It was the first time I ever knew her real story. I was stunned.
"What, exactly, are you driving at?" I think I already knew. The long, trusting relationship we'd shared was now teetering on the brink. By going to see Alex Goddard—even if it was partly a research trip to check him out—I had disappointed her terribly. She'd lost respect for me. She thought I was desperate and about to embark on something foolish.
"I'm saying do whatever you want." She got up and lifted her coat off the corner rack. "But get those drugs out of here. I don't want them anywhere near this office. I tried everything legal there was to get you pregnant. If that wasn't good enough for you and now you want to go to some quack, that's your affair. Let me just warn you that combining gonadotropin and HMG Massone at these dosages is like putting your ovaries on steroids; you get massive egg production for a couple of cycles, but the long-term damage could be severe. I strongly advise you against it, but if you insist and then start having complications, I would appreciate not being involved."
Translation: If you start fooling around with Alex Goddard, don't ever come back.
It felt like a dagger in my chest. What was I going to do? One thought: Okay, so these drugs aren't the way, but you couldn't help me get pregnant. All I did was spend twenty thousand dollars on futile procedures. Not to mention the heartbreak.
"You know," I said finally, maybe a little sharply, "I think we ought to be working together, not at cross-purposes."
"You're welcome to think what you like," she bristled. "But I have to tell you I don't appreciate your tone."
I guess I'd really ticked her off, and it hurt to do it. Then, finally, her own rejection of me was sinking in.
"So that's it? You're telling me if I try anything except exactly what you want me to, then just don't ever come back."
"I've said all I intend to." She was resolutely ushering me toward the door, her eyes abruptly blank.