Chapter Nine

BELLE AND GEORGIA agreed that Belle would contact the clinic to find out the process. Then, depending on the clinic’s recommendation, they would either make an appointment for the two of them, or Georgia would make an appointment to ensure everything aligned. Afterward, the embryo would be transferred, and they hoped the rest would be simple. The phone call changed things, however.

“I’m wanting to donate my embryos, and just wanted to check the process,” Belle confidently said on the phone. The receptionist asked Belle for her full name. “Annabelle Andrews,” Belle said, and then heard the receptionist type into the computer. There was a long pause, and some ‘thinking’ sounds before the receptionist returned to the call. “Um, I’ll get our senior nurse, Stella, to contact you and discuss it all with you.”

Belle smiled, she remembered Stella—her favourite nurse during the IVF, a charming Irish woman. “Excellent,” Belle said.

It wasn’t until a few hours later that Stella phoned and told Belle that because the embryos were created with donor sperm, Belle couldn’t donate them. It was Australian legislation, apparently, but it seemed like the first time Belle had heard about it.

“But I asked at the time,” Belle said. “I asked because we wondered if Natasha could carry them.” Tash was shocked she’d asked—she’d never intended to carry a child and was surprised that Belle thought it might be an option. But Belle wanted all bases covered, so she’d asked the question, in case Tash wanted to down the track. Now, though, Belle was completely shocked by Stella’s response. She fought the tears away as she talked. To have gotten so far, and then to have the dream shattered was heartbreaking.

Stella interrupted her thoughts. “Oh, your partner? That’s different. She’s your partner, so you’re deemed a family unit. You can absolutely donate to your partner. You just have to sign them over to her for the duration of the transfer and ultimately the pregnancy. You don’t have ‘rights’ until you’re on the birth certificate, so it’s a bit strange in some ways, because they’re biologically yours.”

“What about a friend, or family member?” Belle asked, but Stella said that wasn’t possible. Belle nearly argued back but decided not to bother. Instead, she got off the phone and sat in silence, wondering what she could do. It seemed like such a waste of the embryos to her, to just discard them. Belle got busy cooking dinner and pondering the issue. She didn’t know how to break the news to Georgia, but while eating dinner, she rang Georgia, and told her that she’d tried, but it just wasn’t going to be possible. “I’m so sorry,” Belle said, upon hearing the disappointment in Georgia’s voice.

“It’s okay. I am just grateful that you offered and tried. I’ll be okay.” Belle could tell that Georgia was choking up and felt awful.

A few days later, the girls were going to a birthday party, next door to a big café. Belle rang Georgia and asked to meet up with her from 10:00 a.m. After dropping the girls off, Belle told the mother she’d just be next door and went to the café. “I have an hour and a half,” Belle told Georgia, “and I wanted to catch up to see how you were going.”

“Thank you. It was disappointing, but I’ll be okay. Maybe I’ll find another donor, or maybe not. I’m okay. I have a good life; I just need to come to terms with things. I’ve been working on it.”

Belle sat silently. “It’s so stupid. If we were a couple, I could do it.”

Georgia started justifying the law in relation to family units and sperm donors, but Belle was only half listening. Suddenly she interrupted Georgia. “Would you do it?”

“Do what?” Georgia was confused.

“Would you pretend to be my partner?”

“Pretend to be your…your what?” Georgia asked, clearly realising what Belle meant but wanting to confirm it.

“My partner. My girlfriend. My wife.” Belle grimaced, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. “It’s probably stupid, I know that, but it might work.”

Georgia just looked at Belle. She opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again. Finally, after an awkward silence, she spoke, but all that came out were questions. “What would it mean? How? Like, would we have to tell our family and friends we were a couple or not? I’m not gay, so that would be pretty big.” She looked like this was the craziest suggestion she’d ever heard, and she certainly wasn’t wrong.

“No, we wouldn’t need to tell our family and friends. Just the clinic, during counselling and the embryo transfer and maybe a few appointments if you got pregnant.”

“And would you really want to go to that effort just to help me?”

“It’s helping me too. I hate to think of the embryos being destroyed. I’ve thought about this for so long now, and I’m ready to donate, and they’re stopping me. The beauty of things is that I’m a lesbian. The clinic knows that. I know you’re not, but could you pretend to be?”

“Of course I could. My dad always said I was a good actor.” She laughed.

“We’d probably have to have counselling. Tash and I did. And they asked us questions about our relationship… You’d have to be a great actor.”

Georgia bit her lip. “This is absurd. But I’m happy to do it.”

“It is absurd. And I’d have to check that they’d let me donate to a ‘new’ girlfriend. Not just to Tash. I wonder if that matters.”

“Would you need your ex’s permission?” Georgia asked pensively.

Belle didn’t think so, but it was something she hadn’t considered. “Tash wanted to sign her rights away anyway. Maybe I’ll ask her to do that, rather than tell her about the donation.”

Georgia nodded and paused a moment before speaking. “Do you think donating would worry her? I don’t want you to do anything that Tash would be uncomfortable with.”

It sounded strange hearing Georgia use Natasha’s nickname, given they’d never met, but Belle had really only ever called her Tash, so it made sense that Georgia was just following Belle.

“I don’t actually know. She’s made it clear they’re no longer her embryos,” Belle said with a shrug, “which is weird, because they were 100 per cent ours. They may have come from my eggs, but I held no more claim over them than her. We did it together. And I hate making decisions about them without her input, but she made it very clear that she’d moved on. It seemed to be just another way of moving on with her new girlfriend, I suppose. A line in the sand. I’m just grateful she didn’t go down this path with the girl she cheated on me with.”

“She cheated on you?” Georgia looked at Belle with empathy and then shared a story of being cheated on before she’d dated Michael. Belle shared how she’d felt, to have her heart broken by the only person she’d ever dated, while Georgia said all the right things. Georgia was really easy to talk to, and they had a good rapport. Perhaps pretending to be a couple wouldn’t be so hard. They already had one key ingredient of good lesbian relationships—good communication. The main thing they lacked was that Georgia wasn’t actually attracted to women, but that wasn’t a problem for a fake relationship, Belle figured. Once the conversation of cheating was out of the way, the two women then started discussing their fake relationship.

“How did we meet?” Belle asked Georgia, referring to their story for the clinic and the counsellors in particular.

Georgia shrugged. “Can’t we just say the truth? Through your sister?”

That would be easiest, so Belle agreed, then asked Georgia a few other questions—whether they lived together (yes), how long they’d been together (twelve months), who asked who out (Belle asked Georgia out), and they laughed at who kissed who first (Belle wanted to say Georgia). Suddenly, Georgia sat back in her seat and sighed audibly.

“What’s up?” Belle asked her.

Georgia looked both sad and pensive. “I don’t want to get too invested. It’s all funny right now to say all of this, but anything could change. Tash might not sign them over; the clinic might say no unless it’s the person you started it all with. We’re making a lot of assumptions right now, but I have to keep reminding myself that it may not happen. Hell, you could even decide you don’t want to pretend-date me. Or…you could meet someone which means we can’t pretend-date. This could all take some time, and our pretend relationship could last…months.”

Belle shook her head. “I have sworn off relationships, possibly forever! Certainly, not until the girls are much older. I have way too much on my plate and I want them to have stability. Pretend-dating is as good as it gets for me.” Belle looked away for a moment, collecting her thoughts. “To borrow your word, though, it is totally absurd. It’s probably the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Too absurd? Like, it’s crazy, it’s time-consuming, and what’s in it for you?”

“What’s in it for me? I get to see the embryos have a potential chance.” Belle shrugged, as if it had been a simple decision. “And hopefully you get your dream. It’ll be amazing.” Belle genuinely wanted Georgia to get her wish to become a mother. “As for your other worries, let me get on to the clinic on Monday, and I’ll let you know as soon as I can. I can’t guarantee it will happen, but there has to be a loophole if Tash is signing them across to me.”

Georgia looked pensively at Belle. She then glanced at her watch.

“Good point,” Belle said. “I’ve got to get back to the party and pick up the kids. Want to come?”

“To come?” Georgia’s forehead creased in confusion. “To the party?”

“Well, to pick the kids up,” Belle said, and Georgia recognised what Belle was saying.

“Oh, you want me to meet the girls?”

Belle nodded, and Georgia squinted as she thought. She briefly placed her hand over Belle’s hand in a reassuring pat.

“Thank you, but no, I don’t think I will. Depending on how Monday goes, I would love to meet the girls, but I think I’m better off just heading home.”

Belle understood, though was disappointed to end her time with Georgia. The two bid their farewells, before Belle raced next door to find her two sugar-laden, hyperactive kids. As the children blew whistles and loudly told stories during the car trip home, Belle told herself it was probably for the best that Georgia hadn’t met them in this state.