4.1 High Volume Man
At forty-seven, Tom was finally putting his Ph.D. plaque on the wall, leaving behind the anxious adolescent college life that had gone on at least twenty years too long. For the moment, finishing his dissertation was all, and yet there was much to get done with the rest of his life as well. I was counting on the fact that he couldn’t wait to neatly complete one phase of his life before embarking on the next. Having postponed so long, his strategy was to grab what was at hand in an effort to piece life together. He was finalizing passages on mountain passes through the Sierra, while his girlfriend Barbara, who already had a child of her own, booked their social engagements and privately considered whether to marry him. Meanwhile, I had elected him Dad of the Day. Tom wanted a committed relationship and he wanted a child. He just didn’t have time to get them in the right order or even with the same woman.
“OK, here it is,” he said.
Tom left the partially filled syringe on the marble topped table in the kitchen. How tidy. Gold elixir inside and the cap was on. I was worried that the marble table was too cold and could maybe kill all the sperm. Tom poured himself a tall brandy in a milk glass. I had never seen him need a drink before. Then he worried about the measurements on the syringe. His output seemed meager to him now that it was calibrated. In fact, he was a high volume man.