Christmas day, at the fancy lobster place we’ve gone to celebrate birthdays and graduations and holidays many years now, I give them the news. They’re unhappy about the order that I decided to do things in (donation first, freezing second). But they say they respect my autonomy and will support what I want to do, as long as I’m sure it’s what I want. I believe them; I’ve been moved out for a decade now, and things between us have settled into something good.
The conversation moves on. We take pictures when the lobster towers arrive, and dig in.
A few hours later, after we get home, he knocks quietly on my door and enters almost shyly when I make a noise of acknowledgement – his head is bowed, shoulders tense. I need to ask you something, he says. Are you sure you only like girls?
I say yeah, I’m pretty sure. I even tried to date a few guys again over the summer. It didn’t really work.
Not at all, he asks.
Yeah.
He hesitates.
So the egg donation thing, is it really because you can’t see any way to have your own kids?
No, that it’s important to me to help others, I say, but I can tell that he doesn’t quite believe me. It’s strange to them, that I value helping others so much. They didn’t raise me to do that. They’re puzzled by it, but mostly pleased.
Alright, he says. You’re my daughter, and I still think you’re treating this a little too casually. I care for you and your well-being a lot. I know I didn’t do as much research as you and I’m sure the internet has lots of studies that say that the procedure has a 99% success rate and everything. I just worry that you end up the one percent.
I know, I say. I want to say more, but I don’t have the words, not in his language.
He looks at me for a moment.
It’s important to find 幸福 in life, he says. That’s the most important thing of all, nothing else matters. Whether that means you end up with a boy or a girl, you know baba will support you. Having kids isn’t as important as having 幸福. And if you decide to have kids eventually, remember that it’s hard to give them a childhood with 幸福 if you don’t have that yourself.
There are things that are unspoken. I know how much 幸福 he had in childhood. I know how much of it he had afterwards. Both of our eyes are a little wet, but we pretend we don’t notice.
You’re going back tomorrow? He asks. I have my own life now, in my own city, two hours away from theirs.
That’s the plan, I say. But I can stay a little longer if you want.
No, he says, you should go. You have more freedom in Waterloo, and you’re not relegated to a little room like you are here. I know you don’t like it here, he doesn’t say. It makes my face go hot, and I resolve to visit more. He’s projecting a little; he hates it here more than I do. I can stand to visit more, and keep him company. His hair is more grey than black now.
Okay, I say.
Let’s hug a bit, he says, and we squeeze each other tight. Then he turns and leaves in such a way that I can’t see his face, but my own is starting to crumble so I’m a little relieved.
