mandate is to help donor children connect with blood relatives for the purposes of satisfying lifelong curiosities, sharing medical information, and to prevent future consanguinity. Children resulting from donor sperm can, upon reaching the age of 18, make use of our site to connect with donor fathers and potential half-siblings who have previously consented to contact. We also liaise with donation clinics to release donor names according to applicable state laws.
To date, 46 individuals resulting from your donations have connected with one another via the registry. We are holding correspondence from some of them in trust for you.
We are proud to have united many donor children with their donors and biological siblings. You will find a number of their stories on our website, and by registering as a donor on our site and releasing your name you can connect with the many amazing individuals you have helped bring into the world. This could be the first step on an incredible journey of discovery for you and your extended genetic network.
Sincerely,
Erin Elmwood
Liaison Officer
Donor Offspring Registry
“Oh Jesus!” Elliot said. The torn envelope fluttered to the floor as the conversation between his parents stopped abruptly. “Christ.”
“Elliot,” said Gretchen, sounding rattled by his tone. “What is it?”
He held out the two pages for his mother to read. She scanned them quickly.
“Good lord,” she said.
Elliot laced up his boots and went outside. Even after the door slammed behind him, he could hear his father and mother talking in loud voices, the baby crying, Julia and Dory coming out of the bedroom—all of them no doubt examining the preposterous letter and questioning his patently absurd life. He went around the side of the house out of earshot, past the low eaves covering a large woodpile and an idling axe that popped with red. He took out his rage on the logs, chopping the dry rounds into splits and kindling for the stove.
In between swings, he saw Dory approaching, donning her winter coat.
“Not in the mood,” he called out. “Not to mention I have an axe.”
“I just want to say it sucks. Especially if you didn’t know.”
“Guess I should have read the fine print.” He couldn’t remember now, what he had or hadn’t read. It was infuriating to think that his own life could be a mystery, even when he’d already lived it. He split a final log, preparing himself for a diatribe about the secret he’d kept from her during their marriage. “I’m an idiot, basically.”
“Yes,” said Dory. The hood of her coat was flipped up and her voice seemed to come from the trees. There was a strange edge to it. “But I’m sure you meant well.”
Elliot shivered. “Actually, I don’t know if I did.” He recalled being angry at his parents in the generic way he always was back then, for their constant well-meaning pressure to follow in their footsteps—though it would be another three years before he finally quit school. And he had been mad at Keisha, too, for being so upset about the breakup that had immediately preceded him signing up to donate. He’d been interested in the money, sure, but he couldn’t swear there hadn’t been some defiance there, in joining the trial. He’d felt guilty afterwards, but then, he’d felt guilty beforehand, too. As long as he could remember, he’d had a keen awareness of just how flawed a person he really was.
He paced over to a spot where he could make a pristine boot mark in the snow. Around the corner, there was a precipitous drop to the frozen lake. All was white and grey as far as he could see.
When he returned, Dory said, “I’m sorry your mom is still giving you a hard time about your job. I know it bugs you.” Her face grew sombre. “But I’m surprised to see you here. Isn’t there more than enough work for you guys right now?”
“Plenty, yeah.” So many police officers had contracted ARAMIS in the line of duty that the union was talking of a strike. And last week the rookie had texted him about seeing a group of officers signing out tear gas canisters and automatic rifles from the armoury, a process that no longer seemed to require the same chain of approval as before. Plus, the mayor was making noise about cracking down on precincts with the most curfew violations—coincidentally the poorest neighbourhoods, with the worst infection rates. “A bad time to take a vacation, I guess. But I wanted to spend some time with my