Gleb
“I can’t believe that you didn’t leave this idea,” at the other end of the wire I hear my brother’s not at all cheerful smile.
Why should I have left her?
I park in front of an elite private clinic for reproduction and fetal health and turn off the engine.
- Well, maybe because you divorced Karina six months ago?
I clench my jaw and slowly draw in air. The mention of my ex-wife still shakes me.
“This has nothing to do with Karina,” I say slowly. - It's just my business.
- Single father? Seriously, Gleb? - winds up his old hurdy-gurdy again. - Think about it before it's too late.
I clamp the receiver with my shoulder, open the glove compartment and, taking out medical documents from there, I get out of the car.
A gust of icy autumn wind strikes in the face. Damn Peter. A beautiful city, but endless winds, incessant downpours and vitamin D deficiency have finished me.
I won’t say that the weather in Moscow is strikingly different, but the sun still happens there more often.
“I don’t see a problem with this at all,” I overcome the marble steps in a few sweeping steps and, pushing the heavy door, I enter the clinic lobby. - No one has canceled babysitting services yet.
Wasting no time, I immediately turn to the elevators and press the button for the fourth floor. In this building, I navigate like a fish in my native pond.
I came here for the first time a little over a year ago with my already ex-wife to donate biomaterial.
Karina did not want to give birth herself, so as not to spoil the figure, so she suggested the IVF procedure. This option suited me just fine. I wanted a child. And who for me and my wife endures it did not matter to me.
I got divorced six months ago. But he did not leave the goal of getting an heir. True, I had to look for a new “donor” and a separate “container”. It turned out to be pretty fiddly. Because according to the laws of our country, the same woman cannot be a biological mother and bear.
But now, fortunately, the most dreary part of the case is completed. It remains to directly perform the embryo transfer, and in nine months I will be able to pick up my child.
- And what about personal life? I don't understand you, Gleb. You're only thirty-five. For a man, this is not age at all. Why are such drastic measures needed? It’s like you’re a Balzac-aged woman trying to jump into the last car of a departing train,” she exclaims. - Find yourself a new wife. She will give birth to you. Why are we asking you for the services of a surrogate mother?
“Because of the fact that I’m not going to marry again, Stas, and you know this very well,” I get annoyed.
Endless talk about my potential future marriage has worn me down. In the beginning, my mother brainwashed me, and now my brother does the same.
From the latter, listening to such speeches is generally ridiculous. Given that he is a hardened bachelor.
“At least I have an idea of what family life is,” I decide once and for all to put an end to this topic. "And you've never been married in thirty-two years." So don't talk about things you don't understand.
“I am something else,” he chuckles. “I don’t really need a family. You and your mother are enough. The kids aren't interested anymore.
— Gleb Viktorovich? - I get out of the elevator and immediately stumble upon a nurse meeting me. - Good afternoon.
- That's it, Stas, I have no time already. I'll see you at my mother's on the weekend.
I hang up the phone and glance at the blonde crouching beside me. Nervously biting her lip, she jerks her body around towards the sterile white corridor.
- I'll walk you to the reproductologist's office ...
Slowly exhaling, I follow the nurse, simultaneously looking around in search of my “container”.
Has the surrogate mother arrived yet? I ask, glancing at my wristwatch.
I have a meeting in the office in two hours about a new tender, which I most likely won't make it in time. This fact is a bit annoying.
I'm used to living on a schedule. Everything must be clear and on time. Not only in business, but in life.
Instead of answering, the nurse silently walks over to the doctor's office. He gives me a nervous look over his shoulder, exhales heavily, as if collecting his thoughts, and then opens the door.
- Please pass. The doctor will be here soon. - whispers barely audible, after which he quickly retreats.
I swear under my breath, looking after the departing girl, and sit down on a chair in front of the mahogany desk.
Immediately I hear the click of the door opening behind me.
- Gleb Viktorovich ... - turning around, I meet the excited look of the reproductologist.
“Tamara Petrovna, let’s get straight to the point, please,” I exhale irritably, watching her hide her trembling hands in the pockets of her medical gown. “The fact that something went wrong, I already understood from your stuttering nurse. What's the matter? Surrogate mother jumped off? Got sick? Maybe he wants more money? Not a problem. How much is she asking? I am ready to include an additional amount in our contract.
“No… that’s not the point…” he hesitates.
- Well? I press impatiently.
“You see… the thing is… yesterday, when we were preparing your biomaterial for the IVF procedure, it turned out that a terrible mistake had occurred…
- What mistake? I tense up as I watch the forty-year-old woman's face and neck turn red.
“Your biomaterial... it turned out that a month ago it was mistakenly used for the insemination of one of the patients of our clinic... and...,” she swallows, raising a tense look at me, “the conception was successful...