Saving Grace

Meeting of Crossroads

Fourteen years ago…

Max Goodwin bounced the clipboard feverishly on his leg as the seconds slowly ticked away in the practically deserted waiting area. Two women stood behind the small blue and white counter, buzzing to each other as they organised a mountain of paper work into heavy looking files. White, luminescent light, bounced off of the white walls, highlighting the blue detailing and the exhausting fear that sagged beneath his eyes.

At 21 he had a lot on his plate. Between med school, his dad’s sickness and two jobs he was barely getting enough sleep and his tiredness had cost him a week off each of his desperately needed pay checks.

Which brought him hear. With a filled out form shaking on his lap and a million doubts flooding his mind. The seconds hand kept ticking.

Ticking.

Ticking.

Time he needed, time he’d never get back. Time to make a decision. Necessity spoke louder than pride and he stood with what little courage he could gather. Slowly he stepped towards the filing drones and after a moment’s hesitation, placed the clipboard on the counter. It came down softly but the miniscule sound rang through his ears. It’s sounded final, like his fate being sealed.

One of the woman looked up at him and smiled.

“You ready sugar?” she asked, indicating that his hesitation hadn’t gone unnoticed. Max swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, unable to speak. The lady smiled kindly and slipped the board from the plaster counter top. At the last second, just as it slipped out of his view, Max wanted to yell “Stop!” but he restrained himself.

He needed the money and this was the quickest and most decent way to get it.

He kept his head down as he followed a nurse to a room. At the door she handed him an empty container, her eyes were brown and soft. They held no judgement but Max knew that she knew what would happen behind that closed door and that was enough to bring a shameful tint to his cheeks.

Alone in a cubicle sized bathroom, Max took a seat and tried to calm his racing heart. The place was clean, almost too clean, like it was scrubbed with disinfectant after every use. Beside him a stack of magazines were laid out, each cover featuring women in similar posses yet different stages of undress (if they were dressed at all).

He averted his eyes, the embarrassment heating him up from the inside out. It shouldn’t be that hard. He was a man of science after all and sperm donation, no matter how new a concept it was, would benefit countless couples in fulfilling their dreams of parenthood.

Yet, still… he felt a gnawing in his stomach at the thought of fathering a child he wouldn’t get to call his. At the thought of adding his DNA to a person who would know of him as a number on a piece of paper, if they knew of him at all. He pushed out a shaky breath and opened the container.

The lid came off silently, but the magazine that he reluctantly reached for was less behaved. Each noisy page he flipped hardened him in more ways than one. It brought him closer to a brink he wouldn’t be able to return from but needed to cross none the less.

Pushing his shame a side he did what needed to be done. Sweat beaded his brow at the end of the ordeal and he sat for a moment, catching his breath. He looked at the now filled container, pushing down his disgust and reminding himself over and over again that it was all for the greater good. He’d get some much needed money and some day in the future a lucky couple would get a child with his charisma and dazzling blue eyes.

Deciding to dissociate himself from the event in order to keep his sanity, he coldly screws the lid back on, washes his hands, readjusts his image, insures that everything is as neat as it can possibly be then opens the door and leaves.