After giving me a small bag with two bottles, Ramala led me out, and I
discovered I really _had _been in a different building, the one
situated across the long-term parking lot and all but hidden in the
trees. It was new, one-story, and probably larger than it appeared from
the front. Again I wondered what went on in there, since it seemed so
empty.
Check it out and soon, I told myself as I slipped my key into the
ignition. You've got to find out a lot more about this place.
On the drive back to the city, my main thought was that I'd lost a day
of my life. It'd just sort of slipped away. But that wasn't all. I also
began to meditate on the fact that Alex Goddard could have an immense
influence over my body (or was it my mind?) with a simple touch. Give
him his due, he could definitely make things happen. First my cold and
now this. Perhaps he could give me a child, if I got "centered,"
whatever that meant. But why should I trust him?
And there was another problem. For a baby I'd need Steve, the man I
loved, the guy who'd promised to be with me through thick and thin. Did
he really mean it? He'd have to fly in, which meant a serious piece of
change for the airfare. Finally, could he face another chance of
failure? My spirits sank at the prospect of having to ask him. Were we
both just going to be humiliated one more time?
He'd made his home base in Belize, that little Rhode Island of a
country abutting big, bad Guatemala. He liked the fact they used
English, more or less, as the official language and they hadn't gotten
around to murdering two hundred thousand Maya, the way Guatemala had.
In a romantic moment, I'd programmed his Belize hotel number into the
memory of my cell phone--the telephones down there are amazingly good,
maybe the Brit legacy--though I'd never actually tried it. (I'd called
him from home about half a dozen times, but he was rarely there.) Well,
I thought, the time has come. Maybe it was the sensual feelings
released by all the Chi flowing around, but for some reason I found
myself feeling very lonely. He hadn't called recently, though. . . .
It took ten rings, but eventually the hotel answered. A moment later,
they were trying his room. I guess I was half afraid a woman might pick
up, but it was him and there were no hushed tones or cryptic
monosyllables. I heaved a minor sigh of reassurance.
"Baby, I can't believe it's you," he declared. "I've actually been
trying to reach you for a day now."
"You finally get around to missing me?" It was so good to hear his
voice, full of life and energy.
"All the time. Never didn't. You've just got to understand it's crazy
down here. All last week I was in Honduras, haggling over permits.
Don't ask." He paused. "So, when are you coming down? They've got a
national park here that's a pure chunk of rain forest, jaguars
everywhere." He laughed. "But forget that. If you come down, we'll
never get out of the hotel. Just room service all day."
"No immediate plans," I said, immediately wondering how I could swing
it. "But you never know."
I wasn't entirely sure how to approach Steve anymore. There was
something about the abrupt way he took off that left things up in the
air. A tiny sliver of uneasiness was slipping into my head-over-heels
trust, the camel's nose under the tent.
"First the good news," I declared. "David's talking to Orion about a
theatrical release for _Baby Love_."
Steve knew how deeply I longed for a theatrical--it would be my
first--and he enthused appropriately. But he also knew I wouldn't call
him early Sunday morning just to tell him that. There was only one
other thing that would inspire such an unsocialized act.
"Uh, should I be asking how the other baby project is going?" he said.
For a moment I wasn't sure what to say, since I didn't really even know
myself.
"Still a work in progress," I said finally. Then; "Honey, I've just
been to see a doctor who's . . . well, he's a little unconventional.
And nervous-making. But everything else has failed."
Whereupon I gave him a quick, cell-phone summary of what I'd just been
through at Quetzal Manor.
"So are you going to go back eventually?" He sounded uneasy. "For the
full 'program'?"
He had a way of zeroing in on essentials. The truth was, my baby hopes
and my sense of self-preservation were at war with each other. . . .
"Morgy, are you there?"
"I'm here. And I guess the answer is, I'm still trying to decide. Like
I said, he's into Eastern medicine and Native American . . . I'm not
sure what. But if I need you, are you still in the project?"
"What do you mean?"
"Darlin', don't play dumb. You know exactly what I mean. Could you come
back if I needed you? Really needed you?"
There was a long pause, wherein the milliseconds dragged by like hours.
Trees were gliding past, throwing shadows on
my windshield, and I still felt vaguely dizzy. I also had a residual
ache in my abdomen where Alex Goddard had given me those damned
muscle-relaxant shots. Why was I even considering going back?
Finally: "You're not making this easy, you know. Down here, without our
. . . project on the front burner every day, I've been reassessing . .
. well, a lot of things. If we had a baby, it would turn our lives
upside down. I mean, it's not like we just bought a sheepdog and
chipped in on the grooming. This is a human life we're talking about.
Are we really prepared to do justice to a child?"
There it was. I didn't know whether I wanted to burst into tears, or
strangle the man.
"Well, why don't you just think about it," I told him. "This doesn't
sound like a conversation we should be having on a cell phone." Blast
him. "If that's the way you feel now, then I might just have a baby on
my own." How, I wasn't sure. I'd been so certain we were a couple, I'd
not given it any real thought. "Or then again, I might just go ahead
and adopt, with or without you."
"Look, I'm not saying I won't do it. I'm just saying it's not a trivial
thing." He paused. "So where does that leave us?"
Translation: second thoughts.
"I don't know where that leaves us, Steve. In the shit, I guess. But
I'd still like to know if I can count on you, or am I going to have to
go to a sperm bank or something?"
"Jesus. Let me think about this, okay? Do I have to answer you now?"
"No. But I'm not going to wait forever either."
"All right." Then he paused. "Morgy, I miss you. I really do. I just
need some time to think about our next step. Are you sure you're okay?
You sound a little out of it."
"Thanks for asking. I've just got a lot on my mind."
Turmoil, dismay, and hope, all tossed together, that was what I had on
my mind. I really didn't need mixed signals from Steve at the moment.
A few more awkward pleasantries and I clicked off the phone, wiped the
streaks from my cheeks, and abruptly sensed Alex Goddard's face
floating through my psyche. Why was that? Then I looked down at the
bottles on the seat beside me, the "herbal extracts" Ramala had given
me on the way out. What, I wondered, should I do about them? For that
matter, what were they anyway? And what did they have to do with
"centering"? If I started on his homeopathic treatments, what would I
be getting into? Then I lectured myself: Never take something when you
don't know what it is.
Hannah Klein. That's who I should ask.
I was so focused, I pushed the number I had stored for her in my phone
memory before I remembered it was Sunday. Instead of getting her
office, I got an answering service.
"Do you want to leave the doctor a message?" a southern-sounding voice
enquired.