“I didn’t mean to either,” Marissa said. “I think we’re both under a bit of strain.”
“That’s an understatement,” Tristan said. “I don’t even know if Chauncey will recognize me. It’s been over three years.”
“But he’s six,” Marissa said. “I think he’ll recognize you. I wonder what he will think of me.”
“He’s going to love you,” Tristan said. “Mark my words.”
“If we ever get there,” Marissa said.
“Have faith,” Tristan said. He looked back at his map. “If we could only find this Connolly Avenue.”
“We just passed that,” Marissa said. “I’m pretty sure that was the last street we went by.”
“Then we’ll just have to chuck a u-ey,” Tristan said as he pulled the steering wheel all the way to the left. “It’s always a bit confusing since you folks drive on the wrong side of the road.”
Going back a block, they found Connolly Avenue. Connolly Avenue fed into Green Street. Within fifteen minutes they were parked in front of a white clapboard house with Victorian trim. On the front lawn was a sign that said: OLAFSONS.
“Well, here we are,” Tristan said. He gazed up at the house.
“Yup,” Marissa agreed. “We made it.”
Neither moved to get out of the car.
Marissa was particularly nervous. The Olafsons, Tristan’s in-laws, had been caring for Tristan’s son, Chauncey, for the past three years. Marissa had never met them and had never seen Chauncey. While Marissa and Tristan had been hiding out under the auspices of the FBI, it had been deemed unwise for them to meet until now, Thanksgiving day.
The months since their return from the Orient had passed slowly. The government had placed them in Montana, where they shared a house in a small town. Neither of them were permitted to work as physicians.
At first it had been very difficult for Marissa. It took her a long time to adjust to Robert’s death. She felt responsible for it for a long time. That he had died when they were still on such bad terms only added to her pain.
Tristan helped a lot. To a degree, he’d been through the same thing. It gave him a special empathy. He’d known when to talk with her and when to leave her alone.
On top of Robert’s death, she had to contend with Wendy’s. It had taken months before the nightmares of the sharks had stopped their nightly visit. She felt responsible for her friend’s death as well.
Ultimately, time had been the great healer, as it was said to be. Gradually Marissa had begun to feel more like herself. She even started back to her usual exercise routine of jogging several miles a day. Losing the weight she’d gained through the fertility treatments proved a boost to her morale.
“I guess we’d better go inside,” Tristan said. But no sooner had he voiced the words than the front door to the house opened, and out stepped a couple with a child.
Tristan got out of the car. Marissa did the same. They slammed their doors shut. For a moment, no one said anything or moved.
Marissa looked at the child. She could see signs of Tristan in his hair and the shape of his little face. Next she looked to the couple. They were younger than Marissa had anticipated. The man was tall and slight, his features sharp. The woman was short. Her bobbed hair had a sprinkling of gray. She was clutching a tissue. Marissa realized that she was crying.
The introductions were awkward, especially with Elaine Olaf-son struggling through tears. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “But seeing Tristan brings back the pain of losing Eva. And we have gotten so attached to Chauncey.”
For the moment, Chauncey was holding on to Elaine’s leg. His eyes darted from Marissa to his father.
Marissa couldn’t help but sympathize with Elaine. The woman had lost her only child and was now about to lose the grandson she had been caring for for three years.
As they entered the house, Marissa smelled the wonderful aroma of a roasting turkey. She had always loved Thanksgiving. Her memories of Thanksgiving dinners in Virginia were warm and wonderful. It had always been a comfortable, secure time.
Tristan and Eric soon retired to the den to watch football, cans of beer in hand. Marissa and Elaine went into the kitchen. After some initial shyness, Chauncey attempted to straddle both rooms, moving back and forth from the kitchen to the den every few minutes. Tristan had decided not to force anything. He wanted Chauncey to have the chance to get used to him.
“Put me to work,” Marissa told Elaine. She knew for a dinner like this there would be much to do.
Elaine told Marissa to relax, but Marissa insisted. Soon she found herself rinsing the salad greens. They chatted about the journey that morning from Butte, Montana, to San Francisco. But as Elaine calmed, they moved to more personal issues.
“Tristan told Eric on the phone that you and he are planning to be married?” Elaine said.
“That’s the current plan,” Marissa said. It was hard for her to believe it herself. Only months previously she never would have imagined that she’d be capable of such a major step. But the transition from friendship to romance had started slowly. It had grown steadily through their months in hiding. Then, to Marissa’s surprise, their budding romance had flowered with sudden and intense passion.
“And you are going to adopt Chauncey?” Elaine asked. She opened the oven and basted the turkey.
“Yes,” Marissa said. She watched Elaine, waiting for the woman to look at her. “I know this is very difficult for you,” Marissa said. “I can imagine how much you will miss the boy. But there is something you should know. Tristan and I plan to move here to Berkeley so that Chauncey won’t have to change schools. But also so that he will be nearby. You and Eric will see him as often as you like. We know the change will be as difficult for Chauncey as it will be for you. We want to do the most we can to make it easier.”
“That’s wonderful,” Elaine said. She smiled for the first time since they’d arrived. “I had no idea. I thought you would be moving back to Australia.”
“No,” Marissa said. “For now it will be better for us both here. We have a lot we’d like to put behind us. We want a fresh start.”
Elaine’s mood was much improved with the unexpected news about the intended move to Berkeley. “Eric and I saw you and Tristan on Good Morning America and on 60 Minutes. When we heard what those clinics were doing, we were appalled. What some people will do for money!”
Marissa nodded.
“I had to laugh at what Charlie Gibson said,” Elaine continued. “That comparison he made between the closing of the chain of Women’s Clinics and the jailing of Al Capone.”
“It does seem a bit ironic,” Marissa agreed.
“Absolutely,” Elaine agreed. “I know that tax evasion was the only crime they were ever able to convict Capone of. But after everything those rotten doctors did, it’s hard to believe the only charges they got to stick were violations related to the hiring of illegal aliens.”
“At least the clinics are closed,” Marissa said. “The problem has been that it is impossible to prove that the BCG these thousands of women have been given came from the clinics in question. But they’re still not in the clear. The investigations have uncovered the fact that they had been routinely scheduling cervical biopsies for normal Pap smears. And they have been finding this in both the United States and Europe.”
“Aren’t any of the men involved going to jail?” Elaine questioned.
“I’m hopeful that some of them eventually will,” Marissa said. “The most encouraging development has been that a number of directors of branch clinics have started plea-bargaining and offering to turn state’s evidence in exchange. With their testimony, we may see some convictions.”
Elaine leaned closer to Marissa. “I hope they nail the bastards,” she said. After a time, she asked Marissa what her plans were with respect to in-vitro. “Are you and Tristan going to try it?”
“Oh, no!” Marissa said with emphasis. “I’ve gone through enough cycles for my taste. I can’t
say it was a very positive experience. But we will have children,” she added.
“Oh?” Elaine said, somewhat puzzled. She had understood that Marissa couldn’t conceive.
“First, there’s Chauncey. I know I’ll love him as much as if he were my own. And Tristan and I plan to adopt.”
“Really?” Elaine said.
Marissa nodded. “We’re going to adopt a little Chinese baby from Hong Kong.”
Bibliography
1. Baruch, E. L., et al., eds., Embryos, Ethics and Women’s Rights: Exploring the New Reproductive Technologies. Harrington Park Press, 1988. This book is definitely from the feminist point of view. I recommend it since it influenced my thinking about certain issues.
2. Chase, M. E., Waiting for Baby. McGraw-Hill, 1990. A wonderful, moving account of what it’s really like to be caught in the infertility maze. A good book for the emotional aspects of infertility.
3. Frank, D., and Vogel, M., The Baby Makers. Carroll & Graf, 1988. A good, easy-to-read exploration of the social aspects of the new reproductive technologies.
4. Klein, R., ed., Infertility. Pandora Press, 1989. A more fiery feminist viewpoint. If you were interested in #1 above, then read this.
5. Lieberman-Smith, J., In Pursuit of Pregnancy. Newmarket Press, 1987. Another particularly good book about the emotional issues involving infertility and its treatment.
6. Menning, B. E., Infertility: A Guide for the Childless Couple. Prentice-Hall, 1988. A good general guide for the lay individual about infertility from someone who’s been there!
7. Seibel, M., Infertility: A Comprehensive Text. Appleton & Lange, 1990. This is by far the best all-around textbook in the field of infertility. It is meant for the professional, but it can be readily understood by the interested lay person for the most part. The biggest problem is the expense.
8. Sher, G., et al., From Infertility to In Vitro Fertilization. McGraw-Hill, 1988. A good general guide for the lay person to infertility and in-vitro fertilization. However, it should be remembered that the main author is an MD and is associated with an infertility clinic. Therefore he has some inherent bias.
9. Spallone, P., Beyond Conception: The New Politics of Reproduction. Bergin & Garvey, 1989. Another book from the feminist point of view. Somewhat harder to read, but well researched on an international scope.
10. Wasserman, M. E., Searching for the Stork. New American Library, 1988. A wonderfully written book that also deals with the emotional side of infertility. I have to confess that I read it twice.
Robin Cook, Vital Signs
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