in front of me but all of it has such purpose, such meaning, and that feeling just flows through my veins, the best tonic I could ask for.
‘Can we just ask why? Why did you donate your eggs?’ Holly asks.
If they want the truth then it started with an advert in a lift at university. Seven hundred and fifty pounds for my eggs? The first thoughts were that it was a bloody good deal and I figured that I probably had hundreds of the things given I was in my prime. But as I got more deeply into the process, the reason changed.
‘I never want kids. I knew that very early on in my twenties as my sisters started having babies. For one, they made childbirth sound horrific.’ Meg sits there and doesn’t disagree. ‘But motherhood just never sang to me in the way it did my other sisters. I never knew why but I’m very happy with my life and my work. And it never felt like I was missing out either. I was handed all these nieces and nephews and I just felt I had so many little people to love, what they give me is enough. I adore being their aunty. So it made sense that if I wasn’t going to use this resource to its full potential, I should see if it might be useful to someone else.’
They both nod and hold hands again. It’s very lovey-dovey and I’d jest if I knew them better.
‘They give you counselling when it happens so you can run through that thought process with them. It all makes sense to me at least. And seeing you now makes me realise it’s probably one of the best things I ever did in the past decade and I’ve done a lot, I tell you, Oscar…’
Oscar giggles cheekily and I laugh with him.
‘I know I told the agency that we’d have some contact but, just to clarify, now we’ve met in the flesh…?’ Holly asks tentatively.
‘Oh, seriously… as you were. Whenever in the future a moment presents itself then let him know who I am, he’s welcome to meet me if he ever wants, but you three just get on and do your thing. Maybe send me a Christmas card once in a while but, in all honesty, I’ll take this moment and hold it close and you just… live, look after him, he’s brilliant.’
I’m making Meg cry and that to me is everything but look at him. He’s perfect, they’re perfect. There are other babies out there too and I am sure they are all bloody miracles as well. I hope they have love, I hope they love so hard, they feel it in their tips of their fingers, I also hope they give this world hell when they’re older. My genes almost dictate it.
