I subtly turned down the heat on the office radiators. The patches of sweat under my armpits were threatening to spread, and Viktor’s watchful gaze was making my movements stiff. Was he trying to see if any bruises had appeared on my face since my meeting with Lada? Hadn’t he cast an appraising glance at my long-sleeved shirt as if guessing what it might conceal? Removing my scarf, I rolled my sleeves up to my elbows.
“The mother-to-be is taking a very active approach to the process,” I assured him. “Our meeting was a big success.”
The pictures of the mangled donor flickered in my mind like a broken fluorescent tube. She’d been paid for her silence, and nothing more had come of it. Nothing ever came of things like that, not for these people. Viktor came over next to me, took hold of my arm, and squeezed it insistently.
“Don’t lie. Not to me, please.”
After swearing that our encounter had been as warm as could be, Viktor let me go, shrugged, and returned to the couch, adopting his familiar position. Back straight, off the cushions, one arm resting on a pillow and the other in his lap. At Lada Kravets’s dacha, I had seen a portrait of Viktor posing the same way with his father. Both of their heads were wreathed with golden laurels, and they were placed in a Roman villa. There were no other traces of the father-to-be in the dacha.
We didn’t continue our conversation about his wife, although Viktor still checked my reactions to what he said. If previously I’d wanted to convince myself he didn’t know about the surprises his wife had arranged, I no longer had any doubt. Looking for something to do with my hands, I remembered the napoleon pastries and began to load them onto plates, wondering whether I dared to go turn the temperature back up after all. I didn’t.
“Both our sets of parents expect grandchildren, and I’m not sure whether they’re more concerned about the future of their legacies or the way people talk,” Viktor said. “You’ve heard what they call me.”
He glanced at me. I shook my head.
“Limp-dick.”
Another glance.
“It’s hard to get respect here if a man isn’t a man. And a man isn’t a man if he’s shooting blanks.”
“Have you considered moving somewhere else, starting fresh in another country?”
“You can’t change the land you love. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
I attempted to respond to Viktor’s look with sincerity, like before, but something between us had changed. I remembered the way Viktor had gained my sympathy by telling me how a slut with a deceitful laugh had haunted his dreams, leaving him unable to go out for fear of running into someone who would congratulate him on becoming a father. Now I kept offering him more snacks so I wouldn’t have to sit next to him. Then I grabbed the sugar bowl I’d left on the side table. Then the spoons and more napkins, until I couldn’t come up with anything else to arrange and I had to go sit on the same couch as Viktor, who had left his pastry half eaten. I held the cup in my hand and cursed the moment when I’d made the decision to sit so close that I felt the heat radiating from him. Why couldn’t I act like I did with other people and stay in my own chair opposite the client? I swirled my spoon in my tea to keep my fingers busy. If Viktor took my hands again, he would notice their clamminess and the chalky color of my fingertips. He would see how I’d try to move farther away and would look for that shudder of disgust that he’d sought before without finding it. If Viktor’s wife was capable of that kind of destruction with a pair of nail scissors, what could her husband do? And what kind of child would these people raise?
“I got the doctor fired who told me my sperm was weak. The news knocked my feet from under me, and I accused him of lying. And for wanting more money, supposedly for additional tests. It’s been a while since then,” Viktor said. “I felt completely useless.” I was still stirring the sugar into my tea, since it didn’t seem to be dissolving, the crystals just swirling around the edges of the porcelain. No one was in the building except for us, since the secretary had gone home. I didn’t want to be alone with Viktor. I didn’t want to be unique in this way. I didn’t want to hear these things, and the intimate moment made my chest constrict. I was already making mental plans in case I had to leave the country suddenly. I would have to renew my fully stamped international passport posthaste. I tried to remember whether I knew anyone at the passport office, anyone reliable. I needed someone who could expedite the process, and I didn’t want to ask any of our own staff for help. On the other hand, it was always easy to get to Russia, and my visa for France was still valid. Viktor was fumbling for words, and the rasping of his voice was like an old record player that occasionally faded to the point that I had to read the words from his lips.
“My father has agreed to act as my donor.”
Instantly I forgot my passport worries and placed my teacup on the table. Were we really this far along?
“Have you already talked to him about it?”
“He suggested it himself.”
Viktor spread his hands. At first, he had opposed the idea. But then he agreed. He didn’t have any other options.
“We’ve tried micro-injection enough times in previous rounds. Or do you disagree?”
I shook my head. I was speechless. Was Viktor really ready for this?
“My parents want to do everything they can to help us. They will be phenomenal grandparents.”
Viktor wasn’t lying.
Lada became pregnant.
But I had chosen a rotten apple from my basket.