We had one critical task to perform before leaving New York the following morning. Max Freyberg, the cosmetic surgeon and potential biological father of Rosie, who was โbooked solid,โ had agreed to see us for ๏ฌfteen minutes at 6:45 p.m. Rosie had told his secretary she was writing a series of articles for a publication about successful alumni of the university. I was carrying Rosieโs camera and would be identi๏ฌed as a photographer.
Getting the appointment had been di๏ฌcult enough, but it had become apparent that collecting the DNA would be far more challenging in a working environment than in a social or domestic location. I had set my brain the task of solving the problem before we departed for New York and had expected it to have found a solution through background processing, but it had apparently been too occupied with other matters.ย ๎e best I could think of was a spiked ring that would draw blood when we shook hands, but Rosie considered this socially infeasible.
She suggested clipping a hair, either surreptitiously or after identifying it as a stray that would mar the photo. Surely a cosmetic surgeon would care about his appearance. Unfortunately a clipped hair was unlikely to yield an adequate sample: it needed to be plucked to obtain a follicle. Rosie packed a pair of tweezers. For once I hoped I might have to spend ๏ฌfteen minutes in a smoke-๏ฌlled room. A cigarette butt would solve our problem. We would have to be alert to opportunities.
Dr. Freybergโs o๏ฌce was in an older-style building on the Upper West Side. Rosie pushed the buzzer and a security guard appeared and took us up to a waiting area where the walls were totally covered with framed certi๏ฌcates and letters from patients praising Dr. Freybergโs work.
Dr. Freybergโs secretary, a very thin woman (BMI estimate sixteen) of about ๏ฌfty-๏ฌve with disproportionately thick lips, led us into his o๏ฌce. More certi๏ฌcates! Freyberg himself had a major fault: he was completely bald.ย ๎e hair-plucking approach would not be viable. Nor was there any evidence that he was a smoker.
Rosie conducted the interview very impressively. Freyberg described some procedures that seemed to have minimal clinical justi๏ฌcation, and talked about their importance to self-esteem. It was fortunate that I had been allocated the silent role, as I would have been strongly tempted to argue. I was also struggling to focus. My mind was still processing the hand-holding incident.
โIโm sorry,โ said Rosie, โbut could I bother you for something to drink?โ Of course!ย ๎e co๏ฌee-swab solution.
โSure,โ said Freyberg. โTea, co๏ฌee?โ
โCo๏ฌee would be great,โ said Rosie. โJust black. Will you have one yourself?โ
โIโm good. Letโs keep going.โ He pushed a button on his intercom. โRachel. One black co๏ฌee.โ
โYou should have a co๏ฌee,โ I said to him. โNever touch it,โ said Freyberg.
โUnless you have a genetic intolerance of ca๏ฌeine, there are no proven harmful e๏ฌects. On the contraryโโ
โWhat magazine is this for again?โ
๎e question was straightforward and totally predictable. We had agreed on the name of the ๏ฌctitious university publication in advance, and Rosie had already used it in her introduction.
But my brain malfunctioned. Rosie and I spoke simultaneously. Rosie said, โFaces of Change.โ I said, โHands of Change.โ
It was a minor inconsistency that any rational person would have interpreted as a simple, innocent error, which in fact it was. But Freybergโs expression indicated disbelief and he immediately scribbled on a notepad. When Rachel brought the co๏ฌee, he gave her the note. I diagnosed paranoia and started to think about escape plans.
โI need to use the bathroom,โ I said. I planned to phone Freyberg from the bathroom, so Rosie could escape while he took the call.
I walked toward the exit, but Freyberg blocked my path. โUse my private one,โ he said. โI insist.โ
He led me through the back of his o๏ฌce, past Rachel to a door marked Private and left me there.ย ๎ere was no way to exit without returning the way we had come. I took out my phone, called 411โdirectory assistanceโ and they connected me to Rachel. I could hear the phone ring and Rachel answer. I kept my voice low.
โI need to speak to Dr. Freyberg,โ I said. โItโs an emergency.โ I explained that my wife was a patient of Dr. Freyberg and that her lips had exploded. I hung up and texted Rosie:ย Exit now.
๎e bathroom was in need of Evaโs services. I managed to open the window, which had obviously not been used for a long time. We were four ๏ฌoors up, but there seemed to be plenty of handholds on the wall. I eased myself through the window and started climbing down, slowly, focusing on the task, hoping Rosie had escaped successfully. It had been a long time since I had practiced rock climbing, and the descent was not as simple as it ๏ฌrst seemed.ย ๎e wall was slippery from rain earlier in the day and my running shoes were not ideal for the task. At one point I slipped and only just managed to grasp a rough brick. I heard shouts from below.
When I ๏ฌnally reached the ground, I discovered that a small crowd had formed. Rosie was among them. She ๏ฌung her arms around me. โOh my God, Don, you could have killed yourself. It didnโt matter that much.โ
โ๎e risk was minor. It was just important to ignore the height issue.โ
We headed for the subway. Rosie was quite agitated. Freyberg had thought that she was some sort of private investigator, working on behalf of a dissatis๏ฌed patient. He was trying to have the security personnel detain her. Whether his position was legally defensible or not, we would have been in a di๏ฌcult position.
โIโm going to get changed,โ said Rosie. โOur last night in New York City. What do you want to do?โ
My original schedule speci๏ฌed a steakhouse, but now that we were in the pattern of eating together, I would need to select a restaurant suitable for a sustainable-seafood-eating โvegetarian.โ
โWeโll work it out,โ she said. โLots of options.โ
It took me three minutes to change my shirt. I waited downstairs for Rosie for another six. Finally I went up to her room and knocked.ย ๎ere was a long wait.ย ๎en I heard her voice.
โHow long do you think it takes to have a shower?โ
โ๎ree minutes, twenty seconds,โ I said, โunless I wash my hair, in which case it takes an extra minute and twelve seconds.โย ๎e additional time was due primarily to the requirement that the conditioner remain in place for sixty seconds.
โHold on.โ
Rosie opened the door wearing only a towel. Her hair was wet, and she looked extremely attractive. I forgot to keep my eyes directed toward her face.
โHey,โ she said. โNo pendant.โ She was right. I couldnโt use the pendant excuse. But she didnโt give me a lecture on inappropriate behavior. Instead, she smiled and stepped toward me. I wasnโt sure if she was going to take another step, or if I should. In the end, neither of us did. It was an awkward moment, but I suspected we had both contributed to the problem.
โYou should have brought the ring,โ said Rosie.
For a moment, my brain interpreted โringโ as โwedding ringโ and began constructing a completely incorrect scenario.ย ๎en I realized that she was referring to the spiked ring I had proposed as a means of obtaining Freybergโs blood.
โTo come all this way and not get a sample,โ she said. โFortunately, we have one.โ
โYou got a sample? How?โ
โHis bathroom. What a slob. He should get his prostate checked.ย ๎e ๏ฌoorโโ
โStop,โ said Rosie. โToo much information. But nice work.โ
โVery poor hygiene,โ I told her. โFor a surgeon. A pseudosurgeon. Incredible waste of surgical skillโinserting synthetic materials purely to alter appearance.โ
โWait till youโre ๏ฌfty-๏ฌve and your partnerโs forty-๏ฌve, and see if you say the same thing.โ
โYouโre supposed to be a feminist,โ I said, though I was beginning to doubt it.
โIt doesnโt mean I want to be unattractive.โ
โYour appearance should be irrelevant to your partnerโs assessment of you.โ
โLife is full of should-beโs,โ said Rosie. โYouโre the geneticist. Everyone notices how people look. Even you.โ
โTrue. But I donโt allow it to a๏ฌect my evaluation of them.โ
I was on dangerous territory: the issue of Rosieโs attractiveness had gotten me into serious trouble on the night of the faculty ball.ย ๎e statement was consistent with my beliefs about judging people and with how I would wish to be judged myself. But I had never had to apply these beliefs to someone standing opposite me in a hotel bedroom wearing only a towel. It dawned on me that I had not told the full truth.
โIgnoring the testosterone factor,โ I added.
โIs there a compliment buried in there somewhere?โ
๎e conversation was getting complicated. I tried to clarify my position. โIt would be unreasonable to give you credit for being incredibly beautiful.โ What I did next was undoubtedly a result of my thoughts being scrambled by a sequence of extraordinary and traumatic incidents in the preceding few hours: the hand holding, the escape from Freybergโs o๏ฌce, and the extreme impact of the worldโs most beautiful woman standing
naked under a towel in front of me.
Gene should also take some blame for suggesting that earlobe size was a predictor of sexual attraction. Since I had never been so sexually attracted to a woman before, I was suddenly compelled to examine her ears. In a moment that was, in retrospect, similar to the critical incident in Georges Duhamelโsย Confession de minuit, I reached out and brushed her hair aside. But in this case, amazingly, the response was di๏ฌerent from that documented in the novel we had studied in French class. Rosie put her arms around me and kissed me.
I think it is likely that my brain is wired in a nonstandard con๏ฌguration, but my ancestors would not have succeeded in breeding without understanding and responding to basic sexual signals.ย ๎at aptitude was hardwired in. I kissed Rosie back. She responded.
We pulled apart for a moment. It was obvious that dinner would be delayed. Rosie studied me and said, โYou know, if you changed your glasses and your haircut, you could be Gregory Peck inย To Kill a Mockingbird.โ
โIs that good?โ I assumed, given the circumstances, that it was, but wanted to hear her con๏ฌrm it.
โHe was only the sexiest man that ever lived.โ
We looked at each other some more, and I moved to kiss her again. She stopped me.
โDon, this is New York. Itโs like a vacation. I donโt want you to assume it means anything more.โ
โWhat happens in New York stays in New York, right?โ It was a line Gene had taught me for conference use. I had never needed to employ it before. It felt a little odd, but appropriate for the circumstances. It was obviously important that we both agreed there was no emotional continuation. Although I did not have a wife at home like Gene, I had a concept of a wife that was very di๏ฌerent from Rosie, who would presumably step out on the balcony for a cigarette after sex. Oddly, the prospect didnโt repel me as much as it should have.
โI have to get something from my room,โ I said. โGood thinking. Donโt take too long.โ
My room was only eleven ๏ฌoors above Rosieโs, so I walked up the stairs. Back in my room, I showered, then thumbed through the book Gene had given me. He had been right after all. Incredible.
I descended the stairs to Rosieโs room. Forty-three minutes had passed. I knocked on the door, and Rosie answered, now wearing a sleeping costume that was, in fact, more revealing than the towel. She was holding two glasses of champagne.
โSorry, itโs gone a bit ๏ฌat.โ
I looked around the room.ย ๎e bed cover was turned down, the curtains were closed, and there was just one bedside lamp on. I gave her Geneโs book.
โSince this is our ๏ฌrstโand probably onlyโtime, and you are doubtless more experienced, I recommend that you select the position.โ
Rosie thumbed through the book, then started again. She stopped at the ๏ฌrst page, where Gene had written his symbol.
โGene gave you this?โ
โIt was a present for the trip.โ
I tried to read Rosieโs expression and guessed anger, but that disappeared and she said, in a nonangry tone, โDon, Iโm sorry, I canโt do this. Iโm really sorry.โ
โDid I say something wrong?โ โNo, itโs me. Iโm really sorry.โ
โYou changed your mind while I was gone?โ
โYeah,โ said Rosie. โ๎atโs what happened. Iโm sorry.โ
โAre you sure I didnโt do something wrong?โ Rosie was my friend, and the risk to our friendship was now at the forefront of my mind.ย ๎e sex issue had evaporated.
โNo, no, itโs me,โ she said. โYou were incredibly considerate.โ
It was a compliment I was unaccustomed to receiving. A very satisfying compliment.ย ๎e night had not been a total disaster.
โข โข โข
I could not sleep. I had not eaten and it was only 8:55 p.m. Claudia and Gene would be at work now, back in Melbourne, and I did not feel like talking to either of them. I considered it inadvisable to contact Rosie again, so I rang my remaining friend. Dave had eaten already, but we walked to a pizza restaurant and he ate a second dinner.ย ๎en we went to a bar and watched baseball and talked about women. I do not recall much of what either of us said, but I suspect that little of it would have been useful in making rational plans for the future.
