He took a drink of his whiskey and looked at me again. ‘Look, Lance… I’m sorry for dumping it on you like that. I should have been more sensitiv....’ I shook my head. ‘No… It’s okay. I mean, I asked for it.’ ‘We went dancing,’ my father said, staring at his glass. I looked at him for a moment. ‘Dancing? You dance?’ He chuckled. ‘Yes. We used to, your mom and I. It was something we did every weekend. But when the work load got too heavy we had to stop.’ I was staring at the floor, afraid to. What mattered wasn't MY sperm, but Omar's sperm; which was then, at that same moment, swimming madly upwards towards the tiny opening to Mara's cervix, and then on to the fertilization of at least one of her eggs! It was the whole reason we'd flown down to Kenya in the first place.Before leaving the bathroom, I carefully wiped up every last trace of my sperm from the sink bowl, and then flushed it away. Once again, I did not feel any sort of regret that I was throwing away MY OWN SPERM. Not at. More

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