Mary was becoming more confused by the minute. She hadn’t thought there would be any options when they embarked on this journey, much less the staggering number with which she was now being presented. Their many past disappointments had turned into a litany of decisions that seemed more like science fiction than reality. Eye color, hair color, and approximate height—were they shopping for a child in a catalogue or were they trying to conceive? This doctor seemed more concerned with the child’s appearance, almost taking it for granted that conception was a foregone conclusion. She looked to her husband, Joe, for guidance.
“We’ve waited this long,” Joe said with a smile. “No need to rush. I say we go home and practice a little more.” He winked, his smile becoming mischievously lurid. Mary just playfully backhanded his shoulder, sharing in his off-color humor, as she always did.
“If that worked, we wouldn’t be seeing Dr. Gabriel now!”
“Sure, bring another man into this. I thought we left that behind in Philly,” Joe quipped.
Mary’s smile faded somewhat, as though an old wound had suddenly been scraped open. Even though Joe felt he could joke about the personal advances made by their closest friends toward them in the past, Mary was still quite sensitive about how she had allowed anyone to get that close to her and breach her trust with so little regard for her feelings. But ultimately, neither of them would dwell on the nonissues of the past.
Dr. Gabriel interceded. “With the fine genetic base we have here, I’m surprised there are any questions at all. Blond hair, blue eyes, a fine, healthy stock suitable for pro football, with the artistic ability for the Philharmonic—I’d be surprised if we would have to do any modifications. A lot of people would see this as perfection!” The doctor took a moment to reflect on what he had just said. “Of course, we all know perfection is subjective at best.”
“Maybe we could plug in a pair of good knees? There’s always room for improvement,” Joe said, flexing his left leg. “A shoulder-tweaking couldn’t hurt, either.”
“You’ve always seemed strong enough to be up to the task at hand,” Mary answered in a supportive tone that was meant to bolster Joe’s confidence. She knew Joe always tried to shoulder the blame for the couple’s fertility deficiencies, even though, technically, there was little either of them could have done to change the outcomes that had caused them so much anguish in the past.
“Almost always,” Joe said, putting his arm around her. His big, hulking arm was proportionate to the rest of his body. A body one could tell had been tuned to the rigors of a college football and possibly even a professional career. Though now the posture was of a submissive nature that matched his statement—submissive even next to the slight frame upon which his arm was draped.
“Even Mother Nature has limitations, darling,” Mary whispered in his ear. She took an almost dominant posture hoping to soothe Joe’s incorrect perceptions of his own shortcomings.
“Mother Nature’s a bitch. We’re here to improve on the limitations she exhibits every day in our society,” said the doctor almost defiantly. He usually withheld the opinions he had long held regarding natural genetics, but perhaps he had dropped his guard since he was in the company of an old friend.
The couple was startled by his comment. This was unlike any appointment they had previously had with other doctors. Mary, with her usual grace, responded, “Tsk, tsk, Doctor, call a woman a bitch, and she’ll prove you right!”
Doctor Gabriel lowered his glasses from the bridge of his nose. “I do believe I just got a little ahead of myself. Our main function at this clinic is to help resolve fertility issues, and I can’t think of a couple more deserving of parenthood than the two of you. We’ve known each other how long, now, Joe? Twenty-five to thirty years?”
