“I never knew that.”
“You know he loves Jack Nicklaus.” Christine gestured at Marcus’s treasured piece of sports memorabilia, a framed U.S. Open poster that Jack Nicklaus had autographed, with a color photograph of the golfer with his nickname, Golden Bear.
“Cute. Why do they have the Facebook page?”
“They post videos of their swings and critique each other.”
“Whatever.” Lauren chuckled. “Anyway, as far as your donor, I don’t think it means anything that he’s not on social media. I take it back.”
“Unless he gave an alias to the bank,” Christine said, the thought coming out of nowhere “But I’m sure they verify who somebody says he is when he donates. If a donor is trying to hide something, he can do that.”
“But it’s not like they give them a lie detector test.”
“No, right. Here, look at his bio.” Christine pulled over the Donor 3319 profile.
“I remember looking at this,” Lauren said, frowning as she read, then looked up. “You know, you could call the bank and just tell them what you’re worrying about.”
“Homestead? That’s not how it works. I never dealt with them. Dr. Davidow orders it, I never dealt with them at all.”
“Then I think you should call him.”
“You do?” Christine glanced at the clock on the computer, which read 7:45. “It’s after hours.”
“So leave a message. It doesn’t have to be an emergency. Just say you have a question about your donor.” Lauren reached for her arm and gave it a soft squeeze. “Honey. I know it’s going to bother you, that’s why I’m telling you to call. But if you ask me, they’re not the same person.”
“Okay, I will. Hold on a sec.” Christine picked up her phone, scrolled through CONTACTS, and called Dr. Davidow’s cell. The call rang twice then was picked up.
“Hello?” Dr. Davidow answered warmly. “Christine, hi!”
“Hi, Dr. Davidow.” Christine felt her heart leap at the sound of his voice. He had been so good to her, through everything. “Sorry to bother you.”
“No worries. How are you? How can I help you?”
“Do you mind if I put you on speaker? My friend Lauren is here, and I want her to listen in.”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Great, thanks.” Lauren pressed the button to put the call on speaker. “Can you hear me?”
“Sure,” Dr. Davidow answered, his voice echoing in the quiet room. “So what’s the problem, how are you feeling?”
“I’m fine, but I happened to see a news report on television today about a serial killer being arrested, and when I looked at the video, it looked a lot like our donor.” Christine felt silly, but she wasn’t stopping now. “I know that sounds strange, but I think I recognize him from the two pictures we have, one baby and one adult. Is that even possible?”
Dr. Davidow paused. “You’re saying you identified him from his adult photo?”
“Not positively, but yes. It looks like him.”
“Which bank did you use?” Dr. Davidow’s voice changed slightly, losing its casual tone.
“Homestead.”
“Did your donor join their Open Identity Disclosure program?”
“No, it was an anonymous donation, and he’s not willing to be known either. Can you look him up and check if the name is the same? The name of the man they arrested is Zachary Jeffcoat.”
“We don’t have the name of your donor. If a donation is anonymous, it’s anonymous to Families First, too. The bank gives us only the information that you get.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize that.” Christine glanced at Lauren, who puckered her lower lip in disappointment. “I thought you would have some record.”
“No, that’s completely out of our control. We place the order for you and take receipt of the vials, which are shipped in a cryogenically frozen state. But the donation, retrieval, and transport is handled by the bank. Still, Homestead is extremely reputable. I’m at liberty to say that my own sister used them with two successful pregnancies, using the same donor twice so the children could be biological siblings.”
“Really?” Christine hadn’t known that.
“Yes, I sent her there, as my first choice. Homestead’s one of the most selective banks in the country. They get about twenty-five thousand donor applicants a year and accept fewer than one percent. To give you a reference point, Harvard University gets thirty-five thousand applicants and accepts six percent. In other words, it’s easier to get into Harvard than Homestead.”
“Oh.” Christine listened, still not comforted. She had noticed that Homestead had offices in Cambridge, New Haven, Chicago, Philadelphia, and Palo Alto, and had assumed it wasn’t a coincidence that they were near Ivy League and other prestigious schools.
Lauren leaned over the iPhone speaker. “Dr. Davidow, I’m Lauren. So are you saying that you’re basically the broker for the donation?”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t put it that way.” Dr. Davidow chuckled. “Christine, tell me your donor number.”
“3319.” Christine and Lauren exchanged tense glances.
“Hold on, I’m in front of my computer.” Dr. Davidow fell silent a moment, then continued, “Okay, so I just logged into Homestead and I see that Donor 3319 sperm is available. Are you near a computer?”
“Sure. Hold on a second.” Christine leaned over the keyboard, went on to the Homestead website, and logged in under her username and password. She plugged Donor 3319 into the search engine, and his bio popped onto the screen. Next to Anonymous Donor, it read Sperm Available! Order Now!
“Do you see that it’s still available? Homestead would’ve taken it off the shelves if Donor 3319 were arrested.”
Christine thought a moment. “But that assumes they saw the same report I did, which they might not have. It just happened this afternoon. What do you mean by ‘take it off the shelves’? Does that ever happen, that banks take donations ‘off the shelves’?”
“Yes, but rarely, and generally for physical abnormalities that appear in the offspring of a particular donor, such as a lazy eye. A few years ago, one of my patients had a baby that was born with a clubfoot. I notified the bank, and they took that donation off the shelves.”
“Was it Homestead?”
“No. Christine, I don’t think you have to worry about this, but I’ll call Homestead and let them know your concern.”
“That would be great.”
Lauren leaned over the phone. “Doctor, can she call them herself?”
“No, it’s better coming from me. I have reporting requirements if there’s a defect found in offspring, so it should properly come from our office.” Dr. Davidow paused. “Christine, I’ll get back to you as soon as I speak with them.”
“Thanks, but Dr. Davidow, can I ask you, what screening do they do for donors?”
“They do significant screening, mainly blood tests. I understand that you’re concerned, but I don’t think this is something that should worry you overmuch. As I say, these are the top banks in the country. It’s the same thing when we use egg donors. Our egg donors undergo blood tests for HIV, STDs, screening for Tay-Sachs and the like, and they get interviewed by Michelle to make sure that they’re good candidates psychologically.”
“So Michelle sees them in a session, like she saw Marcus and me?”
“Exactly, and I rely on her evaluation. You know what an ace she is. If she doesn’t give them an A+, they’re not eligible to be egg donors.”
“What’s the kind of thing that eliminates them?”
“Hmm, let me think.” Dr. Davidow paused, clucking his tongue. “If the putative egg donor says something like she really wants to be a mother, Michelle eliminates her. We don’t want someone who wants to be a mother. We want someone who wants to donate an egg so that someone else can become a mother. You follow?”