know. And some of what’s happening today is just so crazy,” he said. “I hear there are clinics that actually promise money-back guarantees if you don’t conceive. Can you believe that? And some of the egg-donor stuff is absurd. There’s one clinic down near Washington that offers ‘doctoral donors.’ You don’t just get a baby. You get one with a shot at becoming an astrophysicist.”
This can’t be why he asked to meet with her, she thought—to discuss issues in the fertility business.
“Do you wish the clinic hadn’t decided to become more aggressive about promoting itself?” she asked.
“I certainly see the need for some marketing. It’s a business, after all, and things are getting much more competitive out there. I’m just not sure where you draw the line.”
The waitress interrupted then, wanting to take Lake’s order. Lake asked for a cappuccino.
“It must be heartbreaking dealing with the patients,” Lake said.
“It can be, yes. The worst part is that they often blame themselves. They sometimes talk about feeling cursed.”
“I saw one patient in the hall last week and she just broke down, sobbing,” Lake said. “I felt so bad for her.”
“I wasn’t in that day but I heard about it. Apparently Rory convinced the woman to make an appointment with me, but then she canceled it. Unfortunately I can’t force someone to come in to talk to me.”
“She looked fairly young. I assume she’ll keep trying.”
“Maybe,” he said, shrugging a shoulder.
“Why only maybe?”
“She’s already been through eight IVFs—that’s part of the reason why she’s so wrung out.”
“Eight? Wow, that’s a lot. It must be tough on her body.”
“You sound like Mark Keaton.”
The comment took her completely aback.
“What do you mean?” she said, trying to keep the defensiveness out of her voice.
“He didn’t seem to like how many rounds she’d been through, considering her situation. When I was looking through her chart, I noticed some comments from him that suggested that.”
“Do you think it was too much?”
He twisted his head and rested his cheek on his fist, turning the question over in his mind.
“I’m the guy who figures out what’s going on in their heads, not their bodies,” he said. “What I do know is that the clinic does good work. They help a lot of women get pregnant—and that’s why patients come to us.”
“I know you also have a private practice,” she said. “Why do this kind of counseling on top of that?”
“My sister-in-law had fertility problems, and she just unraveled. My poor brother was clueless about how to deal with her. I could see how counseling would have helped them.”
“What ended up happening?”
“After lots of treatment, they gave up. They’re still together fifteen years later, but their childlessness is the proverbial eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room. It didn’t help that I’d had no trouble myself.”
“You have children?”
“A daughter, nineteen. She’s a sophomore at Bucknell.”
Lake felt her face betray her surprise. She’d pegged Harry for early forties, but he had to be older than that to have a child in college.
He grinned, reading her. “I was only twenty-two when she was born—in my first year of grad school. Not the best way to start a marriage, needless to say, and in the end we didn’t make it. But Allison is great, and I’ve got no regrets.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said. Where is this going? she wondered again.
“I should ask you the same question you posed to me. Any particular reason you decided to work for a fertility clinic?”
For a split section she felt the urge to explain the weird connection she felt between the patients and herself—because they’d all been betrayed by their bodies. He was such a good listener, and how soothing it would be to unburden the thoughts she never really shared with anyone. But she didn’t dare show anything of herself to him.
“When Steve mentioned the project it just sounded interesting. I’ve had friends who’ve struggled with fertility, but I was lucky.”
“Your kids are young, right?”
“Nine and eleven. They’re at sleepaway camp right now, up in the Catskills—near where I was when you called and asked if we could get together.”
She hoped her mention of the call would serve as a nudge. Harry stirred in his seat and she saw he’d taken the hint.
“Well, I appreciate your meeting me on such short notice, especially with all the work you have on your plate.”
“What was it you wanted to see me about?”
“To be honest, I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
“How I’m doing?” she asked. She felt herself bristle.